The Wedding Affair

by Leigh Michaels

  “Then you admit you chose this location because she would be likely to see!”

  “Nothing of the sort.” He offered his arm, and Olivia reluctantly let him guide her into the garden. “I must remind you that you agreed to take part in this performance.”

  “For myself, yes. But I never agreed to let my daughter play a part in your hoax. She’s only a baby. She doesn’t understand that what you do and say means nothing.”

  “Olivia, it’s not as if I’ve hurt her in any way. Charlotte’s already told you how much fun she had. She even asked if she could ride again tomorrow.”

  “But she can’t,” Olivia said, “because tomorrow is the wedding, and you—along with everyone else on the estate—will be far too busy for riding lessons. By the day after, we will be at home in the cottage once more, with no ponies and no indulgent dukes to walk alongside.”

  She saw the very instant he understood why she was objecting, for his jaw tightened. Of course, she thought. His Arrogance doesn’t like to have anyone point out the error of his ways!

  She went on a little more gently, “When the excitement is over, Charlotte will not understand why her great friend the duke doesn’t come around any more. Please don’t pay such attentions to her. Don’t make things harder for her.”

  “Do you want me to ignore her altogether or just stop being polite to her?”

  “I want you to stop petting and spoiling her and treating her like a princess! And stop encouraging your mother to do so. She’s already ordered the dressmakers to create an entire wardrobe for Charlotte.”

  “That was none of my doing,” the duke protested.

  “Not directly, perhaps, but the duchess would never have done such a thing if she hadn’t believed your intention is to make Charlotte a part of the family.”

  “That’s good news. The fact she’s convinced, I mean.”

  Olivia gave a furious little shriek.

  “All right,” the duke said. “No more riding lessons.”

  “An easy enough promise, since there will be no time for them.” She considered. “No more visits to the nursery, either. And no seeking Charlotte out if she happens to be playing within sight of the duchess. In fact, don’t seek her out at all.”

  “Are you finished?”

  She didn’t trust his mild tone of voice. “If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  They walked on in silence, approaching the arched footbridge over the brook just as an arrow zinged from a bridesmaid’s bow, ricocheted off the edge of the target, and sent Viscount Chadwick scurrying for cover.

  The duke let out a low whistle. “I thought Chadwick had more sense.”

  “One more thing,” Olivia said suddenly. “No gifts sent upstairs in your name—in fact, no gifts at all.”

  “No more gifts,” the duke agreed.

  Olivia stopped walking. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing big, just a riding crop that isn’t even new. I found it in the tack room, a small one that probably belonged to Daphne. I sent it up to the nursery so Charlotte can use it on the hobbyhorse for practice.”

  Olivia shook her head. “How will I ever explain to my daughter, as she’s living in a cottage, why she has such strong memories of an enormous house and a nursery with servants and a duke teaching her to ride a pony?”

  His voice grew suddenly stern. “You’ll tell her she was a guest at a house party, Lady Reyne. No more, no less. As are you, in case you need the reminder.”

  Fifteen

  Olivia stared at him as if he’d stolen the last rays of sunshine from the world, and suddenly Simon realized how very much she and her daughter looked alike. The perfect oval of the face, the soft curve of eyebrow, the slender neck and well-shaped head—all were identical.

  And as for the look of reproach in the huge hazel eyes speckled with gold, Charlotte had looked at him in precisely the same way when he had told her it was time for her lesson to end.

  Olivia’s voice was low and sweet. “How kind of Your Grace to make my position clear, in case I had forgotten myself.”

  “Olivia. I didn’t mean—”

  “A moment ago you called me by my title. I suggest you remember it in future. Thank you for your escort, sir.” As they reached the end of the arched footbridge, she released his arm and, without a backward glance, went to join Kate Blakely and Andrew Carlisle as they stood watching the archery match.

  Simon paused at the end of the footbridge, feeling foolish and very much at loose ends. Suddenly becoming aware that Lady Stone was watching him from her absurdly fancy chair on the little knoll, he tried not to catch her eye, but to no avail. She raised a hand to summon him, and he smothered a curse and joined her and the tedious colonel.

  “Nice stickpin, Somervale,” Lady Stone said. “I have always had a weakness for gentlemen who can wear jewels without looking like fops.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Her gaze drifted off to rest on Olivia. “Of course, you should take better care of your playthings. You seem to be growing careless.”

  What in the world was the harridan talking about? The stickpin, perhaps; had she seen it drop in the drawing room? Or was she—somehow—referring to Olivia?

  Guilt lent a sharp edge to Simon’s voice. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

  “Oh, no—of course you don’t.” Lady Stone gave a little cackle. “You told your mama you met Lady Reyne in London and danced at a ball with her.”

  “What of it, ma’am?”

  “Lady Reyne’s only Season was four years ago… the same winter you spent in Greece, as I recall.”

  There was no way out except through, Simon told himself. “Make of it what you wish.”

  “Oh, I shall. I wonder whether it will be more amusing to tell the duchess or not to tell her. Perhaps you will advise me on that question, Somervale.” She shifted in her chair. “Colonel, a guinea says the next three shots all miss the center circle.”

  “Only a guinea? What a miser you are, Lucinda.”

  “I’ll take your bet, Lady Stone,” Simon said suddenly. “I say at least one will hit the mark. Only let’s make it more interesting. Ten guineas?”

  Lady Stone looked down her nose at him. “Twenty, and I’m in.”

  “Done.” After all, Simon thought, what was a little genteel blackmail between friends?

  The colonel shook his head sadly, but he didn’t comment.

  Neither of the next two shots hit the center of the target—exactly as Simon had expected. One of them stuck feebly off to the side; the other struck at an angle and slid down the surface into the grass.

  However, the next archer to pick up a bow was his sister, and as Daphne pulled her bowstring taut, Simon began to have second thoughts. Deliberately losing a bet was one thing—a far more tactful way to buy silence than simply handing over a bribe. But if Daphne loosed an arrow straight into the target and Lady Stone ended up owing him twenty guineas instead of pocketing a payment as he’d intended…

  Slowly and carefully, Daphne sighted along her arrow. Just as she released her grip, one of the bridesmaids let out a squeal and pointed at something behind Simon.

  Daphne’s arrow missed the target altogether.

  Simon released a relieved breath and turned to see what all the excitement was about. Daphne’s betrothed was walking across the bridge, and a moment later Daphne brushed past Simon and flung herself against the man who tomorrow would become her husband.

  “Good to see you, Harcourt,” Simon said. “Excellent timing.”

  Lady Stone’s face went all wrinkly. Simon thought she must be smiling. “I’ll come to collect before luncheon. It’s been nice doing business with you, Somervale.”

  ***

  The head groom helped Kate up into her saddle, frowning as the fresh and frisky mare danced across the stable yard. Kate ignored his concern, for she was fully occupied.

  Just as she thought she had the mare settled, Andrew Carlisle rode in. He pa
used to close the gate and then drew his gelding to one side and sat easily in the saddle, watching. “Perhaps a calmer horse,” he said to the head groom.

  The groom nodded. “As you wish, sir.”

  “Nonsense,” Kate said. “She’s just excited about going out. Once we’re away from the yard, she’ll be fine.”

  “If she doesn’t run off with you,” the groom muttered. “She’s a well-named one, Fancy is. Wait here a minute, miss, till I get you a different mount.”

  Kate would have argued, but the groom was already gone. She turned on Andrew instead. “Since when do you give orders in the duke’s stables?”

  “When you don’t use common sense. Where are you going, anyway?”

  “Just to the village.” Kate nudged the mare toward the gate. “And I’m late, so I’m not waiting for another mount.”

  “Then if you insist on riding a streak of lightning, I shall accompany you.”

  “No need. I’m perfectly safe.”

  He smiled. “I recall an errand I forgot to carry out, so I must go back anyway.”

  Kate gave up. It was only a mile to the village—not far enough to truly relax and enjoy being outside even if she was alone.

  “What takes you to the village on such a warm afternoon?” he asked as they reached the long avenue lined with lime trees.

  “I’m to arrange the flowers for the wedding tomorrow. What about you? What errand is it that you forgot to complete?”

  He stumbled a little and looked a bit ashamed.

  “Next time,” Kate recommended, “think of a story ahead of time. Perhaps one of the bridesmaids asked you to bring her ribbons for the ball.”

  “That’s it exactly!”

  She shook her head. “Then you would not have forgotten the commission—for by now you must have discovered which of them is the greatest heiress.”

  “I’m still relying on you to tell me which one I should court.”

  The idea pinched a little somehow. Had she asked because she hoped he would laugh and tell her that he had given up the notion? “Then you’d best make other plans.”

  “And exactly why will you not advise me which of those girls I should choose as a wife?”

  It’s far better to ignore him, Kate. “If you don’t marry an heiress, what will you do? Go back to Lord Winchester? Or look for another patron to fund your travels?”

  “Not immediately. I have some money put aside, and one can live quite cheaply in Italy, I understand.”

  Italy. Sunshine and villas and canals and vineyards and brilliant blue seas and dusty ruins… All places she would never see. “Not America?”

  “Does that sound more inviting to you? What is your grand plan for after the wedding, Kate? Will you help the colonel with his memoirs? Take a position with one of the bridesmaid’s families? Or was I wrong and you’re still thinking of marrying the vicar?”

  The matter-of-fact summary of her prospects shot gloom through Kate’s veins, but she wasn’t about to admit it to Andrew, who didn’t seem in the least concerned which option she chose. “I might become a housekeeper,” she said lightly. “Though not for a family with eligible daughters. Have you noticed that Mrs. Greeley’s hair is much whiter now than earlier in the week?”

  When the village came into sight, Kate was startled by how quickly the ride had passed.

  Olivia’s cottage looked almost like a painting, still and quiet in the afternoon heat. As they passed, Kate noticed a gentleman standing on the front step, hand raised as if to knock. She drew up her horse in the road by the garden gate and called, “Sir Jasper, Lady Reyne is not at home. May I assist you?”

  Sir Jasper Folsom turned. “Not unless she has entrusted you with the rent payment that is due in two days.” His eyes narrowed. “But perhaps you were unaware Lady Reyne could not pay the entire sum due last month? She asked me to wait to collect the rest.”

  “Oh, no,” Kate breathed. Suddenly it all made a dreadful kind of sense. Olivia’s assurances that the duke was indeed not courting her and that she knew what she was doing. The high color in her face this morning, and the fact she had been on the edge of tears. Even the wandering stickpin fit in somehow, Kate was certain. “I shall tell Lady Reyne you inquired after her.”

  “Remind her that I’m waiting to see whether her fancy friends pay her debts.”

  Andrew said softly, “Want me to knock out a few of his teeth? It would be a pleasure, just on general principles.”

  “Not today,” Kate managed to say.

  The church was silent and, to Kate’s relief, empty. The windows stood open to the perfect summer afternoon, and the front doors were propped wide. Near a table set up under the balcony stood big buckets of roses and lilies, ready to trim and arrange.

  “There are enough blooms here to decorate three churches,” Andrew said. “At least, if you’re going to leave any room at all for people.” He tugged a rose from the bucket and snapped the stem between his fingers.

  His hands were not those of a gentleman, Kate thought. They had been once, and they were still well-shaped, with long, strong fingers. But now there were small scars and the mark of physical work done without gloves. His skin was not rough, but it had been used, not pampered as many gentlemen did. She didn’t recall the slightest discomfort when he had touched her the previous night, only a sort of heightened tension when his fingers had brushed the soft skin at the nape of her neck…

  Enough, she told herself.

  He dried the stem on his coat sleeve and tucked the rose into the smooth braid above Kate’s left ear. He was so close that she could smell his shaving soap…

  “I’ll have plenty of blooms to choose from.” She didn’t even sound like herself. “Will you help me to get the vases before you go about your errand?”

  “My errand is to take the horses to the coaching inn while I drink a tankard of ale in the taproom and wait for you to finish. Unless you would like me to buy ribbons for you, for the ball?”

  Kate’s senses thrummed at the idea. “No, for the shop here has little to choose from.”

  “Then a tankard of ale it must be. Shall I come back in an hour?” He carried the silver vases she chose to the worktable and lounged beside it, watching as she selected tall-stemmed lilies to form the basic lines of the arrangement. “It must be very difficult for you to see Mr. Blakely here instead of your father.”

  “I will grow used to the change. You need not stay, Mr. Carlisle.”

  “Are you anxious to be rid of me so you can be alone with the vicar?”

  “He’s here?” Kate jerked around, slopping water across the table.

  Andrew laughed. “That’s what I thought.” He strolled off. She watched as he untied the reins from the gate and led the horses down the street toward the coaching inn.

  Kate stopped mooning about, mopped up the mess she’d made, and went back to her work. With an effort, she put Andrew out of her mind to think instead about Olivia, Sir Jasper, and the overdue rent.

  Kate couldn’t help but feel at least partly to blame for the situation Olivia was facing. The budget in the little cottage had been very tight, and Kate had done everything she could to help—but it hadn’t been enough.

  She gave a final tug to a pink rose that insisted on facing the wrong way and carried the first vase up the main aisle to set it in place, pausing on her way back to straighten the needlepoint kneelers and hymn books.

  Olivia had been there for Kate in her time of need, providing her with a home. Now Olivia needed help, but there was only one way Kate could think of to return the favor.

  If she were to marry the vicar…

  The sound of a masculine throat being cleared drew her attention to the back of the church, where Mr. Blakely stood just inside the door, square and stocky and entirely dressed in black. She curtseyed and walked back to her table to arrange the second vase.

  “Miss Blakely,” he said. “What a joy to see you here.”

  If marrying him is the only way to save
Olivia, Kate thought, then perhaps that is what I should do.

  Her face felt frozen, but she forced herself to smile. “It is indeed good to see you, Vicar.”

  He seemed to be startled, even nervous, as he slowly came closer. “Do I see you wearing blue? With your father not yet gone four months?”

  Kate looked down at the skirt of her new habit. “It’s such a dark shade…” She caught herself up short. He was being ridiculous. Her father would never have made such an objection to a member of his parish who could not afford to buy the trappings of mourning. “Wearing a dark blue riding habit is hardly the same as gadding about in scarlet, sir.” She wondered what he would have said about the new lavender day dress she’d tried on this morning and planned to wear for the wedding. Or the deep purple gown the duchess had provided for the ball.

  The vicar shook his head sadly. “I am growing to fear the influence the duchess has had on you, but I suppose I have no choice but to bide my silence.” He stood with his hands behind his back, studying the chiseled inscriptions and memorials on the wall.

  Kate worked quietly until the second vase matched the first. She put it into place on the altar and, returning to clear the table, took a deep breath. “When you first arrived in Steadham, sir, you were good enough to make me an offer.”

  “Yes, Miss Blakely?” His eyes brightened. “Have you an answer for me?”

  “Not as yet—but I do have a question. If I were to accept, would you be agreeable to giving a home to my friend Lady Reyne and her daughter?”

  He looked appalled. “Are you mad? You cannot expect me to take in a woman who possesses such a reputation and house her in the vicarage.”

  Kate’s heart sank. If rumor was circulating about Olivia… “What reputation are you referring to, sir? What evidence do you have?”

  He shook his head sadly. “I cannot share what was told me in confidence, and in any case I would not sully your ears with the details.”

  “She is my very good friend. I feel a responsibility toward her.”

  “That fact causes me to question my assessment of your own character, Miss Blakely, and to wonder if I may have acted too quickly in offering for you. However, I am under an obligation to your father, good Christian gentleman that he was, to see you cared for. I will stand by my decision to marry you, for withdrawing my offer would reflect on my own honor. But I must warn you that when you are my wife, the loose ways you have learned while sharing a house with Lady Reyne, and at Halstead, will no longer be tolerated.”