The Gentleman's Scandalous Bride

by Lauren Royal

  “I cannot,” he interrupted. “I won’t buy my sister’s love.”

  Rose held her tongue as they walked, listening to the sounds of horses clopping past, children playing chase, and a woman in one of the tall houses scolding her poor sod of a husband.

  After a while, Kit sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you for trying.”

  “There’s no need for thanks,” she said softly.

  She hadn’t tried hard enough. Someway, somehow, she would come up with a plan to get these two to make up.

  Kit had witnessed his sister’s wedding, and Ellen would be there for his.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  “ROWAN, WAKE up!” Back at Trentingham three days later, Rose shook her brother’s bony ten-year-old shoulder. “Wake up!”

  He stretched and yawned, opened his eyes, then promptly closed them. “It’s still night.”

  “But it’s almost morning. And I need you to do me a favor.”

  He rolled over, presenting her with his back. “What?”

  “I want you to pretend to be ill.” She tousled his wavy black hair. “It could be fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “Mum will take care of you.” She sat on his blue-draped oak bed. “She’ll bring you treats and sit and play cards.”

  “No, she won’t.” With a groan, he turned to face her. “She’s taking you to London today, remember? To fetch your wedding gown. Being ill alone is no fun at all.”

  “She’d never leave you ill. You’re her precious baby.” When he grimaced, she rushed on. “I’ll pay you.”

  He sat up. “How much?”

  “A shilling.”

  He made a rude noise.

  “Very well, then, a crown.”

  “Maybe.” At last Rowan looked interested—but skeptical, too. Rose’s brother was no half-wit. “I still think Mum will want to go with you to London…” His green eyes narrowed. “You don’t want her to go with you, do you? Why don’t you want her to go with you?”

  “Never mind why. Will you do this for me or not? A crown, Rowan. A nice, shiny—”

  “She won’t let you go alone.”

  “I’ll take Violet, then. And Lily, too, if Mum insists—she’s at Hawkridge at the moment, and it’s right on the way. Will you do it?” He still looked hesitant, blast him. “Think of it as a practical joke,” she added, grasping at straws.

  “A practical joke?” He perked up. He’d loved practical jokes ever since his little friend Jewel, Ford’s niece, had played one on him four years ago. In fact, they hadn’t been friends at all until the girl had humiliated him with that prank. Rose had never been able to figure that out.

  But she wasn’t averse to using it to her advantage. “Yes, a practical joke. Jewel will be so jealous when you tell her all about it at my wedding.”

  “What will I have to do?”

  “Hardly anything.” She moved aside, revealing the items she’d arranged on his bedside table. “I brought powder to make your face pale—”

  “Cosmetics?”

  “Just a little. You can run around the room till you’re all hot and sweaty. Then jump back into bed, I’ll fluff a little powder on, and we’ll put a hot cloth on your forehead.” She gestured to the bowl of steaming water she’d brought with her.

  “I can moan a lot,” he suggested with a grin.

  “Excellent. I’ll hide everything beneath your bed. Then when Mum comes in you’ll be all hot and feverish and moaning and groaning…she won’t want to leave you, I’m sure.”

  His eyes brightened with the thrill of conspiracy. “Can I puke?”

  She winced. ”You can make yourself puke?” She wondered if that was an entirely healthful idea. “Never mind, I’m sure that won’t be—”

  “For two crowns, I’ll puke,” he said. “Bring me some food.”

  SIXTY-NINE

  IN MADAME Beaumont’s London shop, Rose twirled in the red satin gown.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Lily breathed. “Whoever would have imagined red for a wedding?”

  “Perfect,” Madame Beaumont said in her fashionable French accent—never mind the seventeen years she’d lived here since the Restoration. She waved one arm in an expansive fashionable French gesture. “Absolument parfait.”

  The gown had a scooped neckline and full three-quarter sleeves from which a froth of fine white Brussels lace spilled to Rose’s wrists. The underskirt and stomacher were both embroidered with thousands of seed pearls in scrolled designs, and the overskirt had love-knots all over it—small satin bows, loosely sewn so they could be torn off by the guests after the ceremony and taken home as favors.

  “I can imagine red,” Violet said in her practical way, “but what I cannot imagine is Mum allowing you to retrieve this gown without her.”

  Rose turned so Madame could detach the stomacher. “Rowan was very ill. She’d seen the gown already for three fittings. And it’s not as though I had to come alone. I have you two.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

  Violet snorted. “This is the time third time this month you’ve dragged me away from Lakefield. Ford is going to be very relieved when you’re finally married.”

  “Rand, too,” Lily put in. “He had to travel back to Oxford all by himself.”

  “Gemini, he’s a grown man.” Rose carefully stepped out of the gown. “Besides, at least one of our recent adventures involved you two doing the dragging.”

  “You didn’t give us any choice,” Violet retorted.

  Unusually for her, Rose held her tongue. She was truly grateful to her sisters for forcing her to confront Kit. If it weren’t for them, she might never have had a chance to wear her exquisite wedding gown.

  Minutes later, a footman carried the boxed garment to the Trentingham carriage. “The Strand,” Rose told the driver.

  “If you wish to visit the shops,” Lily said, scooping up her cat as she climbed in, “the Royal Exchange would be better.”

  Rose pulled a scrap of paper from her purse to check the name and direction. “I wish to visit Abrahamson & Company, the Strand near Charing Cross.”

  When the door shut behind them, Violet snatched the paper out of her hand. “Goldsmiths? You want to buy some jewelry?”

  “No. Mr. Abrahamson has my money.”

  “I knew that name was familiar.” Lily stroked her cat. “He’s the man Father sent a letter to when I needed my inheritance.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Violet focused on Rose. “Why do you want money?”

  “It’s my money. Does it matter?”

  Violet and Lily shared a look but dropped the subject until a while later, when Rose came out of the goldsmith’s shop with a bag so heavy she could barely support its weight. She climbed back into the carriage and dropped it to the floorboards with a thud, dropping herself onto the bench seat with a “Whew.”

  “How much money is that?” Lily asked.

  Rose ignored the question, instead looking to the footman. “Windsor,” she ordered.

  “Windsor?” Violet’s jaw dropped open. “You told Mum we would stay at the town house tonight. I heard you with my own ears.”

  “Well, I wasn’t about to tell her we’re spending the night at Kit’s house.” She hadn’t planned to from the outset, but when the combination of Rowan’s deception and collecting her sisters resulted in a late start that would make an overnight stay necessary, it had occurred to her that she could spend another night at Kit’s house and enjoy more of his kisses.

  An unexpected bonus, and one to which she was very much looking forward.

  “Windsor,” she repeated, settling back as the footman closed the door. It would be a lengthy ride, but toward Trentingham, after all, so her sisters had no real reason to protest. They’d arrive at their respective homes earlier tomorrow than if they’d stayed the night in London.

  Lily toed the heavy bag with one red-heeled shoe. “How much money?”

  There was no point in lying. “A thousand pounds. Do you know, I had no id
ea how heavy—”

  “A thousand pounds?” Violet’s eyes widened behind her spectacles. “Faith. Whatever will you do with all that money?”

  “I’m giving it to Ellen. Kit’s sister.”

  “What?” both her sisters burst out. The cat jumped from Lily’s lap and cowered under a bench seat.

  “I’d planned to give Ellen all ten thousand, but the goldsmith convinced me it would be too much to carry.” Rose rolled her shoulders, still feeling the strain. “So I’m giving her just the thousand with a note from Mr. Abrahamson promising the rest is forthcoming.”

  Violet slumped against the coach wall. “You’re giving Ellen Martyn ten thousand pounds.”

  “Ellen Whittingham. And I’m telling her it’s from Kit. At least I hope she’ll believe it’s from Kit. He had promised her eleven—”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Lily interrupted.

  “Yes,” Violet snapped at the same time Rose said, “No.”

  “It’s Kit and Ellen who’ve lost their minds,” she continued and proceeded to tell her sisters the long, sad story. “She didn’t even want Kit to know about the babe,” she concluded. “I told Kit her pregnancy may be affecting her brain, but—”

  Violet shook her head. “I never felt better than when I was carrying my children.”

  “Not everyone is so lucky,” Lily put in. “Rand’s foster sister Margery is with child, and lately she’s been at sixes and sevens. Practically forgets her own name, the poor thing.”

  “Have you considered,” Violet said to Rose, “that Ellen might simply be a spoiled brat?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. But she has her reasons for feeling the way she does. Reasons I sympathize with.”

  Violet took off her spectacles and polished them on her skirts. “And you believe Kit is totally blameless in this?”

  “Of course he isn’t. In his own way he’s as stubborn as his sister. But I cannot blame him for the way he feels, either. Nor can I stand to see him so unhappy. It’s like a dark cloud hanging over my wedding. The only way to solve this is to give Ellen my inheritance and make her think the money came from Kit. Then she’ll talk to him and everyone will be happy.”

  Lily scooped up the cat again. “But you’ll have given up your inheritance!”

  “Don’t be a goose. Kit will replace it. If Ellen would only speak to him again, he’d be happy enough to hand over her dowry.”

  “Has he said so?”

  “Not in so many words. But I know him,” she added, lifting her chin.

  “You’re certain you know him?” The cat let out a pathetic meow as Lily clutched it tighter. “You haven’t lived with him for even a single day. Goodness, I’ve been married to Rand for nearly two months now, and he surprises me all the time.”

  Violet slid her spectacles back on. “I’ve been living with Ford for four years, and sometimes I still wonder—”

  “I know Kit,” Rose repeated, “and there’s no chance he meant to keep that money from his sister forever. It doesn’t signify whether the ten thousand pounds was mine or his to begin with. It will be ours soon enough either way.”

  “It signifies,” Lily argued. “Unlike a dowry that becomes your husband’s upon marriage, according to Grandpapa’s will that money is yours to control. Not many women have the advantage of their own funds. By handing it over to Ellen, you’re giving that up. You and Kit may have the same amount of money combined, but none of it will be under your control.”

  “I don’t care. This is more important to me.” Rose forced herself to calm. Her sisters were only trying to help, no matter that they were wrong this time. “Kit and Ellen aren’t speaking, and both of them are miserable. And they’re the only family either of them has…can you imagine one of us missing the other’s wedding?”

  Her sisters seemed to consider that a moment, then Violet tried another tack. “Have you told Mum and Father what you’re doing?”

  Rose remained quiet.

  “Of course she hasn’t,” Lily said. “They would never in a million years agree.”

  “I’ve no need of their permission. I’m nineteen. The money is legally mine.”

  “But you knew you would have had an argument, didn’t you?” Lily’s blue eyes lit with sudden understanding. “That’s why we’re here with you instead of Mum, isn’t it? I’d wager Rowan isn’t even ill. How can you live with yourself, scheming behind your own mother’s back?”

  Rose’s lips thinned. “She schemed behind all of our backs, as you well know,” she pointed out. “I’d rather scheme than have my sister-in-law refuse to attend our wedding. If that happens, Kit may never forgive her.”

  “Has it occurred to you,” Violet asked with concern, “that Kit might never forgive you for meddling in his affairs? Isn’t this rather similar to Mum’s antics that so angered you?”

  “No!” Rose exclaimed, though she was taken aback for a moment. “That was different. Mum was manipulating my relationship, while I’m simply…” Rose swallowed. “Well, anyway I’ve forgiven her, haven’t I?” That was mostly true. The two of them had a fragile truce, and Rose was attending family meals again. “If Kit is even upset by this, he will forgive me, too.”

  “You don’t know that for sure—”

  “I do.” This discussion was going nowhere, and Rose was finished with it. “What is it with all this traffic?” she asked, glaring out the window. “At this rate, my wedding day will arrive before we even get out of London.”

  “Excellent attempt at changing the subject—” Violet started.

  “No,” Lily interrupted. “Something is going on.”

  The carriage hadn’t budged in the last ten minutes. Since they weren’t going anywhere anyway, they all climbed out.

  “William and Mary,” Rose breathed. “The royal wedding! I’d completely forgotten that today is the fourth of November.”

  William of Orange and King Charles’s niece, Mary, rode in an open carriage down the Strand on their way to St. James’s Palace. Caught in the crush, Rose and her sisters were swept into the swarm of citizens lining the streets, waving and cheering as William and Mary approached.

  “Everyone seems so happy to see them wed,” Lily remarked, holding onto her cat for dear life.

  “She’s a Protestant,” Rose said. “Charles is no fool. He has no legitimate heirs, and he knows the people don’t want to see his Catholic brother James on the throne. He’s wise to marry James’s daughter to a Protestant prince like William of Orange.”

  “When did you become so wise?” Violet asked.

  Rose lifted her chin. “Just because I don’t bury my nose in books about the past doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of the present. This marriage made for much court gossip. Besides”—she shrugged and cracked a droll smile—“I vow and swear, there was little to do at court in the daytime besides read newsheets.”

  The happy roar swelled as the bride and groom drew closer. But Mary didn’t look happy at all. In fact, as she rode by in the royal carriage, wearing a magnificent blue and gold gown and waving to the people, she looked ready to burst into tears.

  “How old is she?” Lily asked.

  “Fifteen. And William is twenty-seven.” Twenty-seven and short with stooped shoulders, bad teeth, and a large, beaked nose. Rose wouldn’t want to marry him, either. Her heart went out to the poor princess.

  How lucky Rose was to be marrying a man she truly loved. She could hardly wait for her own wedding just five days away. And she knew Kit felt the same.

  Of course, that was assuming he wouldn’t be angry she’d forced matters with Ellen. Violet’s question kept rattling in her brain.

  Has it occurred to you that Kit might never forgive you for meddling in his affairs?

  But with the wedding so close, she couldn’t allow this brother–sister standoff to continue. Not when there was a way to fix it. Standing by meekly was simply not in her nature.

  Kit wouldn’t be angry; he’d understand why she’d had to act, and h
e’d be grateful for the result. She knew him well enough to know that.

  Didn’t she?

  SEVENTY

  WITH ALL THE excitement and delay caused by the royal wedding, night was falling by the time Rose and her sisters reached Windsor and the carriage jerked to a stop in front of the pawnshop.

  Rose roused herself from a doze and climbed down, then turned back when nobody seemed to be following her. Shivering in the cold night air, she stuck her head through the open doorway of the vehicle. “Aren’t you two going to come with me?”

  Her sisters looked at each other. “I think not,” Lily said for them both.

  “We don’t choose to be part of this insanity,” Violet elaborated.

  “Oh, do hush up,” Rose said. Obviously they didn’t appreciate her roping them into her plot, but she couldn’t have simply gallivanted about England alone. This was the sort of thing sisters were for, wasn’t it?

  And she’d done some thinking on the way here to Windsor.

  She clutched her cloak tighter around herself. “Do you know,” she told Violet, “I seem to remember you meddling in Ford’s affairs. For heaven’s sake, you patented and sold his invention without his knowledge; you secretly bought that book, thereby giving him your money—giving him your inheritance, Violet, hmm?—without him knowing—”

  “It’s not comparable,” Lily cut in. “She gave the money to Ford, the man she was planning to marry. You’re giving yours to Ellen.”

  Rose turned on her. “And you gave up control of your own money, too, to Rand’s father. Quite willingly, if I remember right.”

  “That’s not comparable, either. It was the only way I could marry Rand.”

  “I see. Speaking of Rand…wasn’t Rand the one who came to Violet with the plan to secretly save Ford’s estate? It seems to me he’s not averse to a little manipulation for a good cause. Are you telling me Rand would leave you if you meddled in his business?”