No Man's Bride Read Online Free Page B

so, Quint caught the resemblance. Her eyes were not the brilliant blue of her sister’s, but they were the same shape, and she looked at him with the same mixture of skepticism and curiosity.
    “Forgive me,” Quint said and bowed. “You must be Miss Elizabeth Fullbright’s sister.” Damn it, but he could not remember her name. Claudia? Cordelia—no, that was the mother. Calista?
    “And you must be Lord Valentine,” the girl said. Then, to his amazement, she looked him over. She studied him from head to toe as though he were a piece of meat at the butcher’s shop or a bolt of muslin she wanted for a dress or—he flexed his hands as her gaze traveled back up again, pausing for a moment on his groin—as though he were a prostitute in a line of them, and she was choosing her partner for the evening.
    The gall of the woman, and he had heard she was shy and insular. How wrong that report had been!
    “Congratulations on your impending nuptials,” she said when her eyes were back on his face. “Though I feel I should offer you my sympathies instead.”
    The bushes behind them rattled savagely. “Perhaps we should retire farther away.” She indicated the far corner of the terrace. Quint would rather have stayed and observed what other suspicious movements the bushes made, but she was already moving.
    When they reached the appointed spot, she perched on the balustrade. Behind her were the dark lawn and the misty lights of the city. The breeze whipped up, trailing loose strands of her hair over her shoulders. He caught the faint scent of peaches on the wind, and then it was gone.
    “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Valentine.” She stuck her hand out, and he shook it almost automatically. “Once again, my condolences on your engagement. Good night.”
    Quint recognized the dismissal, but he was not ready to go. Not by far.
    “Madam,” he said, “you offer condolences. I believe the accepted practice is to offer felicitations.”
    He watched her straighten her shoulders and had the distinct feeling she was bolstering her resolve as well. Good God. Was it that much of a burden to wish her future brother-in-law a happy marriage?
    She looked up at him. “I do not wish to overstep my bounds—”
    “Oh, no. You must speak now.” He waved her onward. “I insist.”
    “Very well. How well do you know Elizabeth,sir? What I mean to say is, have you known her long?”
    “A month, perhaps a bit less,” he answered. “I met her at the start of the Season.”
    “I see. And have you had an opportunity to talk much with my sister?”
    Quint drew his cheroot and watched her through the fragrant smoke. How did one define much ? He had spoken with Elizabeth enough to know she would make an acceptable wife. That did not require extensive conversation, though. He would have plenty of time to know all her thoughts and opinions over the years of their marriage.
    Quint doubted the young upstart before him would appreciate the efficiency of his selection process. He was willing to wager she was the romantic sort. Finally, he said, “You are certainly full of questions tonight. And I had heard you could be timid.”
    She blushed at that. He saw the color in her cheeks even in the dim light. The woman was a mélange of contradictions—bold one moment, bashful the next.
    “I admit, I am not usually so forward, sir, but I cannot help but wonder how well you know my sister. Have you spoken with her much as opposed to”—she waved her hand as though searching for the words—“just looking at her?”
    Quint was speechless for a moment, unable to predict the direction of her questions. It was a bitunusual for an orator as great as he to find it difficult to gauge his opponent’s intent, but he had no idea at what Elizabeth’s sister—Camelia?—was hinting.
    Quint stubbed out his cheroot and decided a direct approach might be best. “What are you suggesting, Miss Fullbright? If you are implying there has been anything