Stop That Wedding

by Melissa Klein

  A rap on the door had him rushing to open it. “Diana—”

  The vicar’s wife held up a towel-wrapped bundle. “I brought peas.”

  He blinked. “We’re not hungry but thanks.” He was beginning to grasp the southern penchant for feeding guests. Really…peas? Now?

  She let out a breath. “They’re frozen. I’m going to put them on the duke’s face.”

  “You must think me daft. It’s very good of you to think of him.” Andrew attempted to accept the packet, only to have Mrs. Beecham hold them above her head.

  She took a step across the threshold and craned her neck to see Neville. “Jackie is a friend of mine. I know she’d want me to take care of y’all.”

  Andrew blocked her path. “Thank you. I can see to him.”

  “Trying to lend a hand. It’s the Christian thing to do.”

  “It’s much appreciated.” He took the offering, stepping forward so he could close the door. With her on the other side. “I’ll be sure to mention this when we see her.”

  From the hallway she called, “Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  Bloody hell, these were either the most gracious people on the planet. Or the nosiest.

  Andrew passed the bag to Neville and took the seat next to him. “You look a frightful mess.” His thoughts on Diana and how the revelation affected his chances with her had preempted the fact his uncle had been in a brawl.

  “You should see the other guy.” Neville chuckled. “Aw. That hurts.” His face grew serious. “Worth it though. Embarrassing my Jackie.”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle, I should have insisted on seeing her divorce decree.”

  Neville patted Andrew’s knee. “Not your responsibility.” A smile replaced his stern expression. “Everything will work out. For all of us.”

  Does he know about Diana and me?

  “Be patient and have faith in our women.” He winked. “You’ll see.”

  Having his secret known had a surprisingly uplifting effect. Air flowed more freely through his lungs. The knot in his belly uncoiled. His purpose redoubled. “You’re right.”

  Knock, knock.

  The weight returned.

  Both their fates waited on the other side. He schooled his features. Willed calm. Pushed the nightmares to the far corners of his imagination.

  “Open the door, my boy. Don’t keep the ladies waiting.”

  Diana held onto her mama, her breath, and her courage. When Andrew opened the door to Reverend Beecham’s study, they all escaped her grasp. He appeared calm. Emotionless. British reserve at its finest.

  Jackie’s stumble and whimper kept Diana focused on the mission at hand. She led her mama to the nearest chair, arranging her in the seat like a life-size doll. The duke took Jackie’s hand, giving Diana the first glimmer of hope since her father’s disastrous announcement.

  “Tell us how it went, my dear.” Neville brought Jackie’s hand to his lips. “Shall we be returning to the chapel momentarily or in a few weeks’ time?”

  The duke’s query acted like a fresh battery to an electronic toy. “Really?” Jackie fluffed her veil. Straightened her dress. “You still want me, Dukie Dear?”

  He pouted, his bruised and swollen lip protruding further. “Have you so little faith in me? Of course, I still want you. Now, tell me, what’s it to be?”

  Her hands fluttered free from his. “Diana is so much better at explaining things than I am.”

  She drew in a breath. “It seems my father is correct. There is no divorce. However, given they haven’t lived together in decades and share no property, I see no reason why a divorce can’t be obtained in a matter of weeks.”

  Neville cocked an eyebrow. “An autumn wedding then.”

  “Perhaps you might consider a private affair this time.” Andrew shook his head, a crack in his British reserve showing.

  “Whatever Jackie wants.” Neville tugged his fiancée to her feet. “Right now, we have guests to entertain.”

  Diana rubbed the pain in her middle. “I’ll be with you in a moment, Mama. I want to freshen up.” Too bad the church had a no-alcohol stance. She could use a belt of something strong before facing that crowd.

  “You two take your time.” Jackie hooked her arm through Neville’s.

  The duke leaned in and whispered loudly. “Maybe there’ll be more than one announcement to make.”

  Diana’s grasp on the situation snapped. Had Mama and Neville breezed over the pre-existing husband like it was a bigamy bump? Sailed off to a reception for a wedding that wasn’t? Then inferred they knew she and Andrew were lovers? The furniture and books in the room swirled. She stumbled then reached out to steady herself. What next?

  “Sit.” Andrew led her to the chair Jackie vacated. “My mind’s playing catch up as well.”

  “They know?”

  “Appears so. Diana, you have to understand—”

  She waved away his concern. Some issues were easy enough to work through. “You had no way of knowing. It was a complete accident, and considering the facts, a lucky thing for my mama.”

  He pulled the other chair so they sat knee-to-knee. “Was it a lucky thing for you though? Are you okay with seeing your father again?”

  “I’m fine.” She turned her head, so he couldn’t see the welling tears. “My granddaddy was the perfect male role model for me. I was fine before Dusty popped back up, and I’ll be fine, now.”

  Time to tackle the more difficult topics. Setting Andrew straight. Letting him go.

  As her granddaddy always pointed out, the shortest distance between two points was a straight line. “Now I’ve got Mama settled, I’m going to take time off. Alone. Instead of Biloxi, I have a friend from Ole Miss who moved to Portland. I’m going pay her a visit. Who knows, maybe Oregon will suit me. I might stay.”

  “Please, hear me out.” He took her hands.

  Diana didn’t have the will to pull from his grasp, but neither could she meet his gaze. She studied the moiré fabric of her dress and imagined the swirls and lines taking her far from this heartbreak. “If this is about the conversation with your father last night, I have a pretty good grasp of the situation. Your father wants you to marry me, and you don’t want to.”

  “Not because I don’t love you.”

  Her head popped up. “Say that again.”

  “Diana Frances Curtis. I. Love. You.”

  Those three words should have eased her pain. Should have brought her joy. Should have made everything right. “It doesn’t change anything though, does it? I’m not proper marriage material even if your father approves of me.”

  “He approves of your money.”

  When faced with losing his pride or losing Diana, it was no choice after all. “We’re broke.” Relief spread through him with the admission. “My uncle hasn’t a pence to his name. Chatham Park is barely habitable. My parents rent their townhome in London. And the lot of them rely on me for their income. By gambling. I’m a professional. Over the years I’ve worked out a system that pays off rather reliably.”

  Diana pulled her hands from his. “You’re a card shark.”

  “I count cards, which is perfectly legal.” He banked on her family’s history with the occupation and the emphasis she placed on a strong work ethic. “I’ve been at it consistently for years. I’ve avoided notice by keeping my winnings to small increments and moving around the globe. Not as glamourous as it sounds, but it pays the bills.”

  “That’s what you’ve been doing?” Her eyes widened. “Not loafing? Working!”

  “I have. My grand scheme was to make enough I could ask for this.” He took her hand again, kissing her palm. “And only this. I never wanted you to think I was after your money.”

  She wiped away her tears. “Now look what you’ve done. I was all geared up to give you a piece of my mind.”

  “I’d settle for a piece of your heart.”

  “Are you proposing?” Her voice rose an
octave.

  “No. Not yet. Only once I’ve sufficiently proven I can support a wife on my own.”

  God, it could take years before he could accomplish such a feat.

  She waggled her finger at him. “I’m still a little mad at you.”

  “I’m sure I’ve earned your ire.”

  “You should have told me all along. I don’t care you and Neville aren’t rich.”

  “You might not care, but I doubt very much we could have convinced you we weren’t dishonest.”

  “It explains why you felt you had to marry someone from your social class. She would have brought an allowance or another fortune to the marriage.”

  “Or failing that, a woman of means—as my father was quick to point out.” He tightened the grip on her hand. “That’s truly the only reason I haven’t already gotten down on bended knee.”

  Her small laugh gave him a glimmer of hope. “We’ve known each other, what, two weeks? And you feel you’re late with the proposal.”

  “What can I say? My uncle and I know a good thing when we see it.”

  Diana’s shoulders rose to her ears. “Where do we go from here? We each have families to support. Careers that take us to different places.”

  Andrew pulled Diana from her seat. “Run away with me. Forget everything and everyone.” He twirled her then caught her in his arms. “To start with, we’ll visit your friend. When we need to replenish funds, we’ll head to Vegas. I’ll work, and you can lounge by the pool.”

  “You’re crazy.” She swatted his arm. “That’s no way to live.”

  “Why not? I’ve been doing it since university. Now I’ll have company. And inspiration.”

  “What about my businesses? Our families? You’re saying we should cut them off?”

  “Just until we have a better plan. Your shops are already well managed, and Jasmine is fully capable of running Greenbrier.”

  Diana tilted her chin. “Who’ll run my mama?”

  “It’s time we both cut the apron strings, as it were. Neville and Jackie have each other now. I plan to have a conversation with my uncle regarding his renovation plans. His promises to Jackie regarding her new living quarters at Chatham Park will have to be revised.” Andrew couldn’t resist a taste of her lips. “I’ll have more pressing matters to attend to than honoring his promises.”

  She didn’t exactly pull away from his kisses. More on the order of offering other parts of her face while she continued with her questions. “And your parents? Aren’t they also dependent on your income?”

  “They are, but they’re simply going to have to get jobs. Like the rest of us.”

  So far, Diana approved of Andrew’s line of thinking. Except for the part where she laid poolside while he did all the work. A seedling concept took root watered by fresh optimism and hope. “I have the perfect jobs for them.”

  “Just like that? You’re brilliant as well as beautiful.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But I knew that from the moment I rescued you from the baggage carousel. Let’s hear it.”

  “Your mother grew up at Chatham Park, right?”

  “She did.”

  “And going by the rehearsal dinner, I gather your father is a wine aficionado.”

  “I’d call him a wine snob, but your way sounds nicer.”

  “Then let’s put those skills to good use at Chatham Park. Lady Somerset can give guided tours and Lord Somerset can oversee wine tastings.”

  Her mind raced with possibilities. She loved conceptualizing new business schemes and playing an important role in helping Andrew made the prospects all the sweeter. “Beyond that, I’ll study the market to see what’s missing in the area. Wedding venue. Spa. Boutique Hotel. Luxury gardens. The avenues are endless. The economy is stronger now, so I don’t see why your family home can’t be as successful as mine. All it takes is time and an investment of capital.”

  “Sounds brilliant except for the last part. I’ve been working for years and can only keep our heads above water.”

  “That’s why you need my money.” She tapped her lips, mentally calculating which investments to pull from to get the cash. “I’m prepared to invest a minimum of a million. To start. It will likely take more, but that’s enough to get the ball rolling. Architectural drawings, licenses and a proper business plan, then we’ll see where we are.”

  “Hold up.” Andrew took her by the shoulders, turning her face to meet his gaze. “This is exactly the argument I had with my father. Why I said I didn’t want to marry you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. Enough was enough. “You have your damn pride.”

  “Look where it’s gotten me.” He kissed her light and quick. “I accept. I’ve had to manage things on my own for so long, I’m afraid I’m not very good at accepting help.”

  “We’re both alike in that way. Cussedly independent.”

  “Bloody hell, can you imagine what our children will be like?”

  Yes, I can. The heir, the spare, and the spare, spare.

  “With your good looks and my sense of style, they’ll be the beaus of every barbeque in Mississippi.”

  Andrew kissed her again, this time letting lingering, and through their touching lips he said, “or the belles of Britain.”

  Diana and Andrew didn’t make it to Portland to visit her friend. Neither did they go to Las Vegas or even Biloxi. Instead, they spent the next six months at Greenbrier getting Mama divorced then finally married to Neville, handing over the B&B reins to Jasmine, and creating a plan for Chatham Park.

  Unfortunately, they lost a year to a scheme that never quite got off the ground. Tea and Tours had fundamental issues. Every down-on-his-heels lord was running a tea shop out of his kitchen, so it was difficult to stand out. Also, as it turned out, they had personnel difficulties. Lord and Lady Somerset had a low tolerance for getting up before noon and patiently handling customers.

  However, the second concept was the charm. On an especially rainy weekend, while Diana was inspecting Uncle Neville’s extensive library, she discovered a number of old and rare manuscripts. She dug deeper and found more. While Effingham bank accounts might have been dwindling, it seemed the previous several dukes had a talent for collecting artifacts, small obscure paintings, and other literary works. An idea sparked, and thus the Duke of Effingham Center for Renaissance Research and Revival was born.

  Hardly a weekend passed when the estate wasn’t filled with academics and hobbyists paying handsomely for the privilege of viewing the collection or dressed in period costumes jousting, drinking mead, or recreating some aspect of the age.

  Except for this weekend when Chatham Park was closed to the public for the marriage of Andrew David Neville Montgomery, Viscount Farthingworth, to Miss Diana Frances Curtis.

  Wearing a ivory satin gown, Diana gazed out the window of her mama’s suite of rooms. Rooms which had been beautifully, yet modestly, refurbished. The mid-June day was as free from rain as Mama’s wedding days had had in abundance. A carriage and four white horses waited to take the bride to meet the man who held her heart.

  The one who kept texting her every five minutes.

  Did he think at this point I’m going to get cold feet?

  She pressed her hand to her middle. Thanks to Andrew’s steadfastness, she no longer needed a ready supply of antacids. No, a very wonderful surprise would join them in seven months. Diana could hardly wait to meet their little prince or princess.

  “Quit daydreaming, girl. Time to shake a leg,” Jasmine said. She and her family had made the trip across the pond. The new President of Greenbrier Enterprises would act as her matron of honor, while Master Sergeant Wesley Doss would accompany Diana down the church’s aisle.

  She tore herself from the view. “I was just wondering if the caterers had iced enough champagne.” Not really. Diana was thinking of the weekend honeymoon to London. Two whole days completely alone with Andrew.

  Mama fluttered over. “Let the staff worry about details.” She held up her prized
possession, one she’d wear every day if Neville hadn’t convinced her otherwise. “Sit down so I can put this on you.”

  The hairdresser had already pinned a veil to the back of her chignon, so all that remained was for Mama to affix the Duchess of Effingham tiara. “Thanks for letting me borrow it, Mama.”

  Jackie beamed. “My pleasure, sugar. After all, it’ll be yours someday.”

  “Not for a very, very long time, I hope, but I’m proud to wear it today.” Not that it held much in the way of monetary value. The library wasn’t the only thing Diana had inspected. That sapphire broach Andrew’s mom gave Jackie: only two of the stones were real. The filigreed crown made of pearls and “diamonds”: only the smallest stones had been left unpilfered.

  Mama’s happy little bubble didn’t need pricking, and the long-ago swap didn’t matter to Diana. She really was happy to join this respected and proud family.

  With the tiara in place, Mama fluffed Diana’s veil. A few tears shimmered in the duchess’s eyes. “Are you ready, my dear?”

  “Is Barbie’s ass plastic?”

  The women erupted in a fit of giggles. Just as she’d hoped. Mama wasn’t the only one fighting the tears.

  Jasmine wagged her finger at Diana. “You’re going to have to give up your southern sayings when you become Andrew’s viscountess.”

  “Never! He loves me just as I am.”

  That she knew to the bottom of her fancy new shoes, which held a brand new sixpence. An English wedding tradition. At the church, the combination of the stately stone and beautiful music brought solemnity and a sense of history to the day. And Wes Sr. handing her off with a kiss on the cheek did make her miss Granddaddy Dansfield.

  Then Andrew took her hand, and all else faded away. “You are beautiful. I’m the luckiest man alive,” he whispered in a voice thick with emotion.

  The ornately robed vicar stepped forward. “Dearly Beloved…” He continued with his opening remarks while Diana’s emotions bubbled just under the surface.

  Love, joy, anticipation had her pulse racing.

  “If any here can give just cause why these two should not be lawfully joined together in holy wedlock, speak now or forever hold your peace.”