Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms 3)

Belinda gave a slight shake of her head. No, she and Colin had an agreement, and at the end, they would go their separate ways. Implicit in that understanding was the fact that they would plan not to have children.

She was thirty-three. Even if Colin turned the property over to her in two years, she’d be thirty-five and still have some time ahead of her.

She recalled Colin’s words when she’d asked what would prevent her from obtaining a divorce eventually. Perhaps I’m banking on the fact that you won’t want to.

She experienced a strange quiver. She wasn’t sure if she still completely understood Colin’s motives, and that was troubling.

Her mother exchanged looks with Uncle Hugh and then addressed her. “Perhaps you might see Tod…in order to make amends.”

Belinda’s jaw dropped. “Make amends?”

“Yes, darling, in order to keep your options open. You will, after all, be a single woman again some day.”

Belinda was flabbergasted. Here she’d been concerned about the possibility, however unlikely, of conceiving a child with Colin, and her mother was already thinking about her next husband.

Her mother had obviously not given up on the Dillinghams.

“You know I won’t be around forever,” Uncle Hugh joined in, “and Tod would make a good steward of the Wentworth estates.”

“There are practically no Wentworth estates at the moment,” Belinda retorted. “It’s all in Granville hands.”

It wasn’t technically true. They still had one estate in Berkshire left, as well as a couple of rental buildings, but it hadn’t been in the family that long. Still, at least they wouldn’t be homeless, thank goodness, if Colin turned them out.

“This arrangement with Colin need be only a bump

in the road,” Uncle Hugh went on. “Surely once it’s over, you’ll wish to return to your rightful groom and pick up where you left off.”

Belatedly, Belinda recognized just how much animosity her uncle harbored toward Colin, who’d divested him of the Wentworth patrimony. Uncle Hugh was ready to shoo her back in Tod’s direction at a moment’s notice.

Her mother was worse. She was almost suggesting that Belinda befriend Tod and keep her options open, as it were, even before her marriage to Colin ended.

“Tod is no longer in the picture,” Belinda responded flatly.

She reached forward and set her teacup down with more noise than necessary.

“Now, now, Belinda,” her mother said in a soothing voice, “no need to get snappish. Your uncle means well.”

“We’re thinking of your best interests.”

“Are you?” Belinda said as she stood up. “Then why is it up to me to save the family fortunes?”

She turned then and walked out the door.

She would head back to her London hotel, and then fly to New York to settle her affairs there.

Life had just taken a detour—one that led to Halstead Hall.

Seven

Belinda’s eyes misted as Pia reached the front of the church.

Pia looked beautiful in her wedding gown, holding a tightly bunched bouquet of red roses. A delicate tiara graced her coiffure. It was a gift from Pia’s groom, Hawk, for their wedding day.

In a nod to her groom’s country, Pia had made a fashion-forward choice from a British designer. In a bow to tradition, however, the dress had lace elbow-length sleeves and a full skirt. The ensemble was light and ethereal, like Pia.

Belinda adjusted the skirt of Pia’s dress and then took the bouquet from her friend’s hands, all the while steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with Easterbridge, standing a few feet away, next to the groom.

The service was being held in the parish church near Silderly Park, the Duke of Hawkshire’s estate in Oxford.