Read Online The Major's Faux Fiancee by Erica Ridley - Free Book Online Page B

his feet, careful not to upset his dining chair with his false leg. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”
    Before he could do more than stand, voices sounded in the corridor. Daphne all but stumbled into the dining room, propelled forward by none other than her guardian, Captain Steele.
    She looked tired and furious. And absolutely beautiful. Red-gold ringlets framed her ivory face. Her cheeks were a light pink. Her slender frame was all the more becoming draped in light blue linen instead of charcoal gray.
    Then again, now that he’d had his hands at her waist and felt her body slide against his, it wouldn’t matter if she wrapped herself in brown paper. Her curves had been burned into his mind. He couldn’t look at her without wanting to draw her back into his embrace.
    Whitfield and Fairfax nearly crashed into each other as they scrambled to their feet. “Miss Vaughan! Good morning!”
    Bartholomew’s jaw set. There was no point in bouncing about like a puppy. His leg would likely crumple if he tried.
    “You look lovely,” Whitfield stammered, gazing at her as if he’d just noticed her beauty. “Powder blue is quite a departure from…”
    Daphne’s eyes darkened, rather than brightened. Bartholomew understood perfectly. Being out of mourning didn’t mean one had stopped mourning. But it did mean one had ceased being treated that way.
    She smiled tightly and followed the footman to the empty chair at Bartholomew’s side. “Please. Sit. Enjoy your breakfast.”
    “Happily.” Fairfax’s eyes twinkled as he arched a brow at Bartholomew. “I’m afraid Blackpool was just leaving, though. Isn’t that what you said, Major?”
    Bartholomew slanted him a flat look and sat back down. All of them had finished breakfast an hour ago. Their plates had been long cleared, and only their tea or coffee cups remained.
    Fairfax doubtlessly wished Bartholomew out of the picture. Today was the day the marriage contract was to be signed. Only one of them would win Daphne’s hand.
    It had better be Bartholomew.
    Captain Steele slid into a chair at the head of the table. Within seconds, the footman reappeared with a fresh tray from which he began to serve the new arrivals.
    Steele ate with gusto. Daphne did not.
    After watching her flick her toast about her plate a few times, Bartholomew murmured under his breath, “Your heart is your own, no matter what color you’re wearing.”
    She shot him a quick, grateful glance and nodded firmly. “You’re right.”
    He smiled. “That doesn’t mean you ought—”
    “What’s that?” Fairfax lifted his brows, his eyes mischievous. “I can’t quite hear you all the way across this not-particularly-wide table. ’Tis almost as if you’re whispering on purpose, just to keep—”
    The footman interrupted this sally with another tray. Delivered straight to Mr. Fairfax. Instead of more foodstuffs, however, the otherwise empty tray bore only a folded missive.
    Frowning, Fairfax broke the seal and scanned the letter’s contents. His face was pale when he faced the others. “I’m afraid I’ve been called away. I must leave at once.”
    Frowning, Bartholomew felt no pleasure at this sudden departure. Fairfax’s sister was expecting Bartholomew’s niece or nephew, but the baby wasn’t due for another month and a half. His fingers turned to ice at the thought of Sarah or the baby in danger. “Is it…?”
    “No,” Fairfax said quickly. He rose on shaking legs. “Not yet. But I must be off. My apologies, all. Until next time.”
    He rushed from the dining room before anyone could so much as bid him farewell.
    The remaining four looked perhaps less baffled than the situation warranted. Daphne was still toying with a crust of toast as if she hadn’t registered Fairfax’s departure at all. Captain Steele was singlehandedly demolishing every other edible item on the table. And Whitfield kept vacillating between long, mooning gazes in Daphne’s direction and more surreptitious