The Gentleman's Scandalous Bride

by Lauren Royal

  Right after she told them the wedding was off.

  When a little sniffle drew her out of her vengeful reverie, she looked up to see a tear sliding down Violet’s cheek.

  “Oh, please don’t cry.” Rose moved across the carriage to sit beside her sister. She patted Violet’s shoulder a bit awkwardly, having never been especially good at comforting. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.” When Violet didn’t react, she began feeling desperate. “You can come back to live at Trentingham, you know. And the children, too. There’s plenty of room for every—oh, wait!” Rose smacked herself on the forehead. “Mum lives there. That’ll never do.” She thought for a moment. “I’ve got it: We’ll live off my inheritance. We’ll buy a lovely house of our own and live there together, raising the little ones and doing just as we please—”

  “Wh-what?” Finally showing signs of life, Violet looked completely baffled. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “You’ll have to go somewhere when you leave Ford.” Rose took her sister’s hand. “It might be hard at first, but I’ll take care of you, Violet. We can live quite comfortably on the interest from ten thousand pounds. I’ll even help with the children—in fact, I’d love to, seeing as I’ll never have any of my own.”

  “Never have…?” Violet appeared more confused than ever. “You and Kit aren’t planning to have children?”

  Rose gave a bark of laughter. “Gemini, I’m not marrying Kit! I’m not marrying anybody. I wanted to marry a decent man, but now I see my mistake—there are no decent men.”

  “Oh, Rose, that’s not true. Kit’s a good man, and he loves you. He made a mistake, that’s all. Let’s get you back to Trentingham for a good night’s rest, and this will all look different in the morning.”

  Rose pulled a face. “Mum is at Trentingham, and I don’t want to see her, given that I’m never speaking to her again. Perhaps I could come with you to Lakefield? Although that might be a bit uncomfortable, seeing as you’re leaving Ford—”

  “I am not leaving Ford!” Violet shrieked. Shocked into silence, Rose held her tongue while her sister took several calming breaths. “Listen to me, Rose. I know you’re angry. I’m angry, too. But I’m not leaving my husband, and you’re not jilting Kit.”

  “So you’ll just forgive him?” Rose retorted. “After he kept this secret from you every day of your marriage?”

  Her sister winced. “No, I will not just forgive him. I cannot. I’m too hurt and too furious. Ford will learn what his mistakes have wrought…and he will regret them.” Hearing Violet’s tone, Rose almost felt sorry for the target of her sister’s displeasure. “Healing broken trust takes time and effort. But at the end of all that, yes, I will forgive him.”

  “Why should you?”

  “Because we’re a family.”

  A jounce of the carriage suddenly sent the sisters careening into each other. “Perhaps you must forgive him, then,” Rose said once she’d righted herself. “But I don’t think he deserves it. Not after he hurt the woman he’s supposed to love.”

  “Everyone hurts those they love.” Violet massaged a spot where Rose’s elbow had jabbed her. “We’re human, after all. Love is a powerful agent, and we don’t always apply it correctly.”

  “Which philosopher said that?”

  “Me, you goose.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “Save that one for the book you want to publish.”

  But she considered her sister’s words. Everyone hurts those they love. Kit had loved his sister so much, he’d nearly destroyed her happiness. And Ellen had loved Thomas so much, she’d nearly destroyed herself.

  And then there was Mum, who’d loved her daughters so much she’d betrayed them all.

  “I suppose I cannot stay mad at Mum forever,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

  “Indeed,” Violet said. “Though I expect you’ll punish her for a good long while. I certainly plan to.”

  “As you should,” Rose said.

  All at once, she felt incredibly drained.

  Soon after, as the carriage stopped, she felt a hand on her knee. “And Kit?” Violet asked gently.

  “What of him?”

  “Will you stay mad at him forever?”

  “I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” Rose scoffed. “He isn’t family.”

  Violet sought her gaze in the semi-darkness. “He’s family if you love each other.”

  Looking away, Rose studied Lakefield House’s unassuming front gate. Though she’d thought she and Kit were truly in love, had her feelings been manipulated by the clever ploys of a master matchmaker?

  Violet sighed. “Think things through before you make any decisions, will you? And talk to Kit. You need to hear his side of the story.”

  Rose shrugged noncommittally.

  “Be well, sister.” Violet kissed her on the cheek. “And give Mum hell for me.”

  SIXTY-THREE

  IT WAS MID-morning, and Chrystabel paced her perfumery at Trentingham. On occasion she’d pause, select a vial at random, and inhale its potent fragrance. This would quiet her mind for approximately half a second, before it galloped off again in a dozen different directions.

  “Mum?”

  At the sound of Lily’s voice, she turned and seized her youngest daughter in an uncharacteristically fierce hug. “I didn’t hear you arrive.”

  Lily pulled back. “Goodness, Mum, you look—” Stopping abruptly, she sucked in her cheeks. It was the expression she wore when she’d almost said something unkind.

  Determined to maintain her composure in front of her child, Chrystabel forced a laugh. “I dare say I’ve looked better.” That was an understatement. She hardly knew what she’d put on this morning, and poor Anne had been in fits trying to keep her still long enough to fix her hair.

  “That’s not what I meant. You just look tense.”

  “Well, you look stunning, dear. Thank you for coming.”

  Heaven knew Chrystabel was tense. Rose’s future happiness hung in the balance, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to help.

  She hated feeling powerless almost as much as she hated causing her daughter pain.

  “How is she?” Lily asked, nodding in the general direction of Rose’s bedchamber.

  “I can only guess.” A week had passed since the evening Rose had arrived home from Oxford, full of trembling outrage and bitter recriminations. It was a week Chrystabel had spent in knots, but she knew her daughter well enough to know when she needed solitude. “Most days she stays at Lakefield through supper, or else she has her meals fetched to her room. Though Mrs. Crump tells me the plates come back untouched.”

  Lily touched her arm. “Rose will come around. I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her she needs to forgive you.”

  “You’re sweet for offering, dear.” Especially if—as Chrystabel suspected—Lily was still vexed with her mother, too. Her daughter’s capacity for kindness never ceased to amaze her. “But I was actually hoping you’d talk to her about Kit.”

  Lily blanched. “She hasn’t called off the wedding, has she? B-because of what I told her?”

  “No! At least, I haven’t been asked to stop planning it.” Though in truth Chrystabel feared the worst, for now she left it at that. She couldn’t bear her daughter’s guilt-stricken expression. None of this was Lily’s fault.

  It was nobody’s fault but Chrystabel’s. She’d been careless and overconfident, and now her girls were paying the price. She should have realized they’d be smart enough to put the pieces together. She should have done a better job covering her tracks. But she hadn’t, and now disaster had struck.

  She’d hoped her daughters would never discover the truth. Though she’d acted out of love, she’d always known that learning their mother had defied their wishes and schemed behind their backs would bring them pain and confusion. Not to mention send tremors through their blissful marriages, disturbing the happiness Chrystabel had worked so hard to help them secure.

  But her clever girls had figured
it out—and at the worst possible time. Emotional, headstrong Rose had only just fallen in love. Her bond with Kit was still new and fragile. Fragile enough, perhaps, that a few tremors could break it.

  Chrystabel couldn’t let that happen, but she couldn’t stop it alone.

  So she was calling in the reinforcements.

  “As far as I’m aware, the wedding is still happening,” she assured Lily. “Violet should know more. She should be here any…ah, there she is!” Through the window, Chrystabel was relieved to see a purple-clad figure dismounting a horse. Her eldest daughter wasn’t speaking to her, but she’d hoped Violet wouldn’t ignore a summons on Rose’s behalf.

  When Violet joined them, she embraced Lily but kept her distance from Chrystabel. “Good morning, Mum,” she said coolly.

  Chrystabel nodded, slightly stung though she’d expected no less. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

  “You said Rose needed me.”

  “It’s about Rose and Kit, actually,” Lily put in.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Violet narrowed her eyes at her mother. “If you mean to involve us in some ill-conceived matchmaking ploy—”

  “I don’t,” Chrystabel said. “I’m out of the daughter-matching business.”

  “That’s difficult to believe,” Lily said, her habitual sweetness tempered by a note of steel. It was a recent development that made Chrystabel want to beam with pride. Her youngest daughter was no longer such an appeaser—since finding Rand, she’d also found her spine.

  But Chrystabel had meant what she’d said. Having seen the harm she’d caused Violet, Rose, and Lily, she knew interfering further would only lead to more heartache. She couldn’t fool her daughters anymore. She could no longer protect them from their mistakes. When she’d said she was out of the daughter-matching business, she’d meant it.

  After all, her last child was a son.

  “I understand why you feel that way,” she told Lily. “And I understand why you three are angry with me. If my mother had tried using trickery to influence my choice of a husband, I would have been just as angry with her.”

  Of course, her mother had been a distant, neglectful sort of parent who would have chosen entirely wrong.

  “I owe you girls an apology.” Chrystabel selected another oil from her collection as a pretense for sneaking a peek at her daughters’ faces. They looked appropriately stunned. She chose her next words with great care. “I’m so very sorry, my loves. I’m sorry for lying to you, for influencing you against your wishes, and for everything you’ve suffered because of me. I wish things had happened differently.”

  There. She’d given an honest, heartfelt apology, and she’d meant every word. She was genuinely sorry for being dishonest and overbearing, and especially for causing distress.

  But she hadn’t said she regretted it.

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me yet. I just want you to know that I’ve learned my lesson.” Her fingers curled around the glass vial. “I will not be interfering in Rose and Kit’s relationship again.”

  Violet’s mouth dropped open. “You don’t wish them to reconcile?”

  Chrystabel’s heart skittered at the confirmation of her fears. Please, dear Rose, don’t let love slip away. “I do wish for that, very much. I still think they belong together.”

  Lily tilted her head. “Even though Kit deceived her?”

  “He didn’t want to,” Chrystabel admitted, fiddling with the vial. “He was quite resistant to the idea, in fact. I’m afraid I rather ambushed him to force his cooperation.” Though her words were matter-of-fact, she had the grace to blush.

  Strong-arming Kit was another deed she lamented…but didn’t regret.

  “Still, as I said, I’m finished meddling in their concerns.” Chrystabel put a touch of emphasis on her next words. “If those two are to reunite, they shall have to do so without my help.”

  Violet and Lily exchanged a look.

  Deciding they needed a moment, Chrystabel turned to her work table and busied herself unstoppering the vial in her hand. When the cork came free, she inhaled rose oil. Not the cloying-sweet scent of Maiden’s Blush—the dainty white rose after which Joseph had named their second baby girl—but the essence of Damask roses. A strongly floral fragrance, its source had bold red flowers with delicate petals guarded by stout prickles and curved spines.

  When her daughters finished their whispered conference, Violet spoke for them both. “We appreciate the apology, Mum. I believe it may be your first,” she added dryly.

  Chrystabel turned to see both her daughters heading for the door. “If you’ll excuse us,” Lily said over her shoulder, “we’d like to visit with Rose.”

  Once they were gone, Chrystabel heaved a sigh of satisfaction. Her stomach unknotted itself for the first time in a week.

  They’d got the message.

  And though she wished with all her heart she could come to Rose’s rescue, she knew compassionate Lily and sensible Violet were more than up to the task. Much as it pained her to admit, her beautiful, extraordinary daughters had grown up. They didn’t need their mother holding their hands anymore. They could take care of each other.

  But Chrystabel would always be there, just in case.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  ROSE RUBBED HER temples. “I don’t really see your point.”

  “My point is that Kit deserves a chance to tell his side of the story.” Perched on the edge of Rose’s bed, Lily was round-eyed and earnest. “We all know how persuasive Mum can be.”

  “The woman could charm the spots off a leopard,” Violet put in, rummaging through the chest at the foot of the bed.

  Lying on the bed, Rose merely grunted.

  Lily’s brows drew together. “You’ve been dithering a whole week, Rose. It isn’t like you to hide.”

  “I’m neither dithering nor hiding. I’m thinking.”

  Violet snorted. “You’ve done enough thinking.” She transferred an extra chemise and stockings to Rose’s traveling case. “It’s time to try talking.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “You must!” Violet left off packing to join her sisters on the bed. “For pity’s sake, it’s only eight days until the wedding.”

  “And so it is.” Though Rose saw her sisters exchange a look, she said no more, toying with the tassels on her bed hangings.

  As her wedding day loomed closer, the turmoil inside her was mounting. She couldn’t ignore the misgivings that plagued her…but nor could she help loving Kit. What she craved was that sense of rightness, that peaceful certainty she’d felt the day of their betrothal. Now everything felt confusing and wrong.

  “Well?” Violet finally prompted.

  Rose looked to her with studied innocence. “Well what?”

  “Well,” Lily burst out, making Rose jump, “are you still getting married?”

  “Gemini, I don’t know!” Fed up with their pestering, she rolled over and jammed a pillow over her head.

  “Which is precisely why you must talk to him,” came Violet’s muffled retort. The thump of her feet hitting the floor underscored her resolve. “Harriet!”

  While the maid finished packing Rose’s case, Lily ventured forth to procure dinner for their journey and tell Mum they were going to Oxford for a sleeping party. A little fib that proved to Rose just how much her younger sister had changed. Or maybe just how much she was miffed with Mum.

  Meanwhile, Violet hauled Rose out of bed and helped her dress. Taking extra care with her appearance, they selected a new gown of lustrous silk taffeta in a red hue so deep it was almost black. Her hair was swept up but for a few sultry tendrils framing her face, and she wore the earrings the duke had given her, knowing that would raise Kit’s hackles.

  The journey was surprisingly pleasant, whiled away in cozy, sisterly talk over cold chicken, fruit, and fresh bread. Gleeful griping over Mum relieved some of their angst, which eventually gave way to more earnest discourse. Violet confided that she and her husband we
re still somewhat at odds, though their quarreling had given way to civilized debate—which apparently, in the case of Violet’s marriage, was a necessary and promising development. Rose took her word for it.

  Newlywed Lily confessed to a lingering unease. “It’s not that I’m questioning whether we belong together,” she mused aloud, tracing the scars on the back her hand, “but I can’t help wondering what would have happened if Mum hadn’t intervened. Would we have found each other on our own? Would we still have fallen in love?”

  Rose stayed guiltily silent, knowing she herself had been an obstacle to her sister’s relationship.

  Violet wiped strawberry juice from her lips. “I know what you mean. It feels like my connection with Ford was engineered by Mum, rather than having arisen naturally between the two of us. It doesn’t make it any less real, but it does change one’s perspective on things.”

  “Exactly.” Lily took a strawberry and offered the last one to Rose. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been determined to keep Mum out of my love life, and now I find out my grand romance was just another one of her projects. I know it’s silly, but it somehow feels less special.”

  “The feeling will pass,” Violet soothed. “The bond itself is what’s special, not the story behind it. Besides, I’m certain you and Rand would have got together on your own—faith, the poor fellow had already been in love with you for years! Mum’s machinations only sped things up.”

  Rose’s strawberry tasted sour. Would she and Kit have fallen in love on their own? If Mum hadn’t dragged her to see his house, where they first got to know each other and became friends? If Mum hadn’t—as Rose suspected—arranged all those late-night rendezvous at court, when Kit had seemed to appear like magic whenever Rose needed him? If Mum hadn’t brought her to court in the first place?

  Swallowing with difficulty, she answered herself: Not a chance.

  So what did that say about her and Kit?