Wedding of the Year

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  “Really?” Richard said in a considering tone. “Then I suppose I'll have to prove to you that I'm a changed man.” Before he even finished uttering the last syllable, Richard launched himself at Morrow's legs as Morrow fired, sending the lead ball harmlessly into the wall. As Morrow fell to the ground, Richard scrambled on top of him and plowed his fist into Morrow's face, knocking him unconscious.

  Richard drew back his fist to give in to one last punch against the man who had threatened his family.

  “I think that's quite enough.”

  Richard's gut churned as he watched first his mother, then Catherine step into the room . . . followed by another woman, who held a gun to Catherine's head. “Lady Serena, I presume,” Richard said, as all of the pieces clicked together.

  “Aren't you the clever one?” she murmured, her beautifully shaped blue eyes dead. “But then you'd have to be, to spoil all of my plans.”

  He gestured toward Morrow. “I knew he didn't have the intelligence to pull off a kidnapping.” He remembered the runner's report on Morrow. “Were you the mastermind behind his blackmail schemes?”

  “Heard about those as well, did you?” Her smile chilled him to the bone. “My brother is a drunken sot who ran through all of our money within a year of our parents’ death.” Her jaw tightened. “For a while, I allowed him to manage our lives, until he completely bungled everything, leaving us penniless and homeless.” Her dead eyes began to shimmer with madness. “Well, I've had enough of being poor, of relying on the generosity of others for a place to live.”

  “So you decided to capitalize on your one remaining asset,” Richard concluded accurately. “Your beauty.”

  “And why not? Women have been making money off men's foolish lust for hundreds of years.” She tossed her head proudly. “I'm just smarter than the rest and figured out a way to do it without selling my body.”

  Pointing his thumb at Isaac, he kept Serena looking toward him, hoping she wouldn't notice John shifting his legs to untie the final knots that held him. “So you enticed young Isaac here, making him believe you'd fallen in love with him, when all the while, all of you planned to kidnap him and ransom him back to his parents.” He caught the mocking glimmer in her expression. “You never intended to return him home alive, did you?”

  “He'd seen us, all of us. What do you think?” Serena remarked, leaving no doubt in Richard's mind. “My brother was supposed to have killed him and disposed of the body, but he managed to bungle that as well. He said he didn't have the stomach to do the job. I would have done it myself, but it was too dangerous for me to be seen down here until we had our money.”

  “So when Catherine recognized you in the park, you must have panicked, because you began to make mistakes.”

  “I don't make mistakes.”

  Holding up his hands, he warded off her anger. “Fine, fine. You don't make mistakes.” He paused before pointing out, “Yet when you arranged for Mr. Lewis to be taken, someone saw the entire incident.” He tapped his finger against his knee. “Ah, yes, and let's not forget that I did manage to find this hideaway.”

  “Only because of my idiot brother,” Serena snapped, gesturing toward Morrow with the gun.

  “But you're the one in charge; you were the one responsible for making certain things were done right.”

  When Serena swung the pistol from Catherine onto him, Richard rallied at his success. “I cannot be held accountable for the mistakes of others,” Serena sneered.

  “Ah, but you are,” Richard taunted her.

  “Enough!” Serena's shriek echoed throughout the room. “I can still make this work.”

  “How?” Richard demanded, pushing her to the brink. “By killing every last one of us, then collecting the money from Isaac's parents?”

  “Precisely,” Serena agreed with an evil smile.

  “And what of the runners who are on their way here at this very moment?”

  “I shall be long gone before they arrive.” She began to pull back on the trigger. “But first, I need to clean up this mess.”

  Looking into Serena's face, Richard knew he was a dead man.

  What was taking so long?

  Elizabeth kept an unwavering gaze upon the now open window, expecting to see Richard give her their agreedupon all-clear wave. But as the minutes began to tick by, she grew more and more worried that something had gone wrong.

  As another minute ticked by with no sign of Richard, she knew something was wrong. But what should she do? All Richard had needed from her before was a distraction. Perhaps if she provided him with another one, he might be able to get himself out of whatever trouble had befallen them.

  Then, if that didn't work, she would climb up and help them herself.

  Opening her valise, she withdrew the catapult she'd been working on for so long. Guessing at the tragectory angle, she positioned it in place, before beginning to mix together another explosive. But this time, she would use baking soda instead of the more dangerous acid. It would be safer for everyone in the room, but would provide the same smoking effect.

  Her tour of Richard's factory had inspired this new mixture, so it was only fitting that she use it to help him. She soaked a rag in the base mixture, then tied it around the largest rock she could find and placed it in the cradle of the catapult.

  After one last check of the releasing mechanism, she poured vinegar over the cloth to start the chemical reaction before releasing the arm, sending the now fizzing, smoking cloth flying upward into the window.

  Bull's-eye.

  As Richard prepared to dive off to the side, another loud explosion reverberated through the night air. Smoke filled the air, and Richard made his move. Holding his breath, he headed toward the thickest part of the smoke, hiding inside the cloud as Serena regained her senses and began to swing her pistol around in search of him.

  “Where are you, you bastard?” she screamed, turning toward where he stood in the now dispersing smoke. When she began to smile at him, Richard understood true evil for the first time in his life. “It's time for you to die,” she murmured as she leveled the pistol directly at his heart.

  Serena pulled the trigger, and Richard dropped to his knees, falling out of harm's way, just as John grabbed hold of her legs, sending her crashing to the floor. When Catherine and his mother retrieved the rope they'd used on John, Richard bound Serena tightly, before moving on to tie up the still unconscious Morrow. His mother untied Mr. Lewis and Isaac, while Catherine cradled both John and her father's heads in her lap.

  Tightening the last knot on Morrow's bindings, Richard stood as Elizabeth stumbled into the room, followed by Mr. Baker and a small army of Bow Street Runners. Frantically, she scanned the room until she saw him. In an instant, she was in his arms.

  And all was right with the world.

  21

  “I never suspected a thing,” Catherine admitted, her mouth tightening as she remembered how she'd been duped. “And I even let her cry on my shoulder.”

  John's laugh turned into a groan as he held his head where they'd hit him.

  “My poor darling,” Catherine murmured, leaning down to press a kiss onto the injured spot. They'd left that horrid building . . . after hearing an earful from Mr. Baker on how they could have all been killed—as if they hadn't already figured that out for themselves . . . and they'd all come back to her home.

  Elizabeth and Richard were off somewhere together and Lady Wykham was tending to Papa, leaving Catherine alone with John on the terrace, sitting side by side on a cool marble bench.

  “The whole time I was in that awful place, I wasn't certain if I was ever going to leave it alive,” John said quietly. “And as I thought back on my life, I realized there are a lot of things I've come to regret, but do you know what the largest regret was?”

  Catherine shook her head, not even willing to take a guess.

  Lifting his hand, he trailed his fingers along her hairline, coming to curve around the back of her neck. “I regretted not
accepting your offer.”

  “What offer?”

  Releasing her, John rose and held out his hand. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

  Understanding and love flooded her as she placed her hand within his, allowing him to tug her off the bench and into his arms. Humming softly, he waltzed her slowly around the terrace. “I have died and gone to Heaven, but no one has the courage to tell me,” John murmured against her hair.

  “Your head wouldn't be pounding if you were in Heaven,” Catherine pointed out with a laugh.

  Arching her back against his arm, John gazed down at her. “I've been such a fool, Catherine. I nearly let life pass by me with never once enjoying the simple pleasures, like waltzing with the woman I love beneath a star-kissed night.”

  “Woman you love?” she repeated, her mouth suddenly dry. “Just how hard did you get hit, John?”

  He laughed again, wincing as he did it. “Don't worry. I came to my senses before the blow to my head.” The smile slid off his face and he brought their dance to a halt. “I know exactly what I'm saying when I tell you I love you, Catherine Everley. When you came into my life, you terrified me. I was convinced that you would drive me mad with your impulsiveness, your zest for embracing all life has to offer, your sheer unpredictability.” The look in his eyes spoke volumes. “But if this is madness, then I willingly commit myself, for to be without you would be like living in a world without light.” Slowly, he bent his head and tenderly kissed her, his touch promising a wealth of happiness. “Please say you'll marry me and save me from my horrid fate,” he finished with a smile.

  Tilting her head to the side, she gazed up at him. “As proposals go, my lord, that one was decidedly humorous in nature, utterly unsuitable for a proper young lady . . .” Pausing, she slid her arms around his neck. “. . . and utterly perfect for me.”

  With a groan, John captured her smile with his kiss, just as surely as he'd captured her heart.

  “. . . and when you created that second explosion in . . .” Richard broke off, frowning slightly. “How did you do that?”

  Clasping her hands behind her back, Elizabeth strolled next to a soot-streaked Richard through the quiet garden behind her house. “Since I wasn't certain where you would need me to set off the explosion, I brought along the catapult I'd designed. When you didn't signal for me, I knew something had gone wrong, so I thought you might need another diversion.”

  Richard grinned down at her, his teeth gleaming white beneath his darkened skin. “Have I told you you're positively brilliant?”

  His words pleased and embarrassed her. “Have I told you you're positively a mess?”

  Holding his arms wide, he reached for her. “Come give me a hug,” he murmured as he enfolded her close, leaving streaks of soot all over her.

  Laughing, she pushed against him, trying to break free. “Stop it, Richard.”

  He grew still. “I have no intentions of stopping,” he said seriously. “Now, or ever.”

  Elizabeth stopped writhing in his arms. “Good.”

  He stared down at her with such intensity it seemed as if he were trying to see clear to her very soul. “Do you mean it?”

  “Mean what?” Holding onto his hopelessly stained lapels, she met his eyes. “Do I mean that I love you? Most definitely. Do I mean that I believe I might find happiness living in town? As long as I'm with you, I do.” The certainty she'd felt in that awful alley rested securely within her. “Do I mean I plan on holding you to your proposal?” Sliding up onto her tiptoes, she came within a hairsbreadth of his lips. “Just try to get away from me now.”

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered before claiming her mouth with a passion, a hunger, a love she knew would never end. “I'll make you happy, I promise.”

  She smiled at him. “I'll make myself happy,” she said confidently. “But having you in my life will make me even happier.”

  “It's a bargain.” Bending his head to kiss her again, Richard pulled back at the last minute. “Would you demonstrate your catapult to me? It seemed amazingly accurate and I . . .”

  “Later,” she murmured, drawing him toward her. “Much later.”

  Richard went along with her plans most willingly.

  The evening was almost gone when Douglas finally entered his bedchamber, more at peace than he'd been in a long time. Margaret hovered near the fireplace, little more than a hazy shadow.

  “It's time, Douglas,” she said, her voice sounding very faraway.

  “Yes,” he finally agreed. “It's time.” Pushing away from the door, he walked over to the chair where he'd sat many a night, talking with her, gazing at her, longing for her. “I love you still, Margaret, but tonight, as I watched our daughters endanger themselves for the men they've grown to love, I realized how unfair I'd been to them, to you, even to myself.” He held onto the back of his chair, trying to find the right words to explain what was in his heart. “If John had been killed, I would have held Catherine as she'd mourned, then urged her to let him go, for she's still a young woman with a life left to live.” Lifting his hand, he pressed it against his chest. “And tonight I realized that I have a life left to live as well. Not quite as much as Catherine, granted, but enough that to squander it would be a crime.”

  Margaret's ghost seemed to glow. “That's so true, my love,” she whispered, an airy sound that caressed him.

  “Nor is it what I would have wanted for you if I had been the one to die.” He smiled at his wife. For the first time since her death, he didn't feel anger, only quiet acceptance. “You've been very patient with me, Margaret, staying with me all these years. If our positions had been reversed, I wager I'd have railed at you nonstop.”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “You needed me, Douglas.”

  “Indeed, I did,” he admitted, knowing he would have sunk into a dark abyss forever without Margaret guiding him out of the darkness. “I will always love you, Margaret, and I'll always miss you, but I've finally learned how to live without you.” He blew her a soft kiss, wishing briefly that he might kiss her in earnest to say farewell, but he let that wish go as well. “Good-bye for now, my love.”

  Touching her hands to her lips, Margaret gently blew him a kiss, her breath a soft, sweetly scented breeze that washed over him. Closing his eyes, Douglas inhaled deeply, and when he opened them again, she was gone.

  The first morning's rays of sunlight pierced his room, ridding every corner of shadows. Sliding his chair away from the darkness by the fireplace, Douglas moved it directly in front of the window and sat down to watch the sun come up.

  It was being touted as the Wedding of the Year.

  Elizabeth nearly laughed out loud at the thought, but managed to hold in her amusement. It would hardly do to be caught laughing at the altar. Feeling his gaze upon her, Elizabeth looked across the expanse of marble . . . and directly into her husband's eyes.

  Her husband.

  Just saying the words sent a shiver of wonder and delight down her spine. Two weeks earlier, they'd been married in the chapel at Godmersham, with close friends and family in attendance. Even the Burnbaums had traveled all the way from London to attend. The image of Richard awaiting her on the altar, with John standing at his side as best man, would forever remain in her heart.

  Now Richard stood at John's side as Catherine and John united. In front of a crush of people. Surprisingly, Elizabeth felt at ease. She'd finally found the acceptance she'd craved for so long. She and Richard lived next door to the Burnbaum's in that lovely section of town, and their new house came complete with a large shed out back that she'd immediately converted into her new workshop. She'd already begun working on one of Richard's designs to build a machine that would help him in his factory.

  As predicted, the ton had ostracized them upon learning of Richard's trade. Yet, it didn't matter one bit to either of them. They'd built a new life for themselves, filled with friends, love, and family. Elizabeth smiled across the altar at her husband. No, she'd never regret losing her so
cial status; she was far too busy being happy.

  As the organ music swelled, Elizabeth watched her sister glide down the aisle upon their father's arm. Leading Catherine to the altar, he handed her into John's care and stepped back. And in her heart, Elizabeth knew that somehow, someway, Mama was here today . . . just as she'd been at her wedding two weeks ago.

  Seeing the adoration in John's face as he gazed down upon Catherine's loving expression, Elizabeth knew they, too, would find the happiness she and Richard had found. Her sister would make a perfect marchioness.

  And as for her, well, she'd make a perfect pretzel maker's wife.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21