The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(27)

“She’s twelve?”

Joseph paused. “Good God, she’s fifteen. Cripes, didn’t realize. She’ll be coming out in just three years, two if she has her way. I keep thinking about her as if she was a little girl. You’ll like my sisters, though. Everyone does.”

Truth be told, Henderson was a bit nervous about spending any time with a girl. He’d grown up quite alone and spent most of his time at school. He could hardly even recall having a conversation with a female his own age. To him, they were a foreign and beautiful mystery. All that hair and lace and creamy skin.

“Come on, then, the carriage is waiting,” Joseph said, hauling up his overstuffed bag. He stopped, his brown eyes shining with excitement. “This is going to be the best summer.”



*



Henderson had been given the room next to Joseph and one that overlooked the garden. Through the trees at the edge of the property, he could see the brilliant blue-green of the sea. It had touched him that they had put him in the family wing rather than where guests might normally stay. The Hubbards puzzled him, to be honest, welcoming a complete stranger into their home. Richard was the son of a duke, thus the reason he was called “Lord” Hubbard instead of “Mr.” Hubbard, and they were part of a world Henderson had never even hoped to have a glimpse of, never mind be welcomed into as if part of the family. His own mother detested him, though his grandparents did try to make up for that with their love. Both Hubbard boys insisted he stay in the family wing, saying he was more a brother to them than anything else. Indeed, the Hubbards and their easy ways had immediately made him feel comfortable.

The first morning he took his cup of strong, black coffee and stepped out onto the balcony to greet the day. Sunlight streamed into his room, and when he swung open the French doors, a strong scent of the sea rushed in, carrying with it the sounds of summer—birds, a gardener clipping shrubbery, a squirrel chattering angrily at a massive tabby cat that sat beneath a tree. God, he loved it here.

He’d taken his first sip when he spied a woman in the gardens below him, and he paused, the cup held suspended, as he watched her. Though he hadn’t been exposed to many women in his nineteen years, he realized he was staring at pure female perfection. Had anyone been standing next to him, it would have been painfully obvious that he’d become almost instantly smitten. She was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. She was strolling in the garden, wearing a wide-brimmed hat trimmed with sky-blue ribbon and a dress that matched the ribbon perfectly. His eyes drifted down her form, stopping briefly at the swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist. As he watched, she bent to take a closer look at a rose and the smile that came to her face made him feel a rush of lust so strong, he found himself gripping the railing, his knuckles white from the strain, and he let out a small sound.

Straightening suddenly, she whirled about and looked up directly at him, one hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “Hello. You must be Henderson.”

Odd, how would she know—Oh, God. No.

Walking toward the house, a breeze causing a few stray strands of her light hair to escape her hat, she looked up and smiled. “I’m Alice, Joseph’s sister.” He stood there, mute, horrified. “Don’t tell me Joseph didn’t tell you he had a sister. Two, actually, though Christina is off with Aunt Gladys this summer. It would be something he would do just to vex me.” She laughed, as if the idea of her brother pulling such a trick was great fun.

“No. I, that is to say, Joseph told me he had a sister. Two sisters.” Alice was supposed to be a fifteen-year-old child. Not this…this woman who stood before him, all luscious curves and sparkling eyes.

Henderson shook his head and let out a near-silent chuckle, frankly horrified that his body had such a violent reaction to Joseph’s little sister. God, he was depraved. Then again, he hadn’t known he was looking at Alice. In his mind, she was a child.

She seemed disappointed to learn he had known of her existence and a bit uncertain what to say.

“I’ll see you at breakfast, then,” she said cheerfully.

“Oh, yes. Breakfast.”

“It’s a meal in the morning where one breaks one’s fast.” She smiled and tilted her head, then turned around, her skirts flying about, and headed back to the garden.

“Yes, I’ll see you there,” Henderson called out, feeling foolish.

She didn’t turn around again, merely waved her hand in acknowledgment, which made him feel as if he were a gauche boy, not a man about to enter university.

Giving himself a mental shake, he returned to his room, wishing with all his being that he had known whom he was looking at before seeing her in the garden. Joseph’s sister might look like a woman, have a woman’s curves, but she was still just fifteen. Swallowing heavily, he made a promise to himself to stay away from Alice, to never let her know where his thoughts had gone.

A quiet knock on the door pulled him away from his thoughts. “Enter.” Joseph’s valet came into the room and wished him a brisk good morning.

“Lord Hubbard has asked that you meet him for breakfast after your shave, sir.”

Henderson laughed, bringing his hand up to touch his jaw, which was covered with three days’ growth. Shaving was one of his least favorite activities, even under the care of an excellent valet. If it were up to him, he would let his beard grow, but neither his mother nor Joseph would allow it. “You look like an American mountain man,” Joseph had said more than once. Henderson didn’t much care how he looked, so he forced himself to shave if only to shut Joseph up.