Free The Perfect Bride by Eileen Putman Page B

match, a Season is also
enjoyable in itself."
    "Did
you have a Season, Miss Fitzhugh?"
    The
question took her aback. "Yes."
    "But
you achieved no `suitable match'?" He eyed her thoughtfully.
    Amanda
managed a smile. "I think it is safe to conclude that I did not
take."
    "There
was no one for whom you formed an attachment?"
    "I
do not regret my single state, my lord," Amanda said. She was not about to
discuss her disastrous “attachment” to Julian LeFevre.
    He
studied her. "It begins to sound as though you, too, have little use for
the rituals of society, Miss Fitzhugh."
    "My
feelings are not at issue here, my lord. I believe we were speaking of
Felicity."
    "Forgive
me, Miss Fitzhugh. It is just that I have much to do here at the castle, and
the prospect of absenting myself for weeks is unwelcome,” he said. “Workmen are
scheduled to report soon. Already, a young scholar has begun cataloguing the
weapons and the contents of my library. Servants must be hired, tenants dealt
with. There are other business matters to manage. Dancing attendance on a woman
who has already agreed to have me seems an absurd waste of time."
    "Then
perhaps Felicity will refuse you, my lord," Amanda replied, suddenly feeling
quite out of sorts. "Perhaps you will truly have to work to win your
bride. I daresay it is not as difficult as winning a war."
    Grabbing
her crutches, she rose unsteadily. "You will excuse me, sir. I feel the
need for some air."
    But
the crutches, and perhaps the sherry, spoiled her grand exit. The floor was not
quite where she expected it. As she swayed precariously, Amanda felt a strong
pair of hands grasp her waist from behind to steady her. Lord Sommersby quickly
transferred his grip to her elbows, but the damage was done.
    Amanda’s
stomach felt as if a thousand butterflies had taken wing. To her consternation,
she had to fight an urge to lean into that large, masculine frame.
    "You
must not move so quickly," he admonished. "You will injure yourself
again."
    But
she scarcely heard his warning in her dismay over those butterflies. Had the
experience with Julian left her so thoroughly beyond redemption that she could
feel weak with desire for a man soon to be betrothed to Felicity?
    "Thank
you for the reminder, my lord," Amanda forced herself to say. "I will
just be on my way to the parlor, where I was bound when I, er, tumbled into
you."
    "Allow
me to assist you."
    Alarmed
to see that he was evidently prepared to carry her once more, Amanda shook her
head vigorously. "No, thank you. I can manage for myself." When he
seemed about to resist, she hurriedly added, "I promise to summon someone when
I need to take the stairs."
    That
seemed to satisfy him and, with a sigh of relief, Amanda hobbled out of Lord
Sommersby's study. Long afterward, however, she felt the touch of his hands.
    ***
    His
proposal to Felicity Biddle went smoothly. Although Simon had never before
offered a woman marriage, it had not proved difficult. One had only to state
one's admiration for the young lady, make a straightforward declaration of
intentions, and wait for an answer. Gracious and blushing, Miss Biddle
consented immediately. It all went precisely according to plan. His mission had
been successful. While tedious weeks in town lay ahead, Simon breathed a sigh
of relief that the future was now settled.
    Miss
Fitzhugh had made him see the importance of the Season to Miss Biddle, and
Simon was prepared to endure London as he had endured any number of unpleasant
situations during the war — as minor inconveniences on the way to achieving the
larger goal. Miss Biddle would make him a fine wife. Their sons would have his
discipline and strength, their daughters her pretty violet eyes. Generations of
Thorntons would thank him for securing their future and their heritage.
    That
knowledge, and the fact that his goal had been achieved in such a civilized
fashion, brought a smile to Simon's face as he stood at the dinner table and
offered a toast to his