Always the Best Friend (Never the Bride Book 4)

by Emily E K Murdoch

  Josiah was staring at them, a crease on his forehead. Monty almost laughed aloud at the concern so evidently radiating from his face. It was undoubtedly burning Josiah up, not knowing exactly what this rather public meeting was all about, but he was hardly going to draw attention to himself and them, potentially endangering his sister’s reputation even further, by making a scene.

  No, this all had to be done carefully, or there was no point in doing it at all.

  “And what,” Josiah said abruptly as they reached them and bowed to the company, “is all this about?”

  Honora placed a gentle hand on his arm but did not speak. Josiah glared, eyes narrowed, but they slowly relaxed, and with a look, all the anger disappeared. Honora’s smile widened, and she gave a slight nod.

  Josiah swallowed and turned back to Monty. “Well? Everything settled?”

  Harry nodded. “Yes, ’tis all settled. After much consideration and discussion,” and she glared at Monty mockingly, “we have agreed we are best friends, and we always have been. And always will.”

  Josiah’s face moved from his sister to Monty, who nodded.

  “Of course, after everything that has happened between us,” he added helpfully as the hustle and bustle of the crowd continued around them, “we have agreed our friendship will have a few changes. Some…benefits, I suppose you would say. But all has been agreed.”

  Josiah’s eyes narrowed once more.

  Letitia had been silent until this point, which did not surprise Monty in the slightest. What did surprise him was the way she exchanged a rather worried look with Honora, then looked back at them shyly.

  “Harry,” she said quietly, as though she was afraid she would be censured for speaking out of turn. “What…what benefits, exactly?”

  Harry’s eyes sparkled as she said calmly, “Making love at least twice a week, I think we agreed on.”

  There was a strangled yelp from the vicinity of Josiah, but Monty ignored it. “Unless one of us is unwell, naturally.”

  “Oh, naturally,” Harry said cheerfully. “I mean, we are not unreasonable.”

  Monty laughed. “I should think not. The last thing we want to be is unreasonable. So, there you have it, twice a week.”

  He risked a look at Josiah, who looked so appalled he may be sick. Letitia had gone pale and matched her white gown, while Honora was evidently trying to keep her face straight and not smile.

  The awkward silence lasted longer than Monty was expecting, but he knew exactly who would break it.

  Harry burst out into giggles. “Oh, Josiah, if you could see your—”

  “Excuse me.” It was a stranger’s voice. “Excuse me, I could not help but overhear what you were saying.”

  Mrs. Bryant, resplendent in a crimson gown with more feathers in her hair than it looked like her neck could support, bustled from her companions and forced her way into the group.

  “I bet you could,” Monty heard Harry mutter.

  He had to stifle a laugh. It was so perfect, he could not have planned it better. With Harry by his side, there was nothing this awful woman could do to him now.

  “Am I to understand,” said Mrs. Bryant slowly, as though speaking to children, “that the two of you…together you are…”

  It did not appear she was able speak the last word, and eventually, she gave up and mouthed the word ‘lovers.’

  Harry blinked. “I am sorry, Mrs. Bryant. I do not understand you.”

  Mrs. Bryant glared, and at Monty for good measure. “Do not be smart with me, girl, I make and break reputations, as you well know. This cannot be right, for you would not announce that here. So, what is the true state of affairs between the two of you?”

  Monty glanced at Josiah, who looked as though he was about to explode into an apoplectic rage.

  “Why do you doubt yourself, Mrs. Bryant?” he said hastily, to stop Josiah from reaching out and physically throttling the gossiping matriarch. “You had it right the first time you wrote about us. Harry—that is to say, Lady Harriet Stanhope—and myself are lovers.”

  Mrs. Bryant stared at them with uncontrolled and unabashed astonishment. Her bejeweled hand rose and clutched at her chest as she looked from him to Harry, who was grinning.

  “Ha!” The strangled laughter came from Josiah, and as Monty looked over at him, he saw his friend looked panicked. “What a hilarious joke, Devonshire—why do you not come with me into the card table, I think I saw—”

  His eyes were focused on his sister as he spoke hurriedly, evidently terrified. Harry’s reputation was hanging in tatters as it was. The last thing it needed was for the words ‘lovers’ to be bandied about in front of Mrs. Bryant.

  “Concerned for my reputation, brother?” Harry said shrewdly, ignoring the pointed shakes of the head from her sister-in-law. “Please do not concern yourself. It was my biggest fear, too, that everyone would discover how I loved Monty, and would gladly share his bed. But really, now everyone knows, what else could possibly happen?”

  Honora burst out laughing and clapped her hands over her mouth, but Monty could see her gleeful eyes over the top of them. He could barely stop himself from joining her, but he must be controlled; he must see this through to the end.

  Letitia was staring, absolutely terrified at the responses of the group. The heat of the room certainly appeared to be growing as additional faces, and the dancing in the center of the room went around and around in a dizzying fashion.

  Mrs. Bryant was still patting her chest, staring wildly.

  Monty cleared his throat. “Well, there you have it. We have found each other, best friends all this time, and have an understanding. And we do not care who knows.”

  “Do not care who knows?” Josiah spoke in a strangled voice. “Why not put a goddamn advertisement in the newspaper, why don’t you?”

  “You know, we did not think of that,” Harry said, turning to Monty. “Why did not we think of that? ’Tis an excellent idea.”

  “I will make a note,” said Monty, patting his coat for his pocketbook.

  A quiet, strangled noise came from the vicinity of Mrs. Bryant, who looked as though she was going to collapse.

  “So…so you are in earnest?” she whispered, eyes wide. She looked half amazed, half repulsed. “This is all true?”

  Monty grinned and leaned closer. “It is indeed true, Mrs. Bryant—and if you are not careful, I will come to an arrangement with you, too.”

  It was all too much for Mrs. Bryant.

  She fainted, collapsing into Josiah’s arms. His knees buckled at her dead weight, and he carefully laid her on the floor where Letitia rushed to minister to the poor woman.

  “Christ alive, Devonshire,” he hissed. “What the blazes do you think you’re—”

  Monty smiled sedately. “Oh, I think I forgot to mention Harry has agreed to marry me. Did we forget that bit?”

  Josiah stared blankly as Honora dissolved into giggles.

  “We did forget, didn’t we?” Monty said benignly. “Ah, well. Excellent idea about the advertisement, Chester, thank you. Lady Harriet Stanhope, House of Chester, is engaged to be married to Montague Cavendish—we don’t want to put all my middle names in there, the ad will cost a fortune—Duke of Devonshire. Or do we need to put in parents’ names too? The newspapers always love that. My mother would be thrilled.”

  Josiah breathed out slowly, his relief palpable. “You had me going there, you devil.”

  Monty reached out a hand, and his future brother-in-law shook it. “You do realize this means we will be related now?”

  Harry groaned. “The last thing I need is for the two of you to gang up on me like you did when we were younger!”

  There was a groan from the prone figure of Mrs. Bryant, but everyone except Letitia ignored her.

  “You will be quite safe,” said Monty, pulling Harry into his arms and kissing her on the mouth.

  There were a few gasps, primarily those who had not heard of the engagement. Monty did not care. Harry was
his, his Lady Harriet, his Harry. His perfect woman. His best friend.

  His bride.

  Epilogue

  “Are you sure that this looks right?”

  Harry could not rid her voice of nerves. How long did a girl dream about her wedding day? How young was she when she started to think about veils and vows? Too young. Too long ago did she start dreaming of her day, and most importantly, the man she would find at the end of the aisle.

  “You look beautiful,” said Letitia, in what she evidently thought was a soothing voice.

  Harry swallowed her bitter response. “Thank you, Letitia, but what I actually asked was about my veil. Does it look right? It does not feel straight, if you ask me.”

  Reaching up again to tweak it, her fingers were met by Letitia’s.

  “Let me,” her friend said gently. “Come now, you will tear it if you are not careful. It is slipping to the side because you keep tugging at it.”

  Harry allowed her hands to fall reluctantly. She was seated in an uncomfortable chair in the breakfast room of Chalding, for that had the best light at ten o’clock in the morning. Instead of worrying about the veil, she tried not to fidget as Letitia moved around her, making final adjustments.

  She had never been comfortable in finery or frippery. Her mother had always said it was such a waste, being a lady when there were so many other little girls who loved silk and satin and organza and muslins.

  All Harry had ever wanted to do was run outside, and ride horses, and chase Monty.

  And wasn’t that what she had been doing all along? Chasing Monty?

  Harry picked at one of the pleats in the golden-yellow gown she had chosen for her wedding dress. For a woman who did not like frippery, this was certainly the frippiest thing she had ever worn.

  “Are you…” Harry swallowed as Letitia moved from one side to another. “Are you sure I do not look…foolish?”

  “No, you look like a woman in an uncomfortable gown.”

  It was not Letitia’s voice which had spoken, but a man’s. A man she had known her entire life.

  Turning, Harry saw Josiah walk around the table toward her.

  “Hello, Harry,” he said with a grin. “Am I allowed to hug the bride?”

  Ignoring any potential pins Letitia was undoubtedly attempting to fix in place, Harry rose and threw her arms around her twin brother.

  “Of course you can,” she said, voice muffled as emotions overwhelmed her.

  His arms were strong and dependable, just like her brother had always been.

  “It is strange to think of you leaving home,” he said, pulling away to look into her face serious, “and not coming back.”

  Harry smiled wistfully. “Think of me as going to another house and making a home there.”

  “You have moved the veil,” came Letitia’s plaintive voice. “And we have but ten minutes before we have to leave, Harry. Please, stay still!”

  It was so unusual for Letitia to be giving out orders that Harry raised an eyebrow at Josiah, who grinned and led her back to the chair.

  “I did not come here to cause trouble, sorry, Letitia,” he said with a grin. “I actually came to give you these, Harry.”

  As she sat, Josiah reached into his pocket and pulled out a jewelry box of blue velvet.

  “Something blue?”

  Josiah sat in the chair beside her, his serious eyes meeting hers. “More than you can know.”

  He opened the jewelry box, and Harry gasped as he pushed it into her hands. Sitting in the box, gently nestled on more blue velvet, was a pair of earbobs made from two of the largest sapphires she had ever seen.

  “Mother’s favorites,” she breathed.

  Even Letitia gasped as the sunlight caught the beautiful blue stones.

  “Something old,” Josiah said with a smile, “but new to you. Borrowed from the family jewelers, so please for the love of God, do not lose them, and of course, blue.”

  Harry stared at them. These earrings were more than precious stones to her; they were a connection to the mother they had lost too quickly, too young.

  “Why do you wear those things all the time,” their father had said once. “They should be for special occasions.”

  And their mother had looked at them, her two children, her darlings, and said, “Every day is a special occasion.”

  “Oh, Josiah,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

  “Here, let me.”

  He was not particularly adept at placing earbobs, but Harry sat patiently and, more importantly, stock still for the first time that day. Letitia took advantage of her stillness to finally get the veil absolutely perfect and stood back to look with pleasure at her creation.

  “Because every day,” Josiah said quietly, leaning back to admire his handiwork, “is a special occasion.”

  Tears crept into the corners of Harry’s eyes. “I did not think I would cry today.”

  To think after everything that had happened, every moment of indecision, of confusion, of misunderstanding…

  None of it mattered, and all of it mattered. All of it combined had brought her to here, where she would marry Monty. She would be his bride, and together they would be so happy.

  “Time for me to wait outside,” said Josiah hurriedly, and Harry saw with surprise there were tears in his eyes, too. “Just don’t touch your hair, Harry, I know you. Poor old Letitia has worked damned hard on that, and you are to do her hard work justice.”

  Just like that, he had stepped outside the room and reached the door.

  “Josiah.”

  He stopped. Harry did not know what she wanted to say; there was so much unsaid between them, as there always was between siblings it seemed.

  Josiah grinned. “You look fine, Harry, don’t fret about it. One day in those uncomfortable clothes, then you can wear your most ragged, most worn-in riding clothes tomorrow, for the rest of your life.”

  The door closed gently behind him, and Harry smiled. The rest of her life. The rest of her life was going to be spent with Monty, and for much of that time, no clothes would be needed.

  Her cheeks went hot at the very thought, but she could no longer claim innocence. Yes, they had agreed not to make love during the time of their engagement—one of the reasons Harry thought Monty had applied for a special license, which would allow them to marry in just two weeks.

  Nevertheless, their promise to each other had not prevented other delightful and pleasurable activities to occur.

  She had dreamed of this but never thought it would ever happen. She got the man she wanted, the man who had never noticed her for years. Monty Cavendish.

  “Harry?”

  Harry jumped, looking at Letitia, who she had forgotten about. “I haven’t ruined the veil, have I?”

  Letitia sat slowly in the chair Josiah had vacated and shook her head with a smile. “No, it is still perfect. I…I wanted to say I am honored to be a bridesmaid, but I…I wanted to ask you, why?”

  Harry blinked. It was not the sort of question she had thought to ask herself, and even less likely to be one Letitia would ask her. It was so…direct.

  “Well,” she said, blindsided. “I have no sisters, and neither do you. You are a cousin of Monty, and we are friends, Letitia. We have known each other forever.”

  Letitia nodded, a nervous smile on her face. “I am still amazed you are getting wed, if I may be honest. While the gang always had you two pegged, I…I always saw you as friends. Not lovers.”

  Harry frowned, but did not say anything immediately. What did she want? Was there a question she wanted to ask, a piece of the story she wanted to discuss? Was this conversation a long way to get there?

  Or more intriguingly, was there a gentleman she had in mind for herself?

  “Yes, I thought so, too,” she said aloud. “Well, I hoped for more, but could only see friendship in Monty’s heart. Until…” Harry’s voice trailed away as she remembered that night, months ago, when she had climbed up the oak tree and let herself into
Monty’s room.

  “What?”

  Harry jumped. Letitia was leaning forward, eagerly waiting for the next part of the story. She was holding her posy already, all asters and leaves of corn.

  “What happened?” she repeated earnestly.

  Harry said somewhat defiantly. “I seduced him. I climbed up the oak tree, do you remember it? I went into his bedchamber, woke him up, and…and we made love.”

  Letitia dropped her posy. After she had picked up the flowers, she stared at Harry in horror. “You did not!”

  “I did!”

  “I thought people only did such things in novels.”

  “So did I, until I did it.”

  Her friend stared, evidently impressed. Harry was starting to feel strange, though secretly pleased. It was nice to be admired for such actions, after such ridicule.

  “I would never have the bravery to do anything like that,” Letitia breathed, her blue eyes not leaving hers.

  Harry smiled. “When you are in love, you will do anything.”

  The chiming of the clock over the mantelpiece made both of them jump, but its volume was nothing to Josiah’s bellow from the hallway.

  “Harry, we cannot be too late—poor Monty has been waiting fifteen minutes already!”

  “Good!” Harry shouted back. “Let him wait!”

  She and Letitia giggled as they rose, smoothing their gowns.

  Letitia took a deep breath. “Ready?”

  Harry nodded. It did not take them long to reach the door, and as they opened it, Josiah beamed.

  “Come on, old thing, time to get rid of you.”

  Harry snorted as she took his arm, and they left Chalding, walking sedately down the steps. “I never thought you would ever give me away.”

  Josiah grinned. “I never thought I would be giving you away to Devonshire, of all people. I mean, Monty?”

  As Letitia walked behind them, Harry hit Josiah’s arm. “I love him!”

  “I know, I know,” said Josiah good-naturedly as they walked around the corner, and the parish church came into view. “’Tis strange, that is all. Better him than anyone else.”

  As they reached the door of the church, Harry’s head became light. All she needed to focus on was her steps, one step at a time—but all she could think about was Monty, a few yards away, waiting for her at the top of the aisle.