Free The Bride Wore Pearls by Liz Carlyle

comfortable, and—if I do say so myself—reasonably lovely. Though my blood isn’t quite what some might wish, I have no doubt that I can find myself a husband somewhere —if and when I wish one.”
    Bessett had lost the rest of his color. “Why, without a dou—”
    “ If and when, ” she repeated, cutting him off. “But it occurs to me now, sir, that only a coward approaches a widow’s brother behind her back. Had you any real affection for me, you would have sought me out, declared your intent, and kissed me passionately. Perhaps even invited me to your bed so that you might, shall we say, demonstrate precisely what you had to offer?”
    Bessett had gone rigid as a beanpole. “Really, Anisha— !”
    “Good Lord,” Lazonby murmured.
    “But you did none of that, did you?” Anisha pressed on. “You let your friendship with my brother override any passion you might have felt for me. And that, sir, is no sort of passion at all.”
    “She’s right,” said Lazonby aside. “It was badly done.”
    “And you!” Anisha whirled on him, eyes rekindling with fury. “You are a bigger coward, even, than Bessett. Bessett is merely passionless—at least where I am concerned. But you, sir—you are gutless.”
    “The devil!” Lazonby felt oddly wounded. “I—why, I would walk over hot coals for you, Nish! You know I would.”
    “That, sir, is not where I wished you to walk.” Her arms were crossed now, one toe tapping impatiently upon the carpet. “Do you know, Rance, I used to fantasize about inviting you to my bed. I yearned for it, in fact, fool that I was—even knowing as I do what a single-minded scoundrel you are. But I am now exceedingly glad I never gave in to that idiotic inclination. I daresay you would do nothing but disappoint—just as you have done today.”
    Rance could only stare at her, gape-mouthed.
    Bessett, however, cleared his throat and stepped boldly forward. “You are right, Anisha,” he said quietly. “I esteem you greatly— adore you, actually. And you are quite likely the loveliest woman I’ve ever known. But I’ve never felt much more than a passing interest in you—or, quite honestly—in any other woman.”
    “ Flatterer, ” said Lazonby snidely.
    Anisha ignored the aside. “And now—?” she asked, waving one hand expansively.
    “And now . . . it’s different,” said Bessett, looking perplexed. “I met the woman for me, and I did not hesitate an instant. I did not ask anyone’s permission. Not even hers. Not even, sadly, her father’s—a circumstance I now mean to rectify, with your blessing.”
    Anisha’s toe stopped tapping. “Good, Geoffrey,” she said softly. “That’s very, very good. And may she lead you a merry dance. She will, I daresay. You look utterly besotted.”
    “Well.” Bessett, always a little high in the instep, cleared his throat and snatched up his hat. “Well, I daresay she will. But first, ma’am, with your permission—?”
    “Oh, for pity’s sake, go!” Irritation sketched over Anisha’s face. “You need beg no permission from me, Bessett. I am exceedingly glad to be shed of you. And as I said, you never asked me to court you, and I certainly never meant to ask you. So yes, go make your proposal to this mysterious lady—this Miss de Rohan. I hope she says yes—but not, I trust, until she has made you get down on one knee to blubber and beg like a fool.”
    With that, Geoff declared his undying admiration for Anisha, seized her hand to kiss it, then hastened off down the stairs.
    Lazonby watched him go from one corner of his eye. “Good Lord,” he said again when the front door thumped shut in the hall below. “That was a bit of a shock.”
    “To you, perhaps,” she retorted.
    Trying to bestir his charm, Lazonby flashed his most beguiling smile. “Well,” he said softly. “Where does that leave us, old thing?”
    “Well, old thing, ” Anisha echoed, teeth gritting a little, “I daresay it leaves us just where