Free BRIGHTON BEAUTY by Marilyn Clay Page A

Chelsea feared he might strike her. After all, he had just admitted that in Honduras people were not nearly so civilized as they were in England.
    Instead, he merely planted himself a few inches from her, his narrowed gaze challenging her defiant one. "We remove to Honduras within a fortnight, Alayna. You will prepare yourself accordingly." With that, he stalked toward the door.
    But, nearing it, he paused. "By the by," he turned toward her again, the tone of his voice having altered the veriest mite, "if you did not mean to reside with me as properly wedded couples do, how exactly did you propose to live?"
    Chelsea took a few steps toward him, giving herself a moment in order to fabricate a reply. "I shall content myself as I have in the past, attending fancy dress balls, frequenting the opera, and . . . and such." Having not spent her days in like manner, she wasn't entirely sure how fashionable ladies did go on. "There is always the Season, you know, and in winter, there are . . . houseparties and hunting weekends."
    "I was not referring to your social outings, Alayna. What I meant was . . . " A dark brow lifted.
    Chelsea's eyes widened and she felt the already high colour in her cheeks deepen. She knew exactly what he meant now, and she also knew that Alayna would not hesitate to speak her mind on that subject, as well. She had not hesitated when Chelsea put the same question to her the afternoon they sat discussing Alayna's forthcoming marriage in the Marchmont drawing room.
    Lord Rathbone folded his arms across his chest. "I am waiting, Alayna."
    "Well, i-if you must know, I . . . intend to live 'freely'. As other married women . . . and most gentlemen do," she added, proud that she had thought of it. It was precisely the sort of thing Alayna would say. "Furthermore, though I cannot see where it is any concern of yours, I mean to . . . to fall in and out of love with whomever I please." Aware of her own heart pounding wildly in her breast, she wondered if perhaps she hadn't taken it a bit too far with that last part. But no matter how mortified she felt in speaking so plainly to a gentleman, as long as she was pretending to be Alayna, it was likely she could never go too far.
    She watched Lord Rathbone's nostrils flare with suppressed rage, then he said, "Are you quite finished, Alayna?"
    Chelsea nodded. "Have I not . . . said enough?"
    He snorted. "You have said quite enough."
    Chelsea steeled herself for whatever might be coming in the way of chastisement. It was plain to see that Lord Rathbone was not the sort of man to let even the contemplation of such improper conduct pass without strong recriminations. In truth, she knew her words had mocked him, had mocked all that he stood for. He had made it abundantly clear that he expected Alayna to make a home with him in Honduras. But, Chelsea knew very well that Alayna would never agree to the sort of life he proposed for her. Never!
    Lord Rathbone had been watching her closely. At length, he said, "I will not accept your decision in the matter, Alayna."
    In a perfect imitation of the young lady she was pretending to be, Chelsea cocked her head to one side. "You have no choice but to accept my decision, sir." For strength, she gripped the edge of a nearby chair, then to remove herself from his piercing gaze, she flounced to a mullioned window and peered out. With her back to him, she said, "Our engagement has already been announced in the London papers and the first reading of the banns was Sunday last. You are far too honourable a man to cry off now, Rutherford Campbell."
    The silence hanging between them grew so heavy that Chelsea, at last, turned around. Lord Rathbone was staring hard at her, his eyes dark with anger.
    Chelsea watched his jaws grind together and thought again that Lord Rathbone was a very handsome man.
    Finally, he said, "There is something you are not telling me, Alayna."
    Stunned by his astuteness, Chelsea felt her knees go weak beneath her skirt, but