Three Weddings and a Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

his best chance.
    The day was fine; the vista from atop the ridge was lovely. Birds sang; gentle breezes blew. There couldn’t be a more perfect time and place for a marriage proposal. Or at least a courtly kiss. Surely the man would seize this opportunity to declare his love.
    Eliza just had to contrive some way for Philippa and Brentley to be alone—which meant she must distract Mr. Wright.
    The only solution that came to her was clichéd and transparent and honestly beneath a young lady of her intelligence, but…
    “Oh!” she cried, stumbling dramatically and catching herself on a nearby tree.
    Her companions turned to face her.
    “Are you well, Miss Eliza?” Brentley asked.
    “What is it, dear?” asked Philippa.
    “My ankle. I’ve turned it.” Eliza took a feeble hop toward a boulder. “I’ll have to rest here, I’m afraid. I’ll just have a seat on that stone.”
    Mr. Wright moved in her direction, holding his free hand outstretched. “Allow me to be of service.”
    Eliza hopped faster, bouncing toward the stone on one foot. “Thank you, but I’m sure I don’t need your assistance.”
    “I’m very sure you don’t,” he murmured dryly, reaching her side. He lifted her arm and draped it over his shoulders. His arm stole around her waist, cinching tight. “There now. Take it slowly, on account of your ‘injury.’”
    Eliza had no choice but to hobble forward in his embrace.
    “This would go much easier if you’d trust me,” he whispered.
    “Trust you?”
    As Mr. Wright seated her on the boulder, a roguish spark lit his eyes. He knelt before her and grasped the hem of her frock. “Now, then. Let’s have a look.”
    Eliza jerked the muslin from his grasp. “Absolutely not.”
    “But you’re injured.”
    “I’m not dead,” she whispered. “Which is what I’d have to be, to permit you to lift my skirts.”
    “Then I can assess with touch instead.”
    His hand slid beneath the frail fabric, grazing her stockinged ankle. A caress as shocking in its familiarity as in its boldness. He touched her so easily, without excuse or apology. As though she were his for the touching.
    Shameless.
    An unwelcome thrill chased up her calf and curled in the hollow of her knee. Impertinent sensation, making itself right at home.
    She jerked away from his touch, turning away. “I only need a few minutes’ rest, I’m sure. Lord Brentley, why don’t you show my sister the ruins while I catch my breath? She might not have another chance to see them.”
    “I confess, I would be desolated to miss the sight,” Philippa said.
    “Then it’s a plan.” Brentley gave her a warm smile. “That is, if Harry doesn’t mind staying behind to look after you, Miss Eliza.”
    Mr. Wright took another bite of his nectarine. “Oh, I don’t mind at all.”
    Eliza tried not to roll her eyes. She knew full well the unpleasantness she was in for. But enduring twenty minutes of Mr. Wright’s company would be well worth the sacrifice, if Philippa returned from those ruins engaged.
    Once the two had disappeared around a bend in the path, a thick silence swelled and pulsed. Eliza dabbed a sheen of perspiration from her brow.
    “Is it terribly painful?” he asked, all solicitousness. “Your ankle.”
    “No. Not terribly.”
    “Is there anything I can do to increase your comfort?”
    “No, thank you. I’m feeling improved already.”
    His mouth pulled to the side. He stood and brushed the dust from his thighs. “Well, in that case, perhaps I’ll catch up to Brentley and your sister.”
    Eliza startled. “No! You can’t leave me here alone.”
    “Why not?” His head cocked to the side. “You said you walk alone all the time.”
    “Well, yes. But—”
    “And your injury, such as it was, is already improved. If you have no need of me, I’ve an interest in seeing the ruins. I won’t be long.”
    He turned and began to walk away. Impossible man! Could he not allow his friend a moment’s peace?
    “Wait.” She