The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Three

Richard cleared his throat to gather the attention of his fiancee. The brunette turned, those large green eyes that always intoxicated him, looking right through him.

Her full pink lips turned up as she placed the book she was holding onto the couch. "I was wondering whether I would have to spend the night order to see you."

"I do not think that very appropriate, Lady Delafort."

"Now you care for propriety, do you?"

They both glanced over at Beau who discreetly slipped through the doors. He froze upon seeing their gazes on him.

"I did," he responded with a groan, "but I am beginning to despise it."

Beau shrugged. "I cannot leave you to yourselves. I do not make the rules. I merely enforce them."

"And I wonder where you learnt such a phrase from," drawled Richard, shaking his head. He had said this before but as much as he loved his little brother, he was a gossiping little rat. Lady Delafort giggled, covering her mouth with a white-gloved hand.

"Having a chaperone is not so bad, Lord Caldwell."

"Dear God, must you torture me by referring to my title? It is what mother does with father when they are feeling...most affectionate." He shuddered in exaggeration. "Our engagement has already been established so Richard is what you should be calling me, my lady."

"I believe it goes both ways, Richard," she said, inching closer to him. The sleek, lavender gown she wore hugged her petite figure in ways that sent the blood curdling in his veins. The sleeves were short and puffy, as was the current fashion, the corset making her bosom seem rounded.

Beau coughed loudly from behind him. Richard shot his younger brother a glare before fixing his horse collar cravat. He grinned at his future wife who had her bottom lip rolled into her mouth, endeavouring to halt a smile from blossoming.

So beautiful, he mused. How lucky was he to have found his soulmate at a young age?

"Shall we go for a stroll?" he asked.

"I'd like to visit our river."

"It's been a long while since we've been."

"Yes, well, I can never get you out of that room. You're either sleeping away or indulging in your horrendous painting skills."

Richard grinned. "Is that jealousy I suspect?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to see His Grace. Coming?"

He had wanted to see his father, too, but since he had come from his outing to visit Lord Percival, he did not have it in him to see his father in such a state.

There was so much guilt clawing through his chest and ripping deep into his stomach, not giving him rest. He and his father did not get along very much. He loved Eliza as a daughter, and that was it. He did not wish for Richard to marry her, she who was not a Lady of good fortune.

He clenched his jaw. Dark lashes framing green orbs peered into his own. "If you do not wish for me to see him, I shall respect that."

"No," he closed his eyes before opening them again, "we shall see him together. I suppose I ought to pay him a visit."

"You still have not?"

His mind travelled back to the young black woman that he had found hiding away in his closet. What a shock that had been. Her black tresses were pulled into one long French braid; tight curls that came undone from the style framed her oval face. Her dark skin resembled the dark chocolate pudding the head cook Will famously loved to make for dessert—dark, smooth and sweet.