Trouble at the Wedding

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  He didn’t deserve to be forgiven. He knew that. But standing here now, thinking of the man he’d been then, he knew he wasn’t that man any longer. Somehow, in the intervening twelve years since her death, he’d grown up without even realizing it. The man he was now could appreciate what he had, take care of his responsibilities, and love one woman with his whole heart.

  Today, the vows he made would not be a lie. He loved Annabel, he wanted to love and honor and cherish that woman forever, he wanted to spend his life with her and only her. He wanted her love in return, and he wanted, every day, to make her happy. He loved her in a way the shallow, immature youth he’d been all those years ago had never been able to love Evie.

  The grandfather clock chimed the half hour, and Christian knew it was time to go. Slowly, with infinite regret that he knew would never quite leave him, he laid the past aside and reached up to touch his wife’s pale, painted cheek. “Evie,” he said gently, “I have to say good-bye.”

  The dress fit her like a glove. The flowers were beautiful, the chapel hushed and lovely as Annabel walked in on George’s arm. As she came up the aisle, she was glad for the veil. It hid the doubts she felt railing inside and made her seem ethereally calm as she walked toward Christian.

  He watched her as she came closer, his handsome face so serious. As she separated from George and moved to stand beside him, her doubts, instead of easing, grew louder.

  “Dearly beloved . . .” the vicar began, while Annabel’s mind raced.

  Could she do it? she wondered. Could she spend her life loving him and not being loved in return? She began to fear that she couldn’t. But she had to.

  “If any man has just cause,” the vicar intoned, “why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

  This was it, the moment of truth. Now or never.

  “Wait.” Annabel held up her white-gloved hand, palm toward the vicar. “I can’t.”

  Ignoring the gasps and groans of the guests, she yanked back her veil, thrust her bouquet into Sylvia’s hands, giving the other woman a look of heartfelt apology, and turned to Christian. “I can’t do this,” she said, forcing herself to look up into his astonished face. “I can’t marry you because of what other people think, or because you want to do the right thing by me after what happened before. I can’t do it.”

  He was staring at her as if unable to believe what he was hearing, and she couldn’t blame him. She hardly believed it herself. “I’m sorry, Christian. I know I’m the hardest-headed woman in the world, and it takes me forever to admit when I’m wrong, but I’m admitting it now. I was wrong, and you were right.”

  “Right about what?” He shook his head in bafflement. “Annabel, what are you talking about?”

  “You said no one should get married without love.” She paused, feeling her throat close up, and it took everything she had to force out the words that had to be said. “And you were right,” she choked, gesturing to the glittering opulence of the chapel, “that without love, none of this means a thing. I love you, but I know you don’t love me, so I can’t marry you, Christian. I’m sorry.”

  Tears stung her eyes, tears of real heartbreak this time, and she turned away before he could see them, before he got any more silly ideas in his head about doing right by her.

  Grasping handfuls of her silk skirt in her fists, she ran down the aisle, ignoring the astonished faces of the guests and Christian’s voice calling her name. She ran for all she was worth, out of the chapel and across the weedy lawn. She didn’t know where she was going, but all she wanted now was to get away before he tried to be noble again and do the right thing.

  “Annabel, wait!”

  She could hear him behind her, and she ran faster, but there was no way she could outrun him, especially not in her corseted gown. She tried, but within moments, she felt his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her against him, and he stopped, bringing her to a stop as well. “Did you mean it?” he asked, his voice a fierce whisper against her ear. “Do you love me?”

  She struggled, but his arms wrapped around her to keep her there, his chest pressed to her back, his breathing hard and quick against her cheek.

  “Let me go, Christian,” she cried with a sob, shoving at the arm he had around her waist, unable to free herself or stop the tears that began rolling down her cheeks.

  “Did you mean what you said in there?” he asked again, holding her tight. “Do you love me?”

  She couldn’t say it. “Why does it matter?” she said instead, and she was glad he couldn’t see the tears falling down her face. “We can’t get married. Don’t you see that? I can’t be your second chance.”

  “Is that what you think?” He let her go then, but only to turn her around, her fingers gripping tighter when she tried to turn away. “That by marrying you, I’m trying to make up for Evie?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No. And I’m not marrying you to ‘do the right thing,’ as you put it, although I don’t blame you for thinking so. Even I thought that’s what I was doing. But this morning, I finally realized the truth, and I’m afraid it’s far more selfish than that. You see, I’ve never been very good at doing the right thing. I’m marrying you because I want to. I love you, Annabel. I realize it’s a bit late in the day to say it, but it’s true.”

  She stared at him, terrified, not able to quite believe him. “You mean it?”

  “Yes, I do.” He tightened his hold on her arms, giving her a little shake. “And I don’t care where you came from. I don’t care how you talk—I adore your voice, and always have. It’s a smashing voice, and if you ever take diction lessons, I shall sue for divorce. And I’m not marrying you because of what people would say if I didn’t. I’m not saving your reputation or being heroic. I love you. I’ve loved you almost from the beginning, but I just didn’t realize it. Call me thick, but I believe it only started to sink in when I came home.”

  “Home? You mean—”

  “I mean here. At Scarborough. While I was here without you, making everything ready for today, it made me think about what all this really meant. Marriage, you know, and children, and how we’d be caretakers here, not owners, and how we’d be taking care of all this not for ourselves, but for them, the next generation. That’s why I took you to the nursery yesterday, and I’ve never been happier in my life than I was at that moment when you said you didn’t want our children to be stuck back in those dark, gloomy rooms, and how you just weren’t going to let it happen.”

  “I feel pretty strong about that. So—”

  “I know, and that’s why I love you. You’re a fighter.” He paused, looking at her steadily. “I never thought you’d try to try to duck your responsibilities.”

  She sucked in her breath. “That’s not fair.”

  “I never thought,” he continued, “that you’d run away, or take the easy way out.” He spread his arms wide, a sweeping gesture that encompassed the vast estate all around them. “I thought you’d fight for this, and for us. That’s what I want to do.”

  She caught back a sob, wanting with all her heart to believe him. “Christian—”

  “I don’t want to duck my responsibilities. For the first time, I feel as if there’s a purpose to my life, and that purpose is to be your husband, live here with you and our children, and do what I can to take care of this place and the village and the farms. I’d never thought about things that way before. I’d regarded marrying Evie as a duty I was expected to perform, but I never saw any need to change my life because of it. I was only twenty-one when I married, far too immature to know what love or even duty really meant. But I know now. I love you and my duty is to you and us, and our children.”

  “And I—”

  “I’ll be honest,” he cut in, “I’m glad you’ve got money, because we’ll need it for Scarborough. I wish I could have made the grand gesture and said I won’t take a penny from you, but I couldn’t afford to do that. There really wasn’t
any other way, but I swear to you, Annabel, on my life, your money has nothing to do with why I want you to marry me. It’s because I love you, and—”

  “Cryin’ all night,” she shouted, forced to raise her voice to get a word in, “when you decide to sweet-talk a girl, you just don’t know when to stop! Can I say something, please?”

  He straightened, letting her go, and gave a little cough. “Of course. Sorry.”

  “I meant what I said. I do love you.” As she spoke, she began to laugh, the joy bubbling up inside her impossible to contain. “And I’m not trying to run away or duck out. Honest. But I knew I couldn’t marry you without your love in return. I love you, Christian. And now that I know you love me, you’ll never get rid of me. If you decided to give up your title, if you decide to go wandering off to Paris or America or even the Klondike, you better be prepared to take me with you, ’cause I’m not gonna sit at home alone and cry over you.”

  “Annabel, a duke can’t give up his title. There’s no means of doing so, and I don’t want to. I want the job.” He laughed, as if in disbelief. “Deuce take it, I really do. But only if you are my duchess.”

  “I want it, too.”

  “Do you, really? I know far better than you what you’re in for. Maybe . . .” He paused and swallowed hard, then added diffidently, “Maybe you ought to take another minute and think it over.”

  She did. She looked into his handsome face and thought about it long and hard. She looked in those smoky blue eyes with their devil-black lashes, noted all the faint creases of too much high living at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and remembered how that mouth could form its wicked yet charming smile. It was a rake’s face, that was for sure. But, like her daddy, she must have a gambler’s heart, because she was going to put her money and her future on the line for a rake.

  She frowned at him. “Are you goin’ to reform once we get married?”

  He didn’t even blink. “No.”

  “Good.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Because I love you just the way you are.”

  “And I love you, so don’t change. Ever.” He kissed her, a long, lingering kiss, but then, he pulled back, smiling at her. “I might be a rake and you might be just a girl from Gooseneck Bend, Mississippi, but we have two hundred and forty-two guests in there, waiting for us to carry on with this. So . . .” He paused, gesturing to the chapel behind him, “Shall we?”

  “I think we have to. It is our duty.”

  “Quite right, m’dear,” he said, his voice so highbrow it made her laugh. “Quite right.”

  As they walked back toward the chapel, he unexpectedly threw back his head with a shout of laughter. “God, me doing my duty. Who’d have thought it?” He paused outside the chapel doors. “Maybe I am reforming after all.”

  “Well, stop it, would you?” she ordered. “I knew the first moment I saw you that you were trouble, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  Christian and Annabel went back inside, and this time, when the vicar reached the part about any man having just cause, nobody said a word. Annabel’s family was probably mighty relieved about that.

  About the Author

  LAURA LEE GUHRKE spent seven years in advertising, had a successful catering business, and managed a construction company before she decided writing novels was more fun. The New York Times bestselling author of more than sixteen historical romances, Laura has received many literary awards, including romance fiction’s highest honor, the RITA® Award, and her books routinely appear on the USA Today bestseller list. When she’s not tapping away at her keyboard, Laura spends her time relearning how to ski, mastering the wakeboard grab, and trying to actually hit a golf ball, much to the amusement of her friends. She loves hearing from readers, and you may write to her by visiting her website, www.lauraleeguhrke.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  By Laura Lee Guhrke

  Trouble at the Wedding

  Scandal of the Year

  Wedding of the Season

  With Seduction in Mind

  Secret Desires of a Gentleman

  The Wicked Ways of a Duke

  And Then He Kissed Her

  She’s No Princess

  The Marriage Bed

  His Every Kiss

  Guilty Pleasures

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  TROUBLE AT THE WEDDING. Copyright © 2012 by Laura Lee Guhrke. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition JANUARY 2012 ISBN: 9780062096326

  Print Edition ISBN: 9780061963179

  FIRST EDITION

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