Wedding of the Year

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  Shaken, he sank down into his usual chair. “Please, Margaret,” he whispered, dropping his head onto his hands. “I need help sorting out this mess with our daughters.”

  His heart sunk even further when the room remained silent. Douglas buried his face into his hands. How would he be able to go on?

  A knock on his door broke through his dark thoughts. Lifting his head, he bade the person to enter. Expecting one of his daughters, Douglas was surprised when his butler entered. “Pardon the intrusion, my lord, but you have a caller.”

  “At this late hour?” Douglas asked in surprise. Rising, he retrieved the card from his butler's tray. Mary Vernon, Marchioness of Wykham.

  “I tried to send her away, but she insisted upon . . .”

  “It's quite all right,” Douglas said immediately. “I shall see the lady.”

  Ignoring his butler's shock, Douglas strode toward the front parlor. The minute he stepped into the room, Lady Wykham spun to face him.

  “Lord Shipham,” she murmured, relief filling her voice. “I wasn't certain if you would see me at this hour. I'm dreadfully sorry to be calling upon you so late, but it is an urgent matter.”

  “Don't concern yourself with the hour.” He gestured for her to take a seat. “Now what can I do for you, my lady?” he asked as he settled into the chair opposite Lady Wykham.

  Wringing her hands together, Lady Wykham glanced away. “Did you hear about the events this evening?”

  “Between our children?” At her nod, he replied, “Yes, I did.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked urgently, leaning forward in her chair.

  Douglas began to drum his fingers upon the arm of his chair. “I was thinking about this matter as well. I find myself uncertain if I should begin to intervene or if I should allow fate to guide them.”

  “This situation has gotten too precarious, my lord,” she stated emphatically. “We must do something! This evening all anyone spoke about was our children. If we aren't careful, this entire affair will become a mockery. People speak of my sons as if they're rakes, and they are beginning to question the moral character of your daughters.”

  Oh, lord, the situation was more dire than he'd realized. Douglas turned the problem over in his head, fervently wishing he could speak with Margaret about the matter. She would know what to do about this mess.

  But she wasn't here.

  No, it was up to him to muddle his way through and protect his daughters. He glanced at Lady Wykham, who gazed at him with such a hopeful expression, he knew he couldn't bear to let her down either. Reaching deep inside, Douglas drew a deep, calming breath and focused on the issue. “I believe what we need to do is decide which daughter should marry which son and see that it happens,” he said decisively. “If we become matchmakers of a sort, we can see that the proper two stay together instead of this back-and-forth nonsense.”

  Lady Wykham straightened in her chair. “I do believe that might work,” she agreed in a hopeful tone. “It is obvious that our children aren't able to decide for themselves, so, as parents, it's our duty to choose for them, isn't it?”

  “Indeed,” Douglas agreed readily, feeling confident in his decision. “Shall we match your eldest with my eldest?”

  Pausing for a moment, Lady Wykham finally nodded her head. “Perhaps that might be best.”

  “Very well, then. We shall begin to arrange for the marquess to spend time with my Elizabeth and Lord Vernon to be with my Catherine.”

  A worried frown tilted Lady Wykham's lips downward. “Are we interfering too much?”

  “Not at all,” Douglas replied. Though he felt uneasy about the decision, it was obvious that his daughters needed guidance. If he were to inspire confidence in everyone involved, he needed to first convince the marchioness that he didn't have a doubt in the world. “Now what we need is a plan.” He considered their options for a moment. “Tomorrow I shall send a note around to the marquess, asking him to call upon me at a specific time. In addition, I shall invite Elizabeth to join me for a ride shortly after your son is due to arrive. When Elizabeth comes to find me, I shall claim I'm far too busy to accompany her, and will ask the marquess to go in my stead.”

  Lady Wykham looked at him as if he were brilliant, making him feel more useful that he'd felt in years. It was, Douglas acknowledged, a feeling he'd missed. “What a clever plan!” she exclaimed. “And how will you bring Richard and Catherine together?”

  “The exact same way . . . only an hour later.”

  Lady Wykham's nervous expression eased. “I believe this will work marvelously,” she pronounced, rising from the chair. “I knew I was right in coming to you, my lord.”

  “Thank you for your confidence,” he replied, meaning every word. “I believe everything will work out for the best.”

  “Quite true.” Lady Wykham smiled brightly. “In fact, I believe they will even thank us for our assistance.”

  Douglas nodded in agreement. “Sometimes even fate needs a helping hand.”

  12

  “Can I help you with something, Mother?” John asked as his mother strolled past the open door to his study for the third time in as many minutes.

  “Oh, no, no,” she said offhandedly.

  Closing his ledger, he rose and came out from behind his desk. “I thought you wished to speak with me.”

  His mother's eyes widened. “Why on earth would you think that?”

  “Oh, I don't know,” he murmured with a smile. “ Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that you've been milling about in this hallway for quite some time now.”

  Though his mother's cheeks grew pink, she waved off his comment. “I was merely checking to see if the maids have been doing their jobs properly.”

  The blatant lie made him smile. “Indeed.”

  As he stepped past her, she asked, “Are you going somewhere?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” he returned. “Lord Shipham sent around a note, asking me to call upon him this morning.”

  “He did?”

  The lilt in her voice set off warning chimes in his head. Had she somehow learned of his arrangement with Elizabeth to call upon the Shipham household in order to talk some sense into Catherine? Impossible. All his mother knew was that he'd received that wonderfully well-timed note from Lord Shipham. John didn't know why Catherine's father wished to see him, but he wasn't about to question his good fortune.

  As far as John was concerned, he now had a reason to call upon the Shipham household that wouldn't make Catherine suspicious. After he spoke with Lord Shipham, he would simply finagle a way to visit with Catherine and Elizabeth, so he could point out the foolishness of Catherine's grand plan.

  Confident his mother knew nothing of his ulterior motive to call upon Lord Shipham, John smiled down at her. “In his note, he indicated that it was an urgent matter.” He shrugged lightly. “Perhaps he wishes my opinion on an investment matter that is time-sensitive.”

  “That would make sense.” His mother frowned slightly as she smoothed down the edges of his cravat. “Is this what you're going to wear?”

  A laugh escaped John. “Yes, of course.”

  Pressing her lips together for a moment, his mother studied his attire. “I think the gray silk would be more suitable for this . . .”

  “Mother,” John said, interrupting her prattling. “I love you dearly, but I really don't have time for a fashion consult at this time.” He pressed a kiss onto her hand to soften his rebuff.

  “A gentleman should always make time to look his best,” she returned smartly. “After all, you never know who you might see.”

  An image of Catherine flashed into his mind. Perhaps he did have the time to change. “The gray silk, eh?” With a tug, he removed his blue cravat. “Excuse me, Mother.” Bellowing for his manservant, John took the stairs two at a time.

  If he'd taken a moment to glance back at his mother, he would have caught her satisfied, cat-in-the-cream smile.

  “What d
o you mean, you're going for a ride?”

  Elizabeth just stared at her father. “I mean just what I said, Papa,” she returned slowly. “It's the first sunny morning in a week, so I wished to go for a ride and enjoy the fine weather.”

  “I understand. In fact, I was going to suggest it myself, b-b-but a little later,” he stammered.

  Frowning over Papa's odd comment, Elizabeth asked, “Is there any particular reason I can't go now?”

  “This is hardly a fashionable hour to go riding,” he said in a rush, as if he was searching for reasons to keep them from riding.

  “Since when have I ever been concerned with appearing fashionable?” Elizabeth countered with a laugh.

  “Why all this concern, Papa?” Catherine asked.

  “Concern?” he blustered, puffing out his chest. “ Simply because I enjoy having my girls around me doesn't mean I'm concerned.”

  “Fine then, Papa.” Smiling, Elizabeth pressed a kiss to her father's cheek. “We're off, but I promise we'll return in a short while . . . so you don't get too lonely.”

  Muttering about disrespect, their father disappeared into his study. Together, Elizabeth and Catherine headed out into the sunlight, mounted their horses, and set off for the park.

  “Why do you think Papa was acting so strangely?” Catherine asked as they walked their horses down the wide path.

  Considering the question for a moment, Elizabeth finally shook her head. “I don't know. Perhaps he's just missing Mama more today.”

  “You're probably right,” Catherine conceded. “But he's been so much better lately that his behavior today surprises me.”

  “Everyone's entitled to a bad day. Whenever I'm feeling less than social, I simply hide in my workshop,” Elizabeth admitted.

  A dimple appeared in Catherine's cheek as she grinned. “Is that why you're there so often?”

  “My, my, aren't you amusing?”

  Catherine nodded briskly. “I think so. In fact, I do believe that . . .” A loud gasp escaped her. “There she is!”

  Elizabeth looked at the few people riding near them in the park. “There who is?”

  “The blonde lady,” exclaimed Catherine. Before Elizabeth could ask another question, Catherine slapped her horse into a canter.

  “Catherine, wait!” But her sister didn't even slow her horse, leaving Elizabeth with no choice but to follow.

  Unfortunately, Catherine reached the woman and her escort before Elizabeth could stop her. Pulling back on the reins, Elizabeth brought her horse alongside her sister's in time to hear Catherine's opening remark.

  “Excuse my boldness, my lady,” she said sweetly. “Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lady Catherine Everley, and I saw you near the theater this past Friday.”

  The young lady's eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

  While the woman's reaction would have stopped Elizabeth cold, it apparently left Catherine undaunted, for she forged onward. “I saw you the other evening in the gardens next to the theater,” she repeated. “You met a gentleman there.”

  “I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else,” the lady said politely. “I was at home alone that evening.”

  At her remark, the gentleman beside her twisted in his saddle and faced them for the first time. “Lord Morrow!” gasped Elizabeth, unable to hold in her surprise.

  “Lady Elizabeth,” he drawled. “What an unexpected delight.”

  The way his gaze ran down her made Elizabeth fight the urge to check to see that her riding habit was properly fastened.

  “You know each other?” asked the lady.

  “Indeed, we do. Lord Vernon introduced us.” He shifted his gaze onto Catherine. “However, I've yet to have the honor of meeting this beautiful lady.”

  Catherine looked expectantly toward Elizabeth, but she wasn't about to introduce her sister to the loathsome Lord Morrow. “No, I don't believe you have,” she murmured vaguely.

  Apparently Catherine had little liking for Elizabeth's decision, for she took the matter into her own hands. “My sister is such a jester at times,” she said, offering Lord Morrow a charming smile. “I'm Lady Catherine Everley.”

  “A pleasure.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “And might I present my sister, Lady Serena Cole.”

  Annoyance flickered in Lady Serena's gaze so briefly that Elizabeth convinced herself she'd imagined it. “It is indeed a pleasure, Lady Elizabeth, Lady Catherine,” she said softly.

  “Lady Serena,” began Catherine, the determined note in her voice alerting Elizabeth to her sister's intent, “I am positive that you are the woman I . . .”

  “I hate to interrupt you, Catherine, but we really must be off now.” Without giving her sister a moment to protest, Elizabeth reached out and swatted Catherine's horse, sending the animal jolting forward. “We promised our father we'd hurry home,” she said in what she prayed was a somewhat polite reply.

  Elizabeth kicked her horse into a gallop to catch up with Catherine, who now had her mount under control. “What on earth did you do that for?”

  Ignoring Catherine's question, Elizabeth continued toward the house, this time leaving her sister to play catchup. Catherine was again at her side when they arrived back home. After handing the reins over to the waiting groom, they entered the house through the gardens.

  “I believe I asked you a question,” Catherine snapped, yanking off her riding gloves.

  “You want to know why I . . . hastened our departure?” Elizabeth asked as she, too, removed her gloves. “Very well, then. Reason number one is that we promised Papa we would return soon.” Lifting her hand, she began to tick off her points. “Reason number two is that Lord Morrow is a detestable man who is best to avoid. And reason number three is you were about to launch into yet another, dare I say, attack upon that poor woman.” Elizabeth tossed her gloves on the sideboard. “Lady Serena is cursed enough just by having a brother like Lord Morrow. The last thing she needs is to have you accuse her of running off and meeting a lover in the dark of night like she was a common trollop.”

  Catherine's eyes snapped with anger. “I never implied she was a trollop,” she retorted sharply. “I'm the one who thought the whole thing desperately romantic and am concerned for her welfare.”

  “How do you know it's her welfare you need to be concerned with?” Elizabeth propped her hands upon her hips. “After all, you told me yourself that she was too far away to get a good look at her, not to mention it was dark and near the river, so fog was rolling in at the time.” Tilting her head, Elizabeth pretended to be lost in thought. “Oh, yes, and there is that one last pesky reason to doubt she was the woman you saw.” She stared at her sister. “Lady Serena denied the whole incident!”

  “Well, well . . .” Catherine stammered, then suddenly a triumphant expression settled onto her face. “I know why she denied meeting her lover at the theater,” Catherine announced confidently. “Undoubtedly the poor girl has yet to tell her brother about her own true love, so she couldn't very well admit to it in front of him.” A dramatic sigh feathered from Catherine. “They are star-crossed lovers, just like Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Oh, for Heaven's sake, Cat!” burst Elizabeth. “How far are you determined to take this nonsense? It is time to stop weaving these ridiculous romantic fantasies about everything. Not everything in life has a happy ending.”

  “Do you think I don't know that?” Catherine asked quietly.

  Elizabeth's annoyance faded at her sister's quiet admission. “I'm sorry, Cat, it's just that I fear you want so badly for your happy ending that you refuse to see reason.”

  Before Catherine could reply, their father stepped into the foyer. “I thought I heard voices,” he said, moving to welcome them home with a kiss. “I appreciate you taking such a quick ride.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the open door of his study. “So, what are the two of you planning to do now?”

  “Since we're in the middle of an argument, I believe we might continue with that.” Elizabeth
lifted a brow at her sister. “How does that sound to you, Catherine?”

  Catherine scowled at her. “Like the perfect plan.”

  “What, pray tell, are the two of you arguing about now?” asked their father as he rolled his eyes.

  “And can we watch?”

  Elizabeth was surprised to see Lord Wykham leaning against the doorjamb of her father's study. “When did you arrive, my lord?”

  “Just a short while ago.” A corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Your father invited me for a visit.”

  “How delightful. As for me, I'd prefer to hear more about your interest in watching two women argue,” Catherine said flirtatiously. “Why, Lord Wykham, I never would have suspected.”

  “Ladies are usually so . . . inventive in their insults that I find it utterly fascinating to hear them argue,” John said as he leaned against the doorjamb.

  “You sound as if you have quite a bit of experience in this area, my lord.” Catherine slid her gloves slowly through her left hand. “Yet another surprise,” she murmured.

  A corner of his mouth tilted upward. “Splendid . . . for you see, I've been told recently that I am far too staid and boring and that I needed to ease up a bit.” His mouth slid into a full grin. “How am I doing?”

  “Positively wonderful,” Catherine replied with a breathless catch to her voice.

  “Let's go, Catherine.”

  Father's abrupt pronouncement made Catherine blink. “Go where?”

  “Er . . . to the garden,” he said as he stepped forward, clasped her elbow, and steered her down the hallway. “I promised you I'd tour your garden, and I'd like to do so . . . at this very moment.” Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder at Elizabeth and John. “Don't mean to be rude, Wykham, but I am just too eager to see my daughter's work. Hope you don't mind.” He waved to them. “ Elizabeth, why don't you keep his lordship entertained until I return?”

  And with that, he resumed tugging Catherine down the hall.

  Surprised at this odd turn of events, Elizabeth turned toward Lord Wykham. “My goodness,” she murmured. “That was . . . unexpected.”