The Bride Thief

Heat rose in Sammie's cheeks, and she fought the urge to clap her hand over Hubert's mouth. While she appreciated his enthusiasm and kind words, she had no desire to see the inevitable expression on Lord Wesley's face-the one showing his dismay, horror, disgust, boredom, disdain, or any combination thereof regarding her work. She turned to him, determined to adroitly change the subject, and was surprised to see him regarding her with unmistakable curiosity.

'What sort of experiments are you conducting, Miss Briggeham?'

Not a bit of mockery or sarcasm in his voice. Just keen interest. She hesitated a few seconds, then led him to her work area. 'Last night I mentioned one of my friends, a Miss Waynesboro-Paxton-'

'The lady who could not attend the soiree due to illness,' Lord Wesley broke in.

'Yes,' Sammie said, surprised he remembered. 'She suffers from severe joint pain, mostly in her fingers and knuckles. I noticed that two things help alleviate her pain: wrapping her hands in warm, moist towels, and massaging my honey cream into her hands. I am attempting to discover a way to make my honey cream self- heating.'

Lord Wesley stroked his chin and nodded slowly. 'Thus incorporating the wanning properties directly into the cream. And you're close to success?'

'I've recently made some progress, but I fear I've still much work to do. Still, I am determined to succeed.'

She raised her chin a notch, silently daring him to mock her, to dismiss her as nothing more than a bluestocking, but only admiration shone in his eyes.

'Ingenious idea,' he said, his gaze shifting to roam over her supplies. 'I offer you my sincere best wishes for success. Tell me, do you harvest your own honey?'

'Yes. I keep a half-dozen skeps behind the Chamber.'

'She's hoarding those last few jars like a miser,' Hubert said in a teasing voice. 'But once she harvests her skeps next month, I'll be able to nip off with a jar without her noticing it's missing. I fear I have a weakness for honey.'

Lord Wesley returned his gaze to her, studying her with an unfathomable expression that tightened her stomach. 'Yes, I fear I do as well,' he murmured. He then once again focused his attention on Hubert, and Sammie nearly groaned with relief.

Good heavens above, the man had the strangest effect on her senses. It was as if his nearness brought them all alive and into sharp focus. The feel of his strong arm beneath her palm as he'd escorted her down the garden paths; the woodsy, clean scent of him that made her want to lean closer to him and simply breathe him in. Disturbing feelings she'd managed quite well to ignore.

Until he'd stopped walking and looked at her with that intense expression that had curled her toes inside her slippers, and heated her from the inside out.

Until he'd brushed his.lips over her hand.

Warmth rushed into her cheeks, and she quickly walked to the telescope and pretended to inspect the instrument, to hide her confusion. And there was no denying the man confused her. She'd started out angry with him, but after he'd apologized, he'd somehow managed to disarm her and amuse her, just as he'd done at Mrs. Nordfield's soiree. She'd enjoyed their verbal sparring, but once they'd ceased talking, and he'd looked at her in that way… suddenly she hadn't felt like laughing. Suddenly she'd wanted nothing more than for him to touch her face, as he'd been about to do.

She caught herself in the act of heaving a long sigh, and mentally slapped herself. Heavens, what was she thinking? She couldn't possibly entertain romantic notions toward Lord Wesley. To do so would be the same as extending an engraved invitation to Heartbreak. She needed to keep her romantic fantasies focused on make- believe gentlemen who could not ever hold her heart in their hands. Or even on a man like the Bride Thief-one that existed only in her memory, and even there more as a heroic figure than a flesh-and-blood man.

The rumble of masculine voices drew her attention to the other side of the room where Hubert and Lord Wesley were engaged in conversation. Hubert's face was alight with the pleasurable glow that always suffused him when he discussed one of his experiments or inventions. It was a look normally focused on her, and an odd pang clutched her that it was currently focused on a man she wasn't certain she liked… A man she wasn't certain was worthy of the admiration shining from Hubert's eyes. Or perhaps the problem was the niggling fear that she could like him, if she allowed herself, and that Hubert's admiration wasn't misplaced.

Her gaze shifted to Lord Wesley, who was nodding, his serious expression riveted on the liquid-filled beaker Hubert held aloft. She tried to pull her gaze away, but she found herself admiring the man's profile-the sweep of his forehead, his high cheekbones, straight nose, firm lips, and the strong line of his jaw. As if he felt the weight of her regard, he turned and looked directly into her eyes. Heat washed through her and she barely refrained from smacking herself on the forehead. Dear Lord, he'd caught her staring! Coughing to cover her embarrassment, she quickly applied her eye to the new telescope, praying her cheeks were not as red as they felt.

Peering through the lens, she adjusted the focus, more out of a need to regain her composure than to actually see anything. The image of the garden sharpened, and she marveled at the wonder of the instrument. Mama's roses appeared close enough to touch, and-

A flash of blue crossed her line of vision. Adjusting her position, she squinted into the lens. Mama, her blue day gown flying behind her, was dashing toward the Chamber with a speed Sammie would have thought her incapable of. Heavens above, she'd forgotten all about her mother arranging refreshments for Lord Wesley. She was probably in a panic, wondering where the earl had gone, praying he was anywhere but the Chamber.

No sooner had Sammie straightened than the Chamber door burst open. Mama stood on the threshold, and Sammie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the disheveled picture her always perfectly turned out mother presented. Her chest heaved from the exertion of her sprint through the gardens, her fichu drooped limply from her bodice on one side, and her elaborate topknot, clearly missing several pins, sat askew on her head.

'There you are, Lord Wesley,' Mama managed between panting breaths. 'I thought you'd escaped… er, left before we had a chance to visit. I couldn't imagine where you'd gone. I've looked for you all through the gardens, even down at the stables.' She skewered Sammie with a horrified look that screamed whatever were you thinking to bring him here, instantly followed by her sternest we'll discuss this later glare.

Lord Wesley waved his hand in an arc, encompassing the Chamber. 'Hubert generously offered to show me his new telescope. A fine piece it is. And his laboratory is nothing short of amazing. You must be very proud of him.'

Mama's gaze shifted to Hubert, who seemed to grow two full inches at the earl's praise. A smile softened Mama's eyes as she gazed upon her undeniably brilliant son whom she fiercely loved, but did not understand one iota. 'Very proud,' she agreed briskly, somehow managing to smile and send Hubert a warning frown at the same time. 'Although the dear boy tends to forget that he mustn't bore our guests with all his complicated scientific chatter.'

'You need not worry, dear lady,' the earl said smoothly. 'Your son'-his gaze shifted briefly to Sammie-'and daughter are both delightful company. I've enjoyed myself immensely.'

Uncertainty flashed across Mama's face, as if she couldn't quite decide how much of the earl's words were truthful and how much were merely politeness. Clearly deciding her best strategy was to get him back to the house, she offered him her best hostess smile and announced, 'Tea and biscuits are set out in the parlor.'

He pulled a watch fob from his waistcoat and consulted the time. 'As much as I'd love to join you, I fear that I must leave.'

Mama's face showed her acute disappointment. Certain that her mother was about to issue an invitation for the earl to join them for tea another day, Sammie opened her mouth to intervene. She did not want Mama to entertain for even a second the notion that the earl would favor them with a return visit, nor did she want her mother disappointed when he refused. She firmly pushed aside the disturbing thought that she herself would be disappointed.

Before she could utter a word, however, Lord Wesley turned to her. 'A footman took charge of my mount when I arrived. Perhaps you would escort me to your stables, Miss Briggeham?'

'Ah, yes. Of course.'

'I thank you for the tour of your Chamber,' the earl said to Hubert, then turned to make Mama a formal bow.