The Bride Of Spring. Catherine Archer

was not encouraging. He had certainly seen through the lie she had told him about hiding from the unwanted attentions of a would-be suitor. Yet he had believed her when she’d spoken of not wanting to bring any harm to the crown. How very astute he seemed.

      She could not help smiling with secret approval as she looked up…and saw Denley Trent standing at the end of the room. Her pleasure turned to a groan of despondency. Denley was the last man she expected or wished to see.

      Her pained gaze trailed over him. He was dressed in what was obviously a new scarlet velvet houppelande of the type preferred by the more daring of the courtiers. ’Twas short to the point of indecency, and the long dagged sleeves seemed too feminine against his large hands. The lumbering Denley was not made for such fashion.

      His very presence was like a weight upon her shoulders. What manner of man was he to follow her here to court? Indeed, where would he stop in his persistence to see both herself and William beneath his thumb?

      Raine glanced up at Benedict Ainsworth. How different he was from Denley. Having a man such as him at her side would surely make her cousin reconsider his dogged determination to have her.

      But Ainsworth was now talking with the nobleman to his right. Though she had gone to great trouble to make herself appealing, he seemed interested in nothing save her intentions toward King Edward. Now that she had made herself clearer to him on that score he appeared to have lost interest in her completely. And with Cousin Denley having arrived, what was she to do?

      Her desperate glance raked the crowded chamber as if seeking some answer to the problem of Denley Trent. In all the weeks she had been at court, Raine had not found one man, other than Benedict Ainsworth, who even appeared to come close to what she was hoping for.

      Her gaze went back to Denley. He was looking about as if searching for someone, and even as a frown marred her brow, his gaze came to rest upon her with obvious relief.

      Raine sighed with frustration and despair as he then stalked toward her like a bull in a cow pen, resolution written upon his heavy features. She bit down on her lip as she moved to rise. She did not wish to face Denley here, in the midst of this company. There was no telling what he might say about her having left Abbernathy without informing him. He had taken to visiting her almost daily after her father’s death and had surely been shocked to arrive there and find her gone. Especially as she had instructed that no one was to tell him whence she had gone.

      Her efforts to leave the hall before he could reach her were thwarted. The benches were pressed too closely about the tables, and with her heavy skirts slowing her efforts, she could not get to her feet quickly enough. Denley reached her side before she was able to extract one leg.

      He spoke in a voice loud enough to draw the attention of those sitting near her, including, she noted out of the corner of her eye, Benedict Ainsworth. “Raine, I have been looking for you.”

      She glared up at him. “Denley, what a surprise.”

      The man scowled. “It should not be so great a surprise. Any man would be concerned about his future bride. You disappeared from Abbernathy without warning.”

      Utter and complete frustration colored her tone as she leaned back, putting her hands to her hips. “I am not going to marry you. That is my final word on the subject.”

      He reached down to grasp her arm in a tight grip. “Do not be ridiculous. Of course you will marry me. Has some court dandy been filling your head with nonsense? I will persuade him of his error soon enough.”

      Raine leaned farther away from him, but there was only so far she could move in the circumstances. She was infinitely aware of the rock solid breadth of Benedict Ainsworth’s shoulder beside her. Denley pulled her toward him.

      She knew they were creating quite a display, and kept her gaze trained on that of her nemesis to keep from having to look at anyone else. She must extricate herself from this situation as quickly as possible. This would in no way help her in her efforts to attract the baron.

      It was with utter mortification, and surprisingly, an undeniable trace of happiness, that she heard the deep and unmistakable voice of the man she so wished to make a favorable impression upon. “Your pardon, sirrah, this lady does not appear to welcome your attentions.”

      Her gaze fixed on his darkly handsome face. He was watching her cousin with disdain.

      Denley frowned at Benedict as he said, “I do not see that this is any business of yours, my lord, and would warn you to mind your own affairs.”

      Benedict turned to Raine. “Are you bound to this man?”

      It was a long moment before she could reply, for the gentle regard in those dark blue eyes seemed to make her heart beat just a bit faster than was usual. At last she replied, “Nay, he is but my cousin. The notion that we are to be wed is purely his own.”

      Benedict reached out and put his own hand over Denley’s on her arm. Even as embarrassed and exasperated as she felt, Raine could not help noting that as large as Denley’s hand was, Benedict’s was larger, and more sun bronzed. His fingers were longer and more supple and obviously stronger as they gripped her cousin’s.

      Benedict spoke with quiet but unmistakable command. “You will unhand this lady, now. This is not the time nor the place to discuss such matters and you should certainly take them up with her guardian rather than humiliating her in company as you have.”

      Denley seemed, for the first time, to realize that they were being closely observed by those around them. He had the grace to flush and let go of Raine’s arm, though the fact that he did so under duress was clear in his angry expression as he stepped back. He sputtered, “As her only living relation, I am her guardian.”

      Raine shook her head. “He is not. My father died some months gone by, but did not name Denley as guardian. As I said, he is my cousin, nothing more.”

      Denley grimaced at this but seemed to have nothing more to say, since Benedict obviously would not heed him in the face of Raine’s objection. Yet Raine cared nothing for what Denley thought. She had no more interest in him for the moment.

      She looked at Benedict, who was watching her closely. His concerned expression brought about a strange fluttering in her chest. It had been many years since anyone had shown such an interest in looking after her. Raine was accustomed to being protector and caretaker to Will, Aida and all the others who resided on the estate.

      The sense of being cared for, if only on the most superficial level, was unexpectedly enervating. She felt sharp tears sting her eyes, but she refused to shed them.

      She did not need anyone to care for her, but for Will and his inheritance. She dragged her gaze from Benedict, taking in those around them with a wave of mortification as she noted their interest and speculation.

      She told herself it must surely be her shame that Denley had brought this public display upon her that made her react with such weakness. Raine knew she could face no more in this moment without crumbling. Again she moved to extricate herself from the table. When Denley stepped forward to help her, Benedict Ainsworth forestalled him by standing.

      Raine could do no more than cast Benedict a brief and grateful glance as she at long last freed herself and rose. She was aware of the eyes upon her back, knew that people would be thinking all manner of things. She had heard them speak of the goings-on of others often enough. But she did not run as she so desperately desired to do. She squared her shoulders and forced herself to walk away with her head high.

      After a long and sleepless night, Raine knew that she had to act without delay. Denley had traced her all the way to court, had made a terrible scene before everyone within earshot, with no thought to her own feelings or those of others.

      Benedict Ainsworth had certainly come to her aid without hesitation, but he had clearly failed to note her feeble efforts to attract him.

      Perhaps, she realized with a heavy sigh, he simply did not find her appealing. The thought was not an encouraging one, for how else was she to get him to wed her? She did not require him to care deeply