The Wedding Affair

by Leigh Michaels

  Penelope’s cloak had slipped aside, and through the thin muslin of her sleeve she could feel the suppleness of the earl’s driving glove, the kid as warm as his own skin would be, barely an inch from her breast. Her nipple seemed to reach out for him, and she felt herself flush and tense. If he turned his hand in the slightest…

  “Yes, Andrew,” the earl mocked. “Do demonstrate. Seeing you giving lessons in etiquette will be something new.”

  Penelope’s breast felt chilly as her husband’s fingers relaxed and dropped away. She forced a laugh as she allowed Andrew Carlisle to take her hand and help her up into the curricle.

  But she wished the earl had been the one who stood there while she climbed up, with her skirt brushing his coat sleeve and him supporting her with the iron strength of his arm.

  ***

  Shopping was not a major pastime for the females of Steadham village, for the shops were small and mainly devoted to necessities. But in a dusty little corner of the dry-goods store, high above the bolts of plain coarse cloth, Olivia discovered a box piled with lace and trimmings.

  “Left over when the dressmaker died,” the proprietor said. “Back in the old duchess’s day, Halstead kept her busy. Now the ladies shop mostly in London.”

  “Fashions were different then.” Olivia sorted through the box. The lace was good, though it was mostly scraps too small to make anything but a pincushion, but the braid might be useful. “A dressmaker would have been occupied just keeping all the embroidery and ruffled lace in good shape in those days.”

  “Nobody knew what to do with these things, so they ended up here.” The shopkeeper poked at a bit of lace with a stubby finger. “Not much call for delicate things here in Steadham. Not that the womenfolk around here wouldn’t like them, but they’ve a need to be practical. What use is a piece of lace with no more strength than a cobweb?”

  He was no doubt right about the durability, Olivia thought, considering the contents of the box must be twenty years old. Still, if her fingers were nimble enough, she could retrim her best dress in such a way that she wouldn’t stand out as a three-years-out-of-style dowd at Lady Daphne’s wedding. The new decoration would only have to last one wearing, for no matter how long Olivia lived in Steadham, there would never be such a social occasion again.

  She fingered a length of braid. “How much for this?”

  The proprietor eyed her steadily. “You’d be doing me a kindness to take the whole box off my hands,” he said, and named a price.

  He was asking little enough, but she had no coins to spare. Olivia kept her smile in place. “Just the braid,” she said steadily, and the proprietor grumbled as he untangled the braid and wound it up neatly for her.

  As Olivia left the dim shop, blinking against the strong afternoon sunlight, a group of young women came down the street. They strolled along in pairs, their brilliant array of gowns and stylish parade of hats and parasols a sharp contrast to the duller colors of the fabric bolts she had just surveyed.

  Toward the back of the group, Olivia spotted Kate. As the parade paused outside the dry-goods shop to debate the question of going in, Kate stepped aside to join her friend.

  Olivia said quietly, “Are you walking them to the village to keep them out of trouble?”

  “Out of trouble? The duke commented that he would be absorbed in business this afternoon—in the village—so suddenly Daphne’s bridesmaids felt in need of taking the air. They all started out, though some turned back. Too far to walk on a warm day, they said.”

  “Even to admire a duke? Though surely they would find it easier to brush up against him at Halstead.”

  “I’m sure you don’t need me to explain that he’s escaped to the village rather than summoning the tradesmen to come to him. There he is now, coming out of the inn.”

  From the corner of her eye, Olivia had already noted the duke. His sheer size and the breadth of his shoulders in a finely cut, dark blue riding coat would have commanded the attention of anyone passing on the street. But beyond good looks, there was something about the way he carried himself…

  A sense of entitlement well wrapped in arrogance. She turned her back to him.

  “Truly,” Kate said, “I’ve never seen such a pack of females outside of a kennel.”

  “They’re not as well-bred as you’d hoped, then? I’m sorry, Kate.”

  “They’re too naive to realize how notorious he is.”

  “Perhaps they don’t care, so long as there’s a chance to end up as a duchess. It would be quite a coup if one of them nipped in under the very noses of all her friends to snatch him up.”

  “They’re guileless, that’s certain. They were all excited last night when Daphne said she’d ask the duke to put up a diamond bracelet as a prize in an archery contest she’s planning for later in the week.”

  “Surely the Duke of Somervale has more sense than to go around giving diamond bracelets to girls who’ve barely come out.”

  “Of course he does. But when Daphne whispered that Simon’s valet keeps a selection always at hand—an entire chest full of diamond bracelets, she said, so the duke is never without a gift to woo a mistress—the girls were drawn like moths to a flame.”

  The only surprise there, Olivia mused, was that the duke’s sister knew of his exploits. “A chest full of diamond bracelets to woo a mistress?” She gave a gurgle of laughter. “To get rid of her afterwards, more likely. If that is the sort of tale being shared at Halstead, how I wish I could be around when Lady Daphne starts telling ghost stories to her friends!”

  A deep voice interrupted. “Lady Reyne, I hardly thought it possible to insult me, my sister, and every one of her friends in less than a minute. But I should have realized you would find a way.”

  Olivia had expected he would already be surrounded by the half-dozen eager young women, so she had felt it safe—as well as advisable—not to watch him. What a foolish idea that had been. She faced him and raised her chin. She should be getting used to him looming over her… but surely yesterday he hadn’t seemed quite so tall. “I intended no insult, Your Grace.”

  “Really? You expect me to believe it was an accident for you to call me a cad, my sister an embroiderer of tales, and her friends gullible—all in the same breath?”

  Olivia smiled. “You’ll have to choose one or the other, Your Grace. Either I believe you do have a chest full of diamond bracelets and your sister told the simple truth, or I believe you don’t and she was having fun with her friends. I’m afraid it’s impossible for me to have insulted you both.” She congratulated herself for avoiding the question of Lady Daphne’s bridesmaids altogether. If they believed that faradiddle, then gullible was hardly a strong enough word.

  Kate bobbed a curtsey. “Your Grace, I…”

  “I don’t blame you, Miss Blakely, though your taste in friends seems questionable.”

  “Sir!” Kate’s fair skin flushed. “I must protest.” Then she seemed to think better of it.

  The bridesmaids, having found the dry-goods store wanting, had flocked back onto the street, surrounding the duke. Kate began shooing them away toward the potter’s shop.

  Olivia didn’t move. Diamond bracelets, she thought.

  If only Sir Jasper had thought to offer her a diamond bracelet—something worthwhile, instead of merely forgiving her rent—she might have been tempted… No, not even the most expensive diamond bracelet in the world could make Sir Jasper tempting.

  But the Duke of Somervale was a different proposition altogether. Diamond bracelets, and the security such jewels represented, must be merely the icing on the cake for his mistresses.

  What Olivia herself couldn’t do with the proceeds of a diamond bracelet!

  “Do you keep a chest of diamond bracelets to woo your mistresses, Your Grace?” she asked sweetly.

  “Certainly not, Lady Reyne.”

  Olivia told herself it was just as well, if only because she wouldn’t know the first thing about converting a diamond bracelet into
ready money. “What a relief it is to know that, sir.”

  His expression didn’t change, but his eyebrows went up. They were, despite what Olivia had thought yesterday in the midst of their confrontation over Charlotte’s too-still body, nice eyebrows—aristocratic, with a strong arch.

  Walk away, she told herself. But the sparkle in his midnight-blue eyes said that if she did, he would consider he had routed her.

  “A relief, I mean, to be assured you’re so sensible,” she went on. “Surely you keep rubies and sapphires and emeralds on hand as well, set in necklaces and brooches. After all, not every woman appreciates diamonds—or bracelets, for that matter.”

  For an instant he stared at her, and Olivia’s insides quaked. However great the temptation to bait him, what in heaven’s name had made her succumb to it?

  Then he threw back his head and laughed.

  He really was gorgeous, she thought. Kate was right. He could be charming and funny and delightful…

  Stop right there, Olivia told herself, and think before you dig yourself into a hole you can’t climb out of.

  But she opened her mouth again anyway. “However,” she said softly, “I happen to be one of the ones who does. Appreciate diamond bracelets, I mean. So if you’re thinking of wooing another mistress anytime soon, Your Grace, do keep me in mind.”

  Four

  And then the infuriating female smiled at him and walked away.

  So Lady Reyne was the kind of woman who appreciated diamond bracelets! She didn’t look it, Simon thought. There wasn’t a drop of ornamentation anywhere around her today, and while her gown was more attractive than the bag she’d been wearing yesterday in her garden, that was saying very little. Her dress was no indication that the woman had expensive tastes. Its style was at least three years out of date, as was the bonnet that perched saucily on her glossy dark curls.

  The gown was also the style of a younger woman. Not that Lady Reyne was exactly in her dotage, but pale pink muslin was more appropriate for a debutante. However, no mere debutante would be capable of flinging forth a lure like the one she had just dangled before him.

  So Lady Reyne was in the mood for dalliance, eh? And what made her think all she had to do was snap her fingers to snag the Duke of Somervale? He wanted to laugh at the idea that she believed she could attract him. He’d seldom met a woman who was less to his natural taste.

  His gaze followed her down the street, just as a gentle breeze flitted by and pasted the thin muslin to her figure. Perhaps she might have a few more charms than he’d suspected. Though she was hardly voluptuous, she also wasn’t the straight, hard-edged stick he’d imagined. And just as the glimpse of her ankle yesterday had made him want to look further and longer and higher, the curve of her leg and the gentle sway of her hips under the lightweight fabric, so fleetingly revealed by the helpful breeze, fed his curiosity. Her derriere appeared to be exactly the right size for a man’s hand—his hand—to cup. He wondered how she would feel under him…

  He shook his head. Perhaps the heat, or the oppressive atmosphere produced by being pursued by so many nubile females, was turning his brain. His gaze had only lighted on Lady Reyne because she’d flung out a challenge, not because he was attracted to her.

  Daphne was whimpering something about the long walk and how one of her bridesmaids had worn a blister on her toe. “You will drive us all home, Simon, won’t you? We can squeeze together in your curricle.”

  The Duke of Somervale’s hackney service, he thought absently. Did Daphne seriously believe he couldn’t see through the excuse? He wondered if they’d draw straws to see which ones would end up pressed most closely against him.

  Like a rowboat drifting down a gently flowing stream, his attention slid away from his sister and back to Lady Reyne. If you’re thinking of wooing another mistress… Clever of her to turn the subject, to distract his attention from his accusation that she’d insulted him. It would serve her right if he took up her invitation and made her think he was seriously considering her offer. He would enjoy watching her stammer and stumble around.

  Unless she’d really meant it. And in that case, maybe he’d just enjoy her—for if she was as saucy in bed as she was in the street…

  “Philippa’s ankle hurts,” Daphne went on. “And it’s too warm to walk all the way.”

  Yes, the afternoon was definitely warm. Simon sympathized with the stray dog that lay panting in the shade of the dry-goods shop, his tongue hanging almost to the dirt. He understood exactly how the animal felt. Odd, though, for Simon hadn’t felt hot until Lady Reyne had started talking about diamond bracelets…

  For the last time, he tugged his attention away from the figure swaying seductively down the street—Lady Reyne was going out of sight anyway—and back to Daphne.

  “There are seven of you,” he said calmly. “I would have to make several trips.”

  Daphne nodded. “It wouldn’t take long. It’s only a mile.” A blush rose in her cheeks. “I mean…”

  “It’s a little over a mile by road. The shortcut path is barely half that—just a short walk, after all. I think you’re caught in your own trap there, Daphne, since you could all walk home in less time than I could ferry you. Nevertheless, as a gentleman I shall provide transport for the ladies who wish to ride.”

  She smiled. “You are the best of brothers, Simon!”

  “The innkeeper owns a big, old carriage that should suffice to hold you all at once—if he can clear out the vermin in a timely fashion.”

  And once I have the young ladies settled, he thought, I may have some additional business to transact for myself—with a slightly older lady.

  ***

  When faced with the threat of sharing a carriage with mice, the bridesmaids decided to walk after all. Kate noted that Philippa’s problematic ankle seemed to miraculously heal, as did Emily’s blistered toe. And no one complained about the heat anymore. They did, however, walk so slowly and listlessly that Kate thought they would never get out of the village, much less all the way back to Halstead.

  “Perhaps you don’t wish to sit down to dinner with the duke?” she asked finally. “Because at this rate, you’ll be lucky to arrive in time for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “You’re very dull, Kate,” Lady Daphne complained. “I can’t think why Mama hired you. We do not need a chaperone, for we are perfectly able to look after each other. Perhaps she felt pity for your situation. With no home and not a suitor in sight…”

  A suitor. For a few minutes, Kate had forgotten about Mr. Blakely and his offer. All she had to do was say the word, and she would have a home, a husband, a place in the world. Even Lady Daphne couldn’t turn up her nose once Kate was betrothed. And she would no longer have to listen to the condescending chatter of a group of ill-mannered and arrogant girls.

  They’re not entirely bad, Kate told herself. Daphne was the worst, but then she always had been; the rest must be particularly daring because they were off the rein for the first time.

  Kate strolled along, lost in reflection. If she accepted Mr. Blakely’s offer, she would be a person to be respected. Of course, as the vicar’s wife she would still have to treat people like the Duke of Somervale with the utmost tact and diplomacy. But she could have pointed out—with utmost tact and diplomacy, of course—that the duke was being completely irrational to accuse Olivia of insulting him. In fact, as a moral leader she would have been responsible for doing so.

  And then there were purely practical matters. She would not have to rely on the duchess for a recommendation or scramble to obtain introductions to people who might hire her. She would not depend for her living on pleasing an employer day after day. She would not risk losing her place or her home by speaking up. She would no longer be a drain on Olivia; instead, she could help her friend in small but significant ways.

  And she would be able to look ahead with confidence at the future—right here in this familiar village, among these familiar people, and in the same familiar house. The
re was something to be said for knowing exactly where one’s destiny lay. Steadham village might feel stifling at times, but it was comforting as well.

  She walked on, musing about the things she’d like to do when she was truly the mistress of the vicarage. She’d always disliked the pictures in the dining room; now she could change them. For her bedroom, she could choose new bed hangings and draperies…

  Then she realized the sunny room at the back of the vicarage, overlooking the garden, wouldn’t be her bedroom anymore. As the wife of the vicar, she would move into the principal bedroom—and share it with her husband. She would sleep with Mr. Blakely in the same bed where she herself had been born, and someday she would give birth there to her own children…

  Her thoughts skittered away from the idea. She told herself it was because that room still seemed to belong to her parents.

  Just as they were about to leave the road outside the village for the shortcut path across the fields, Kate heard hoofbeats and carriage wheels behind them. The young ladies suddenly perked up and looked around.

  The curricle that approached would have been glossy black except for the dust of the road. Perched high on the seat was not the duke, as the bridesmaids had obviously expected, but two people—a handsome man wearing a curly-brimmed hat and a lady wrapped, despite the heat, in a lightweight blue cloak that billowed in the gently stirring air. As the carriage slowed, something about the lady’s profile drew Kate’s attention.

  In utter astonishment, Kate said, “Penny?”

  The lady’s face glowed. “Kate! I had no idea you would be in the neighborhood! Is your home near Halstead? Oh, my dear—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were in mourning. What a pity we’ve lost touch. Perhaps we’ll have an opportunity to catch up now.”

  Kate couldn’t remember exactly how much time had passed since she’d heard from Penny Weiss, but Penny’s life must have changed considerably since their last exchange of letters. A lady might ride in an open carriage for a short distance with any gentleman. But this was obviously no casual drive, and since Penny had no brothers or cousins whom she could accompany without risking her reputation, the man driving the curricle had to be her husband.