Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) Read Free Page B

head to keep herself occupied , Alfred thought.
    As the sneeze came upon him, Alfred tried vainly to hold it in. But it only made his lips smack together loudly as a resounding “Ahh-CHOO!” echoed in the night.
    At the noise, Lord Seton opened his eyes and stared directly at Alfred. It seemed to take a few moments for Seton to recognize that the thing he saw lurking in the bushes was a man’s face.
    And it was the face of someone he knew.
    “Egads… Weston? ” the man asked, incredulous. “Is that you in there? Whatever are you doing lurking about in the bushes, man?”
    “Lurking?” Alfred said, non-chalantly. “Certainly not. Just looking for my wallet. I seem to have lost it.”
    Seton nodded. “Ah, bloody bad luck. Lady Fairfax and I will help you look for it, then.”
    “No!” Alfred exclaimed, then cleared his throat and said more calmly, “I mean—there is no need. I would not want to interrupt your evening, Seton. I’ll find it soon enough, I’m sure.”
    “Don’t be such a bloody hero, Weston,” Lord Seton said, moving about the bushes. “We would not dream of leaving you here to look for it alone, would we, my dear?”
    Alfred ducked into the bushes, wincing as the branches scratched his skin.
    The little red-haired strumpet would pay for this indignity .
    “Weston?” Seton called. “Where on earth have you got to, man?”
    “In here,” Alfred replied from the sanctuary of the foliage. “I think I’ve found it. Yes, there it is. Bloody good luck. I thank you for your help, Seton. You need not detain yourselves further.”
    “At least join us for a late supper, Weston,” Lord Seton pressed, peering into the dark branches that hid Alfred from view. “Come out of there and we’ll make an evening of it, the three of us. Eh, Weston? Weston?”
    In desperation, Alfred pushed himself through the bushes. He felt the sting of more cuts from the dense branches as he forced his way through to the other side.
    “Weston? Where are you?” he heard Seton calling.
    Now Alfred was stuck out on the street, which was, for the moment, blessedly empty. Still holding his hat in front of him, Alfred ran, feeling the cold cobblestones beneath his feet and the chilly night air touching him in places he usually kept clothed.
    “Weston!” he heard Seton shouting from behind him. “Have you gone bloody daft? You’re naked , man!”
    At the commotion on the street, a few doors opened and heads popped out to see what was amiss. The gawking faces passed by in a blur as Alfred rounded the next corner and dashed behind a hedge. Panting, he stopped and caught his breath.
    Now, all he had to do was pray that a coach would come by in the very near future. He folded his arms in front of him and did a little dance to keep warm.
    He wanted to leap for joy when a coach rolled toward him, but decided against drawing any more attention to himself than he already had.
    Alfred waved his hat furiously from around the hedge. The driver saw the movement and stopped, craning his neck to see who hailed him. Alfred sprang out of the dark foliage and dashed into the safety of the cab. Sighing with relief, he leaned out the open window and called his address out to the driver.
    The coach jerked ahead and started down the street. Alfred settled back in the seat, trying to ignore the strange feeling of being completely naked in the cab of a coach. He would be home soon, he told himself, home and in his robe, drinking a nice brandy by the fire.
    And while he drank the brandy and warmed himself up and stared at the orange flames of the fire, he would plan how to find the red-headed strumpet who had robbed him and left him naked in the night.
    And exactly how he would make her pay.

Chapter 3

    Alfred reached for his cup of coffee and downed a gulp. He looked across the table at his Great-Aunt Withypoll, who was still engrossed with the Times , then back at his plate of poached eggs, braised ham and biscuits with raspberry