The Bride Wore Scandal. Helen Dickson

the sound of his deep, soft and mellifluous voice, Christina was transported and, for a moment, completely speechless. Try as she might, she could find no flaw in those wide shoulders, lean waist and long limbs. The impeccably tailored clothes were to be admired as much as the man who wore them. Yet on someone of less impressive stature, the froth of lace at throat and wrists, the waistcoat of ivory hue that matched his breeches beneath a midnight-blue coat might have lost much of their flair.

      Her confidence was slowly returning. Something in his look challenged her spirit and brought her strength back in a surge of excitement. Far from being overawed by this man’s presence and by the danger that lay in wait for her each moment, Christina was aware of release and a relaxation of tension in finding herself at last face to face with him. But she must not forget herself. She must be politeness personified with this particular gentleman.

      Finding her voice, she said, ‘I am Christina Atherton and I do remember you. How could I not? Our encounter was—momentous to say the least. How do you do?’

      His dark brows lifted a fraction and he smiled suddenly, a slow, startlingly glamorous white smile. The electric touch of his strong, bare fingers grasped hers warmly and for just a moment too long before raising them to his lips and releasing them.

      ‘Very well, Miss Atherton. It is a relief to know your name—although I did suspect who you were when I saw you receiving your guests. I am Lord Rockley—Simon Rockley.’

      ‘Yes, I thought you might be,’ she replied, ‘since you’re the only guest here I am not acquainted with—or should I say to whom I have not been properly introduced.’

      ‘I hope you don’t mind and that I will be forgiven if I have put you to any inconvenience.’

      Christina felt as if she were being manoeuvred into a series of uncomfortable corners. She would have to be careful what she said to him. ‘No, of course not. You are very welcome.’

      ‘I was watching you a few minutes ago. I saw your expression when you recognised me as being the man you met in the woods yesterday.’ Humour glinted in his eyes. ‘I’m happy to know you did not forget me.’

      Despite his open attitude, he was a guest in her home, and Christina was a little mortified that she’d let her feelings about him show so openly. Relying on the old adage that the best defence is a good offence, and determined to keep tight rein on controlling her attraction to this beautiful man, she said very firmly and politely, ‘I never forget a face, Lord Rockley.’

      ‘Neither do I—and not when a face is as lovely as yours. When I saw you, I was completely captivated by you.’

      ‘Really?’ she quipped. ‘I don’t see why. You are a guest in my home, Lord Rockley. If I have any kind of feelings about any guest, including you, you would never know it because I would never let them show.’

      ‘That’s very reassuring,’ he said softly. ‘But I wonder how long you could keep up the pretence.’

      ‘As to that, we will never know.’ In an attempt to still her rioting nerves, she smiled brightly. ‘You are most welcome at Oakbridge, Lord Rockley. We are honoured to have you as our guest. I hope you will be comfortable. You must forgive me if I seem surprised.’

      ‘I must?’ His face was no longer grave, but open and almost beguiling.

      ‘When my brother told me you were to stay the night with us, I must confess to thinking you would be quite different.’

      ‘But why should you have expected me to be anything but what I am?’

      ‘William told me you were a military man, so I imagined you to be much older.’

      His eyes sparked with amusement. ‘I assure you I am quite old—thirty-one, to be exact—which is a great age to a young woman of such tender years and must make me a veritable antique.’

      His words brought a reluctant smile to Christina’s lips. ‘No, indeed. My father always used to say that one is as old as one feels. You certainly don’t look like an antique—and I’m sure you don’t feel one.’ She glanced at him obliquely. ‘Your reputation precedes you, sir.’

      He arched a quizzical brow. ‘You have heard of me?’

      ‘Who has not? You are the terrifying spectre that people use to terrify their offspring from disobeying their elders,’ she said, a teasing gleam in her eyes.

      ‘The bogey man?’

      She laughed lightly. ‘Something like that—more myth than man.’

      His eyes narrowed on hers. ‘Let me assure you, Miss Atherton, that I am all man.’

      A crimson flush coloured her cheeks. ‘I will take your word for that, Lord Rockley. My brother and I are honoured that you chose to stay at Oakbridge, when there are so many other noble houses in the district at your disposal.’

      ‘It really doesn’t matter where I stay. From what I’ve seen, Oakbridge is a splendid house.’

      ‘I think so, and I know my brother does. I took over the running of it for my father when my mother died four years ago. Sadly, my father died a few short months after her. I am under no illusion that when William marries I shall have to move over for his wife.’

      ‘You’ll probably be married yourself by then.’

      ‘I doubt it since William is to marry very soon.’

      ‘I have noted that Oakbridge is somewhat isolated—though perfectly situated.’

      Christina met his eyes. They were intent on her face and missed nothing. The warning there seemed to pierce her like a dagger’s thrust. He seemed to be consciously searching for an answer in her face, as if she held the key to what he wanted to know. She knew there was an unusual colour in her cheeks—she couldn’t help it, and she hoped she did not show how agitated she was. She tried to calm herself. Was she being unduly sensitive, or did his words hold a double meaning? Did he know? At that moment Lord Rockley’s mere presence reminded her of the dangers in which they all lay.

      ‘I—I think I should find my brother and ask him to introduce you to our guests. It’s most unseemly of him not to have done so.’

      ‘Do not put yourself out, Miss Atherton. I have already spoken to your brother and he has introduced me to several guests.’

      ‘Then you will have seen for yourself that they are all amenable and friendly enough.’ Lord Rockley’s face was inscrutable, but something flickered in those piercing, silver-grey eyes that seemed never to rest. Christina thought that even when his back was turned, one dared not slacken one’s effort, for, like the panther, he could turn and pounce in the blink of an eye.

      ‘Whatever people appear to be in public, their private lives are often very different.’

      ‘Yes—I—I suppose that is true.’

      ‘An event such as this is the best way for me to become acquainted with those who live in the neighbourhood. I am grateful for the opportunity.’

      ‘I suppose it is.’ Knowing of Lord Rockley’s reasons for wanting to familiarise himself with the local folk and reluctant to speak of it, Christina cast a sweeping glance over the chattering, happy throng. ‘You will see it is not a formal party and that comfort and pleasure are our guiding principles. You have taken a glass of wine, I hope, and eaten from the buffet table. I can recommend the strawberries—they are quite delicious, freshly picked from our own gardens this afternoon …’ She flushed, unable to still her tongue in her nervousness, but she could not seem to help it.

      This was not lost on Simon and he smiled. ‘I have had some wine, but I have not yet eaten. Perhaps later—and when I do I shall be sure to have a dish of strawberries.’

      ‘H-Have you come alone, Lord Rockley?’ she asked hesitantly, sensing from the way he was looking at her that he was aware of the awkwardness in her manner and amused by it.

      ‘No.