Free The Ideal Bride by Stephanie Laurens Page A

sounded as if she, too, were eating. “When things like this happen, the correct way to handle it is to create no further fuss. It was unforeseen, nothing could be done to avoid it, it happened, and now it’s over. One deals with it in the most straightforward manner and gives oneself no airs, nor must you appear to be making yourself interesting because of your illness.”
     
      Silence, punctuated by the clink of cutlery.
     
      “So…” Elizabeth ’s voice seemed to have gained some strength; it sounded almost normal. “I should simply smile and thank people, and…”
     
      “And put it behind you. Yes, that’s right.”
     
      “Oh.”
     
      Another pause; this time, Caro broke it. “You know, being subject to seasickness is not a great recommendation for a diplomat’s wife.”
     
      Her tone was musing, considering.
     
      Michael raised his brows. Recalled his earlier suspicion that Caro knew of his interest in   Elizabeth .
     
      “Well, we’ll just have to make sure Edward fixes his sights somewhere other than the Foreign Office.”
     
      Michael blinked. Edward ?
     
      “Perhaps the Home Office. Or maybe under the Chancellor.”
     
      He heard Caro shift.
     
      “We really must give the point some serious thought.”
     
      Her voice faded as she moved further from the portholes; she and Elizabeth continued to discuss this and that, but he heard nothing more about diplomats’ wives and the requirements and criteria for same.
     
      Straightening, he strolled to the starboard corner, propped a hip ‘
     
      against the side, fixed his gaze on the shore, and tried to fathom just what was going on. He’d thought Caro knew of his tack regarding Elizabeth and had been aiding him. Yet clearly she recognized and actively supported a connection between   Elizabeth   and Campbell.
     
      He stopped his thoughts—focused on what he felt about Elizabeth being Campbell’s wife instead of his. All he could summon was a mild observation that   Elizabeth   and Edward might indeed suit.
     
      Grimacing, he folded his arms and leaned one shoulder against a nearby rope. That, assuredly, was not what he would feel had he been seriously set on winning Elizabeth to wife, if he’d felt convinced she was the wife he needed. He might not be a Cynster, yet if he’d been truly engaged by the desire to secure Elizabeth as his wife, his reaction would be considerably more profound.
     
      As things stood, he felt far more exercised about Ferdinand’s pursuit of Caro than about Campbell’s apparent success with her niece. That, however, wasn’t what was pricking him.
     
      Looking back on the last three days, ever since he’d returned home and set out to evaluate   Elizabeth —or more specifically from the moment Caro had so dramatically reentered his life—matters had progressed smoothly with no real effort from him; the situations and opportunities he’d needed and wanted had simply appeared.
     
      Looking back… he felt increasingly certain Caro had been playing fairy godmother, waving her wand and managing the scene, yet her touch was so light, so masterly, it was impossible to be absolutely sure. He had no doubt she was an accomplished player of diplomatic and political games.
     
      The question was: What sort of game had she been playing with him?
     
      He might not be a Cynster, but he was an Anstruther-Wetherby. Being manipulated had never sat well with him.
     
      Once the anchor was hauled in and the yacht was once more slowly tacking up the western shore, at Elizabeth ’s insistence Caro left her resting and climbed the narrow companionway back up to the main deck.
     
      Stepping into the open air, she lifted her head and filled her lungs; lips curving, lids at half-mast against the sinking sun, she turned—and walked into a hard male body.
     
      One she’d connected with before; even as the certainty over who it was registered, she fleetingly wondered