Wedding of the Year

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  “How would you know? You only met the man last night,” Elizabeth pointed out.

  “Because it doesn't take a long acquaintance to figure out if a gentleman is of a staid or adventurous nature,” Catherine returned quickly.

  “Well, apparently you're going to have to rethink your logic, for Lord Wykham wasn't at all what you imagined him to be.” Elizabeth smiled over her sister's astonishment.

  Bewildered, Catherine tapped her fingers against the table. “Perhaps there's more to Lord Wykham than I thought.”

  Elizabeth gave her sister a pointed look. “Perhaps?”

  Rolling her eyes, Catherine said, “Very well then. I'll admit I was too hasty in judging Lord Wykham.”

  Elizabeth moved onto the next part of her plan. “Now that we agree upon that point, we need to shift our focus back onto our problem. While Lord Wykham has generously agreed to help us, that only gains us some time. We still need to concentrate on helping you find the perfect husband.”

  “The perfect gentleman for me is someone witty, entertaining, and unfailingly charming.”

  Catherine's immediate response made Elizabeth smile. “You don't worry about trivialities like loyalty, steadfastness, or common sense, then.”

  “And you've just described a deadly dull fellow,” Catherine stated as she nibbled at a scone.

  Elizabeth's amusement died. “You really need to be more practical, Cat. Many spendthrifts are enjoyable to spend time with, but hardly marriage material.”

  Dusting off her fingers, Catherine rolled her eyes. “True, but then the reverse is true as well; not all gentlemen are dull and boring.” She smiled brilliantly at Elizabeth. “What we need to do is find someone who is both steadfast and entertaining.”

  “That's quite a tall order, Cat,” Elizabeth pointed out.

  Her smile shifted into a full-fledged grin. “Who ever said finding the perfect husband would be easy?”

  “This affair is deadly dull, isn't it?” Catherine whispered behind her fan.

  Elizabeth glanced around the room. “I've certainly been to more lively gatherings. I've still no idea why Papa insisted we attend.”

  Catherine perked up when she saw Lord Vernon before her. Unfortunately, his brother was standing alongside him. “Good evening, Lord Vernon,” she said, offering her hand.

  “It is a good evening indeed, now that I have been accorded the pleasure of seeing you, Lady Catherine.” Bowing over her hand, he straightened and repeated the gesture with Elizabeth. “And you as well, my lady.”

  Catherine noted with interest that her sister tugged her hand away quickly. Looking at Elizabeth's flushed features, Catherine grew more intrigued by her sister's response to Lord Vernon. She continued to watch Elizabeth as she greeted Lord Wykham. This time, Elizabeth's features remained cool and polite, as if the marquess didn't affect her one way or the other.

  Now that she knew about Elizabeth's lack of interest in the marquess, her plans of matchmaking shifted in an instant. Tilting her head to the side, Catherine wondered if Lord Vernon would be perfect for Elizabeth. Perhaps he irritated her sister now, but at least he managed to evoke a true, passionate response from her.

  It might be interesting to push the two of them together and see what happened . . . which meant getting the boring Lord Wykham out of the way.

  “My lord,” she began, pasting a smile upon her face, “it is wonderful to see you again.”

  Lord Wykham bent stiffly over her hand, not even bothering to press a kiss upon the back of her gloved fingers. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  The polite return made Catherine want to roll her eyes. Instead of the charming repartee his brother managed, the marquess seemed only able to give her practiced responses. Forcing herself to remember her main objective in addressing Lord Wykham, Catherine kept her smile firmly in place. “I could very well argue that point, my lord, but I shall refrain.”

  His brows shifted together slightly, as if she'd confused him with her reply.

  Sighing softly, Catherine decided to simply work toward leaving Elizabeth alone with Lord Vernon. “I find myself a bit parched,” she murmured, pressing a hand to her throat.

  Lord Wykham nodded once. “Most understandable, as it is rather warm in here.”

  Apparently the marquess wasn't one to pick up on subtleties. “Quite so. I would dearly love a glass of punch.”

  “Punch? I thought Lady Andersen preferred to serve lemonade.”

  Astounded by his answer, she could only gape at him for a moment. Lord, was the man a buffoon as well as a dullard? Practically gritting her teeth, Catherine again forced another laugh. “I can see that you prefer to jest with me,” she said smoothly. “But seriously, my lord, I simply must have a refreshment of some sort if I wish to avoid fainting.” Deciding it was time to be blunt, she asked, “Would you escort me into the parlor to fetch some refreshments?”

  “Certainly, my lady.” Offering his arm, he bid his farewells to Lord Vernon and Elizabeth. Victory soared through Catherine as she allowed the marquess to lead her away. She only hoped Elizabeth appreciated her sacrifice, Catherine thought, as she engaged Lord Wykham in conversation.

  “I never understood the appeal of the strong, silent type, my lord,” she began flirtatiously, “but you're beginning to help me understand.”

  Watching her sister walk away, Elizabeth was too stunned by Catherine's behavior to notice Lord Vernon move to stand at her side. My goodness, for having proclaimed Lord Wykham a dullard, Catherine certainly seemed interested in spending time in his company. But why? Elizabeth couldn't understand the reason behind her sister's unexpected actions. After all, she'd told Catherine that Lord Wykham was going to show interest in her in order to give Catherine time to find her perfect mate. Why then did her sister go off with him?

  “This is a surprising turn of events.”

  Lord Vernon's remark brought Elizabeth from her thoughts. “Indeed,” she agreed as she shifted away from him.

  “A pleasant surprise, though.” His gaze sharpened. “I think your sister suits my brother quite well.”

  “Do you?” Elizabeth considered the match for a moment. Had Catherine decided to give Lord Wykham a second chance because she realized she'd judged him too quickly? Perhaps that was the reason behind her behavior.

  “I do, indeed. Your sister has the sort of engaging personality that will help my brother to put aside his rigid beliefs.” He grinned at Elizabeth. “John can often be most trying in his arrogance.”

  Perhaps Lord Vernon was right and their siblings would be perfect for one another. What then of her grand plan to accept Lord Wykham's assistance in posing as her suitor? How could he be both her suitor and court Catherine at the same time? The whole mess was becoming so jumbled.

  Besides, it also meant that her sister was away from Lord Vernon, which was a good thing, for she'd forgotten to inform Catherine of his disreputable past.

  “Are you woolgathering or did I offend you with my remark about John's arrogance?”

  Returning her thoughts to the present, Elizabeth flicked open her fan and gave Lord Vernon a pointed stare. “I was merely thinking that the trait must run in the family.”

  Lord Vernon laughed aloud. “I say, Lady Elizabeth, I do find your tartness refreshing. Shrewish as well, but refreshing, nonetheless.”

  “Shrewish, is it? From you, Lord Vernon, I shall consider that a compliment.” She narrowed her eyes. “ Undoubtedly you prefer the simpering misses with their inane conversation and dull twitterings.”

  “Then why do I seem to find myself in your company so often these past few days?”

  “I'm uncertain,” she replied. “Perhaps you are finally demonstrating a bit of good taste.”

  “Along with a healthy dose of tolerance, I suppose.”

  “Why don't you leave then, if you find me so odious?”

  “I wonder that myself.” His grin was devilishly appealing. “I find myself oddly entertained by your waspish comments. Luckily
for me, when it comes to being tolerant, I happen to be close to sainted.”

  Laughter escaped her before she could hold it back. “You? Sainted? From our brief acquaintance, Lord Vernon, I must admit that I find that difficult to believe.”

  “You wound me.”

  She tapped her fan against her cheek. “Come now, my lord. I highly doubt a few words could cause harm to . . . someone of your reputation.”

  “Someone of my reputation?” Lord Vernon asked, a grin splitting his features. “Do you mean someone arrogant? Or do you consider me the worst of rakes once again? I fear the subtlety of your insult escapes me.”

  Lifting her chin, Elizabeth boldly met his gaze. “I shall leave it to you to decide upon the proper description, for I've been assured by the matrons that either one will suit.”

  Lord Vernon crossed his arms and stared at her for a long moment.

  “What are you staring at?” Elizabeth finally asked, fighting the urge to squirm under his gaze.

  “A fool.” His features hardened as he leaned closer. “Of all people, I would think that you'd understand how gossips exaggerate everything. They say that you disdain conversation, that you are cold and unpleasant, and that you hold yourself above everyone.”

  She shook beneath his heated accusation.

  “You can't deny that there are elements of the truth in that harsh bit of gossip any more than I can deny there's truth in the gossip you heard about me,” he rasped, his gaze cold and forbidding. “Still, I was willing to ignore the gossip, to take you on your actions rather than your reputation, and I thought you would do the same.” He shook his head. “I was wrong. Perhaps I'm the fool instead of you.”

  His words shamed her. “No, I'm the foolish one,” she admitted quietly. “When you danced with me, I felt as if you understood me, as if you understood about being lonely in a crowd. But when Lady Sefton told me of your reputation, and how you always seemed to know exactly what to say to a lady to disarm her, I thought that you'd figured out what to say to make me soften toward you and you were simply toying with me.”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “I wasn't toying with you at all. I do understand all about being lonely.”

  Staring at him, Elizabeth realized she was afraid to believe him, afraid that he was just telling her what she wanted to hear, afraid that she would trust him only to be disappointed later. But what if he was telling the truth? What if he did understand, and she'd pushed away the only other person who could empathize with how she felt? Her fear of that mistake was greater than her fear of believing him.

  Taking her courage in hand, she offered him a smile. “Let's begin again,” she said simply. “I'm Elizabeth Everley.”

  Warmth flooded his features as he clasped her hand within his. “Richard Vernon.”

  The horde of people milling about seemed to fade into the background as she gazed into Richard's eyes, lost within the blue depths.

  “Good evening, Vernon. Haven't seen you about lately.”

  The interruption jarred them from the magic of the moment. Swiftly, Elizabeth drew her hand back. She blinked in surprise as Richard's expression hardened into a polite mask. “Morrow.”

  Curious over Richard's reaction, she gave the gentleman a second look. With styled blond hair, dapper manner of dress, and a bored glaze in his pale, blue eyes, the gentleman appeared to be a rake of the first water.

  “Will you introduce me to your lovely companion, Vernon?” the man asked smoothly.

  For a moment, Elizabeth thought Richard would refuse the request, but finally he said, “Lady Elizabeth Everley, might I present Anthony Cole, Viscount Morrow?”

  After only the briefest hesitation, Elizabeth offered Lord Morrow her hand. As his fingers curled about hers, she was oddly relieved that she wore gloves.

  “An honor, my lady,” Lord Morrow murmured as he straightened.

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord,” she returned coolly, pulling her hand free.

  Lord Morrow tugged down on his vest. “So, tell me, Vernon, where have you been hiding these days?”

  “I've been busy.” The stiffness in Richard's words reminded Elizabeth of Lord Wykham's manner of speaking.

  “Too busy to visit your old haunts, eh?” He glanced over at Elizabeth. “Still, if the lovely Lady Elizabeth is the reason you've been hiding yourself away, then I'd completely understand your absence. She is a pretty bit indeed.”

  Richard drew back his shoulders. “That is hardly the remark a gentleman makes in the presence of a lady, sir.”

  If Richard hadn't been so serious, Elizabeth would have burst out laughing at his rigid manner. Imagine, the rule-bending young lord commenting on Lord Morrow's lack of gentlemanly graces.

  “Lord, aren't you the uppity one now?” sneered Lord Morrow.

  A look of utter disgust twisted Richard's features, before he recovered his poise. “Excuse us, Morrow, but I claimed this dance with Lady Elizabeth.”

  Before Elizabeth could even comment, Richard curled his hand beneath her elbow and steered her toward the dance floor. As they took their positions, he murmured, “I apologize for subjecting you to that unpleasant scene.”

  Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows. “I don't believe you did. After all, Lord Morrow approached you, leaving you little choice but to speak with him.”

  “That's true enough,” Richard conceded with a terse nod. “Though I suppose I could have walked away.”

  “And left me alone with him?” Elizabeth smiled softly. “You would never abandon a lady to suffer Lord Morrow's company alone.”

  “So you've gained a measure of trust in me?” he asked quietly.

  Elizabeth leveled a measured look at Richard. “Not as of yet, but I've decided to give you the chance to earn my trust.”

  His laughter burst from him, a vibrant sound that drew the attention of the other dancers. “Then I see I shall have to do my best to never disappoint you, my lady.”

  “I believe you're up to the challenge.”

  His grin widened. “I most certainly am. Would you like to shock everyone present and waltz with me?” he whispered to her.

  “You are utterly incorrigible, Richard,” she retorted with a smile.

  “Ah, but you're addressing me as Richard now, so that leads me to believe you are attracted to incorrigible men.” He twirled her about in a wide circle. “Luckily for me, that sort of behavior comes easily.”

  Clutching his shoulder, Elizabeth spun around the dance floor with him. Lord, she didn't want to be so completely charmed by Richard, but she was.

  How she was.

  6

  Left with no choice, John followed Lady Catherine out into the garden. “This really isn't proper, Lady Catherine.”

  “Oh, for Heaven's sake, Lord Wykham. I promise to refrain from offending your person.”

  He couldn't help but wince at the sarcasm in her response. “I don't mean to sound priggish, but . . .”

  Lady Catherine's loud sniff told him all too clearly that she did indeed find him priggish. Well, even if she didn't possess the good sense to realize he was merely being sensible, he knew it was his gentlemanly duty to point out how this innocent turn on the veranda could jeopardize her reputation.

  “Lady Catherine,” he began in the stern tone he usually saved for Richard, “I must insist that we return to the ballroom, as it is most unseemly to be alone with you. While the reasons behind this demand seem to have escaped you, I assure you, my lady, that they are quite valid.”

  Lady Catherine's sigh spoke volumes. “I appreciate that you are concerned with my welfare, my lord, but I am not worried about anyone's reaction if we are discovered. After all, it is not as if we are in a torrid embrace.”

  John grew flushed at the mere thought of holding this unique creature in his arms. “Indeed not.”

  At his reply, Lady Catherine shrugged lightly. “ Exactly. So, if anyone wanders by, we can simply tell them that I was feeling a bit faint and you escorted me out
side for a breath of fresh air.”

  “Very well, but only for a little while. If we're supposed to be taking a breath of fresh air, that excuse only justifies a short absence.”

  “Ahhh, yes, most practical of you, my lord. But how can you be practical on a night such as this?” Spreading her arms wide, Lady Catherine spun around twice. Coming to a stop, she rested her hands against the balustrade and gazed up into the night sky. “This is a magical night. I can feel it. It's a night meant for love, stolen kisses, and passionate vows of unending devotion.” She gave him a wry smile. “Yet all you can think of is what people might say.”

  John stiffened as her words hit their mark. “You needn't mock me.”

  Turning around, she leaned back against the stone balustrade. “I'm not mocking you, Lord Wykham. If anything, I feel rather sorry for you.”

  “What?” He was the Marquess of Wykham, a reliable, wealthy fellow who garnered respect from the highest nobles in the land . . . and this chit of a girl felt sorry for him! How preposterous.

  “If you can't see the magic in this night, you must not see it at all.” She shook her head. “Your life must be pitifully dull and boring.”

  “My life is neither dull nor boring.”

  He could tell by her expression that she didn't believe him. “Very well, then. Tell me one thing you've done this past week that has been spontaneous.”

  “I . . . well, I . . .” For the life of him, John couldn't come up with a single thing he'd done that hadn't been planned. Finally, he remembered calling upon Richard. “I paid an unscheduled visit to my brother,” he said triumphantly.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured with a sarcastic lilt in her voice. “One whole visit with your brother. How adventurous of you.”

  John drew back his shoulders even further. “My life suits me perfectly.”

  “I know . . . which is what makes it all the worse.” She released another deep sigh. “Have you ever done something bold, something unexpected, something totally spontaneous?”

  “Of course,” he retorted firmly, despite the fact that he couldn't think of even one time to support that assertion.