Brette: Intentions Gone Astray by Collette Cameron

Author:Collette Cameron
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2017-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

Even with prudence and discernment,

it’s often difficult to determine who causes the most mischief:

Enemies with the worst intentions or friends claiming the best.

Appearances and Attitude–The Genteel Lady’s Guide to Practical Living

Chapter Nine

From beneath hooded eyes, primal appreciation warming his blood, Alex regarded Brette as the carriage gently swayed. She and Lady Ravensdale spoke quietly about a blanket Brette was crocheting for the babe.

He’d tried to cry off attending the Goodinghams’ dinner party, but Brooke had gently reminded him she’d already sent an acceptance on his behalf. If he wasn’t prostrate in bed, dying, his absence would reflect poorly on them. Something they tried to avoid presently.

The exaggeration hadn’t been lost on him, but he’d taken her point.

They couldn’t risk offending those still welcoming Brette into their exclusive parlors. The others were a bunch of pompous windbags, most with a secret or two or twenty they wouldn’t appreciate bandied about publically. As rector, he’d been privy to more than one guilty confession which made their treatment of Brette harder to stomach.

No oath prevented him from sharing those tidbits now, but his conscience did, blister it.

He covered his mouth with a forefinger, curbing his burgeoning smile. Permitted uncharitable opinions without immediate self-recrimination. How refreshing.

A smile lit Brette’s face as she laughed at something her sister, er, cousin said, her unreserved joy adding to her already staggering exquisiteness.

His breath had left him in a gut-punching whoosh when she’d descended the stairs tonight, absolutely ravishing in a sapphire and white gown embellished with silver threads and lace, her glorious halo of moon spun hair twisted into a new and most becoming style, complete with a jeweled circlet sparkling between the shiny tendrils.

Up to now, he’d attributed such sentimental fribble to enamored—or drunken—corkbrains, but when he’d tried to draw in a meager breath and his blasted lungs refused to cooperate, he could no longer deny the phenomenon existed.

How could she possibly have grown more beautiful since yesterday?

How could he have become more besotted?

The carriage sank into a bone-jarring rut, nearly vaulting him from his seat. His foot accidently brushed her skirt before he retreated into the coach’s shadows once more.

Bestowing him a forgiving smile, her gaze genial, yet slightly hesitant around the edges, she searched his face. When he didn’t respond with an upward sweep of his lips, she dropped her gaze and captured her plump lower lip between her teeth.

He’d nibbled that tasty spot of wonderfulness only yesterday.

Was she recalling their kiss as well?

Or his botched declaration?

Two proposals and two refusals. Rather bruised his pride, it did.

Why had she rejected him again?

Rubbing his gloved fingers together, he pulled his eyebrows tight. Perhaps she fancied another, unbeknownst to him. Why hadn’t that occurred to him before? If so, who was the chap?

Did it matter?

A third proposal wouldn’t be forthcoming. The iota of pride he hadn’t surrendered while rector demanded he not make himself an idiot over her again.

He’d actually believed she might accept his spontaneous offer this time, if he assured her they’d wait to marry.

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