A Reluctant Bride (The Shelley Sisters Book 1) Read online

  Thomasina nodded, but by this point she really didn’t care about her sister’s plan. All she cared about was that she had agreed to this foolish notion. And that tonight, even for a moment, she would be Harcourt’s. Tonight, just for a little while, he would be hers.

  Chapter 2

  Jasper Percival Stephen Kincaid, Earl of Harcourt, stood by the side of the ballroom floor feeling decidedly out of sorts. But then, that was his constant state and had been since a year before, when he had taken the title after the tragic death of his half-brother. A year before when the consequences of his father’s and brother’s bad behavior had become painfully and pointedly clear to him.

  He was left cleaning up the mess. And this was how one did it. By standing to the side, watching the ball to celebrate his engagement dance by and trying to remember how to smile so no one would see his misery in the act.

  “Small steps,” he muttered to himself as he thrust his shoulders back.

  “Miss Anne Shelley,” his footman intoned, and the party stopped spinning as his fiancée entered the ball honoring her and their future nuptials. He set his jaw as he watched her enter to a smattering of applause.

  She wore a stunning gown. It was red, because of course it was. Anne Shelley had never done anything by half. It had a low neckline trimmed in golden swirls of thread and would have been the exact kind of scandal he was trying to avoid at all costs but for another strip of gold fabric between her breasts that kept the world from seeing everything. Her dark blonde hair was bound up high on the crown of her head, with perfect ringlet curls falling from the mound to create an illusion of being tousled.

  She was lovely, of course. And she did nothing for him. She never had and he accepted that. Reluctantly.

  Only as she lifted her face toward the crowd’s adulation and subsequently in his direction, he realized something in a heartbeat. Despite the fact that she had been introduced as Anne Shelley, despite not correcting that notion nor denying the greetings of those around her…it was not Anne who stood at the entryway to the ballroom.

  It was Thomasina Shelley, youngest of the Shelley triplets. The only one of the three Jasper could immediately identify the moment the sisters entered the room. He had no idea why he could pick her from the threesome and not his fiancée or the other sister, Juliana. He had no idea why he sometimes found himself watching her as she read or talked or danced or just moved through the world.

  He certainly had no idea why she was gliding though his ballroom, a look of tension on her lovely face, and pretending to be Anne at this, the last of their engagement balls.

  But despite not knowing, he couldn’t help a stir in his chest. Something that said life was suddenly much more interesting.

  Thomasina couldn’t feel her legs. Or her arms. They were all tingling out of control and she had no idea how she was keeping herself upright as she walked across the ballroom, forcing a smile at the felicitations her sister’s guests called out. She had played the role of Anne before, of course, but she regretted agreeing to it this time. Schoolgirl pranks were nothing like this…monstrosity.

  “Good evening, Anne.”

  She froze and slowly turned to her left to find Harcourt standing at her elbow, his chocolate gaze sweeping over her from head to toe, taking in every inch of the exposed skin her sister loved to display. Thomasina felt almost naked with the top swell of her breasts lifted just above the line of the fabric.

  “G-good evening, my lord,” she managed to breathe as she let herself look at him. By God, but he was handsome. Why was he so handsome? And he was also observant, which was very dangerous in this situation.

  She shoved aside the star-struck response he always engendered in her and tried for the cool smile her sister could easily find. “Quite a gathering,” she mused, and wished her voice didn’t tremble ever so slightly.

  He moved a fraction closer and his hand settled into the small of her back as he guided her toward the edge of the dancefloor. She tensed at the touch, so familiar, so warm, even through the layers of her gown. He had touched her before, of course, when they danced or if he helped her into a carriage.

  But this was something else. There was something…possessive about his fingers curling so low on her back. But of course there would be. She wasn’t Thomasina to him, she was Anne. She was his. He could be a little possessive if he wished to be.

  “You look lovely,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her face a second time. He was really looking at her, too. So very dangerous.

  She dropped her chin even though it wasn’t an action Anne would take in the face of a compliment. Her sister did not demur. But it was better than being caught. “Thank you, my lord.”

  He stared at her a beat longer, then looked off into the crowd. “It is quite a crush,” he said. “You must be pleased.”

  She blinked out at all the people swirling around. Too many of them and it was hot. “Pleased?” she repeated.

  “You said you wanted the wedding of the decade,” he explained, arching a brow in her direction. “It seems you shall have your wish.”

  Thomasina swallowed hard and reminded herself that she was meant to be Anne, who loved to be the center of attention. She could not forget that at her own peril.

  “I am very pleased,” she said with a forced smile for him. “I hope you are, as well.”

  His brows lifted, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to say something. Then he looked away and focused on the crowd again. They stood in silence for a moment, though she would not call it companionable. He was too stiff and she too terrified to label it as such. Then he faced her again. “You know who I have not seen this evening?” he asked.

  She tilted her head. “Who?”

  “Miss Thomasina.” He held her gaze. “Where is your sister?”

  Thomasina cleared her throat and tried to calm her racing heart. He was bound to hear it if she didn’t settle herself. “Er, a headache,” she lied. “Poor dear. I tried to talk her into joining us, but she declared it was too painful.”

  “That sounds serious,” he drawled. “I could call for a doctor for her. He could be here in less than half an hour if I send my best horse. I could even go myself if you think it is truly dire.”

  Thomasina shook her head swiftly. “Oh no, my lord. I promise you it is not serious. She would greatly appreciate your kind concern, I’m sure, but it is not needed. My sister will likely be right as rain tomorrow.”

  He nodded slowly. “That is good news. But I suppose Thomasina is not overly brokenhearted about missing the ball. She does not like such things, I think. Or at least not as much as you do.” He glanced over the crowd again. “Or is it me she does not care for?”

  Thomasina pivoted on him in shock. He could not truly believe she didn’t like him! The very idea was terrible. “My lord,” she said. “I assure you I—she…no, she isn’t as comfortable at a ball as An—er, as I am or as Juliana is, but Thomasina thinks only the highest of you. Why would you think otherwise?”

  He shrugged but continued to keep his gaze away from her. “I don’t know. Only that she flees every room I am in. And she will not meet my stare sometimes.”

  The blood was draining so rapidly from Thomasina’s cheeks that she feared she might collapse right here in the middle of the engagement ball and cause the kind of scene that would be talked about for decades. Especially if her ruse was uncovered. She dragged in a ragged breath and smiled at her sister’s fiancé.

  “You know Thomasina,” she said, waving a hand to dismiss her own actions. “She is shy. I’m certain her behavior has nothing to do with her esteem of you. Quite the opposite.”

  “Quite the opposite,” he repeated, and now the corner of his lip lifted in half a smile. A rare expression, indeed. “And what does that mean?”

  Thomasina opened and shut her mouth, for it seemed no matter what she said, she was digging herself in a deeper hole with this observant man. She shook her head and tried to focus. What would Anne do? What would Anne
say?

  She tossed her hair. “You are suddenly very interested in my sister, my lord.”

  He shrugged again. “Not at all. I’m glad to hear she isn’t terribly unwell. I do like that little mouse.”

  Thomasina’s mouth dropped open. Little mouse? Had he called her a little mouse? This time she did not have to force a cold tone as she said, “She is more than that, I assure you.”

  He smiled again, this time tightly. “Well, then I shall have to get to know her better. Once you and I are wed.”

  “Yes.” Thomasina blinked. Was that right? “Er, no. I mean, yes.”

  He ignored her stammering as the orchestra began a waltz. “Shall we dance?”

  She stared at the dancefloor where the couples were gathering and swirling off into each other’s arms. She had only ever danced country jigs and the like with Harcourt. A waltz would require being tucked into his arms.

  And yet there was no way to refuse him under her current deception.

  “Certainly,” she murmured, and took the elbow he offered. Touching him immediately made her very aware of herself, her body and her wayward thoughts. Made her very aware that she wasn’t Anne, even if she pretended. Anne was always confident. Thomasina felt anything but.

  And yet, as he turned her onto the dancefloor and they began to spin together in time to the music, she felt herself find some of the calm she had been seeking since she entered the room. His fingers on her hip were comforting, his grip on her hand firm but gentle. He was certain in his movements and truly guided her, leading her so that she couldn’t falter or fall.

  For a moment, she forgot everything but him as she stared up into his face, memorizing the lines of it, the curves of his lips, the angle of his jaw. She searched the darkness of his eyes and wondered what he was thinking, for his stern expression gave no indication of whatever was in his mind.

  “You really are lovely,” he murmured, and then his eyes widened as if he had not meant to say those words out loud.

  Thomasina stumbled, but he kept her upright as they continued to turn to the music. He wasn’t saying those things to her. Not really. He meant to say them to Anne. If there was warmth in his expression or if he was drawn to someone, it was to Anne. Which was the way it was supposed to be. It would be better for them both if they found a way to care for each other.

  And yet as Thomasina stared up at him, she couldn’t help but drink in his compliment and his regard and his warmth. She couldn’t help but pretend that it was her he wanted. And that she could want him in return without it being a harsh betrayal of a most beloved sister.

  She took that moment and allowed it, knowing there would never be another.

  The music slowed and he released her so that he could bow and she curtsey in return. As he placed her hand back into the crook of his elbow, he said, “You look warm.”

  “I am. The crowd, you know.”

  “Well, then let me escort you to the terrace for some air,” he said, and smoothly drew her through the crowd to the exit onto the veranda outside the massive room.

  She stepped into the cool night air, trying to find purchase again when she felt like her world had been spun directly off its axis. Drawing away from him, she moved to the low stone wall and gripped her hands there as she stared down into his beautiful garden maze.

  If only she could gather her thoughts. She had to do so, and quickly.

  “You know, that dress reminds me of one you wore the day we went riding in the park this spring,” he said. “Do you recall it? Just before we announced our engagement.”

  Thomasina blinked as she continued to stare out at the garden. Oh God, he was bringing up events that had happened where she had not been witness. Had her sister gone riding with him before their engagement? Her father had been trying to push Anne toward Harcourt, even before the family as a whole met him. It was all a blur now, memories Thomasina tried not to revisit because the entire engagement brought an odd tightness to her heart.

  “Anne?”

  She nodded, still not looking at him. “Er, yes. Of course I recall it. What a…what a day that was.” She silently cursed Anne for never giving more details of her courtship with Harcourt. Thomasina hadn’t wanted them, but now she needed them.

  “It was,” he mused. “I think you fell in love that day.”

  She pivoted with a gasp and stared at him. “What?”

  He smiled. “With my sorrel mare, Ember.”

  Thomasina reached back to steady herself on the wall’s edge and nodded. “Oh yes, of course. A beautiful animal.”

  “Indeed,” he breathed, and moved a long step toward her. He was crowding her suddenly, pressing into her space as she stared up and up at him. “Beautiful,” he repeated.

  His hand came out. She watched it extend almost in slow motion and couldn’t breathe as his fingers fanned across her jawline. He tilted her face up a fraction, his expression focused in the moonlight. Then he slowly began to lower his mouth to hers.

  For a wild, wanton moment Thomasina considered allowing the kiss. She wanted it. She could admit that in her own mind even if she would never say it out loud to any other living soul. She wanted his mouth on hers and his hands on her and a great many other reckless things that fit Anne’s personality more than her own.

  But then the moment passed. And she recalled that this man wasn’t hers. That letting him kiss her was wrong, a betrayal. At the last opportunity to escape, she slipped to the side and dodged him.

  “I, er, I should go inside,” she stammered, her entire body trembling as she refused to meet his gaze. “I ought to check on—check on my sister.”

  She didn’t wait for his response. She merely turned and all but ran from him. And wished, in her deepest heart, that she didn’t have to do so.

  As Thomasina entered the house, Jasper sagged against the terrace wall, letting his weight press into the stone as he fought for breath. Had he almost kissed her?

  The plan had been to test her. With his questions about herself, with their dance together, with his lies about rides with Anne before their engagement. It was all meant to see how far Thomasina would go and if she would admit to her ruse at some point.

  But the plan had never been to stare down at her in the moonlight and not only want to press his mouth to hers…but need it. Not as a test, not as a part of a plan, but because when she stared up at him, her lower lip trembling, her hands clenching against the wall ledge, her gaze reflecting stars…he had longed for her.

  Not her sister. Her. Thomasina Shelley.

  And it was only her pulling away that had stopped him from taking what he wanted even though he knew it was wrong.

  “At least she wouldn’t betray her family, even if she was lying,” he muttered as he stared up at the moon above with unseeing eyes.

  But that wasn’t why he’d tried to kiss her either. It wasn’t to test Thomasina’s loyalty.

  In the few months he’d been engaged to Anne, he had never felt such a notion with his fiancée. He’d tried to make himself want her, connect with her in some way, but he felt nothing when he looked at her except a faint dread that he was going to link himself to her for the rest of his life in order to garner her fortune and save himself.

  But with Thomasina it had been different. No one else would ever understand that. He had friends who joked he might kiss the wrong girl, even marry her, because the Shelley sisters all had the same face. But to him, they were different. Or Thomasina was.

  And tonight he had wanted, quite desperately, to kiss her.

  He slammed his hands against the wall ledge. “Bollocks!” he grunted.

  This would not do. He had a job to do here, a duty to his mother and his tenants and his servants and everyone else who depended upon him to fix what damage his father and his brother had done to their standing. He had to refocus on those goals and pull his plans back in line.

  And the first step to doing so was to stop thinking about kissing Thomasina Shelley and instead find out exactl
y why she had played the role of Anne tonight. Only then could he skirt scandal and stay the course he’d laid out.

  Only then could he forget what he wanted, swallow it back, and do what he needed to do instead.

  Chapter 3

  Thomasina tripped over the edge of a carpet and careened into the banister at the bottom of the stairs. She steadied herself as best she could, ignoring what would certainly bloom into an ugly bruise on her hip. She continued her mad rush up the stairs, away from the spinning, swirling ballroom and what she had almost done just outside its doors.

  The Earl of Harcourt had nearly kissed her. Not in a dream, not in a wicked fantasy she could pretend had never happened, but in reality. He had pinned her against a terrace wall and leaned in until his face had gone blurry and her whole body had tingled with anticipation and a load of other sensations she dared not name.

  Even now, just thinking about it, her body traitorously softened and her hands clenched at her sides with a want unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  He had done it because he believed her to be Anne. Not that Anne had ever talked about the man kissing her. She always dismissed him as cold, but the way he had moved on Thomasina and the feel of his breath on her skin had been anything but that.

  Still, he had done no wrong, because he didn’t know the truth. She, on the other hand, knew everything and the fact that she had nearly lifted into him and surrendered her mouth was most decidedly wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. She was a liar and a betrayer and a whole lot of other words that pinged around in her mind like billiard balls hit too hard during a game.