The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five

by Taylor, Erica

  Luke watched her, and her face flushed under his gaze.

  “I’ve loved this church since I was a child. Ever since I saw a sketch in one of my brother’s school books. I’ve always loved Gothic architecture. It’s so severe and dramatic, and yet it fills you with awe, don’t you think?”

  Luke nodded, not looking away from her face.

  Vivian sighed. “I’d have loved to be married here.”

  “Let’s do that. Let’s be married here, now.”

  “Here?” She glanced around in surprise. “Now?”

  “Why ever not? It seems as good a place as any. And you seem to be taken by it.”

  “We haven’t…” Vivian fought for an answer. “We haven’t a license. Which is why you said we had to go to London.”

  Luke frowned. “Let’s see if I can remedy that.”

  * * *

  Vivian watched from a few yards away as Luke was bent in discussion with a clergyman. His attempts to persuade the clergyman did not go his way, and short of offering a man of the cloth a bribe, he returned to where Vivian waited beneath the scissor arches with an alternative. “He says he cannot officially marry us.”

  “Yes, I thought that might be the case,” she replied with a sad smile. “But it was sweet of you to try.”

  “But we can simply marry ourselves.”

  Vivian’s brows pulled together in confusion. “What on earth does that mean?”

  “It means we can do the ceremony as if it were real, we just do not sign anything at the end and it doesn’t count. It would be a pretend ceremony.”

  “That seems awfully illegal.”

  Luke shrugged, as if he wasn’t the least bit concerned about the legality of it. “We still have to do it again in London with the special license and all that legal nonsense.”

  “This doesn’t seem proper—”

  “You can have proper or you can be married in your favorite church in England,” Luke told her. “Believe me, the wedding we will have in London won’t be in nearly as nice a location. Likely my sister’s parlor.”

  That did seem awful, Vivian admitted to herself.

  And so, Vivian found herself standing at the doors to the cathedral, a handful of poppies from a nearby field wrapped in ribbon and held tightly in her hands. The practicing boys’ choir served as music for her processional down the aisle. Within moments she was standing beside Luke below the scissor arches.

  “We will need a ring,” Vivian told him.

  Luke glanced around, patting down his coat and pockets in a mild panic before his face lit up. He tugged the signet ring from his right hand and held it proudly before him like he’d just found a magic ring in a riverbed.

  “With this ring, I thee wed…” Luke’s lips pulled into a smirk as he slipped the ring onto Vivian’s ring finger as he recited what he could remember of the wedding vows. The heavy ring was much too large, and as he released it onto her finger, it slid around, twisting to dangle against her palm.

  Vivian giggled, unable to mask the absurdity of the moment.

  Luke shrugged. “It’s just symbolic anyway. You can choose something more fitting when we get to London.”

  Vivian pulled a ribbon from her hair and tied it around Luke’s finger as she repeated the same words he had.

  Luke grinned as she tied the red ribbon into a neat bow. “And it’s just my color.”

  “Now what?”

  “Now I pronounce us husband a wife. I may kiss my bride.”

  Luke’s head dipped towards hers and his lips were gentle as he kissed her tenderly.

  And like that they were married. Almost. Even though it wasn’t real, even if Luke didn’t love her and if she didn’t love him, and their entire relationship was just a ruse and a business arrangement, somehow for that moment, as Vivian stood beside her new husband as he grinned brightly down at her, if felt very, very real.

  Chapter Seven

  Their journey to London took two more days and was thankfully free from highwaymen, or young bucks masquerading as such.

  They arrived in London in the middle of the night. Vivian was ready to be rid of carriages, having spent the better part of four days inside one, and it was at her request they pushed through to London and did not stop at another coaching inn. If they never had to travel again until he sent her back to the Abbey, she would not be happier.

  They arrived at a house just off Grosvenor Square. Grey brick with white-framed windows, flowers planted in the boxes beneath the bottom floor windows. It was a charming house, not overly large as the mansions on Park Lane, but something that still exemplified the owners had wealth.

  “This is my sister’s house,” Luke told her as they descended from the carriage. “She recently married the new Earl of Sandton. They are the most likely of my siblings to ask the fewest questions.”

  Before Luke could explain further, the door before them opened and the distrustful glare of a bleary-eyed butler stared back at them.

  “Wilkes, old man!” Luke said cheerfully. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

  The frantic wails of a baby echoed from inside.

  “Lady Eloise is awake.” Wilkes stepped aside, as if this were a sufficient answer. Vivian followed Luke into the entry.

  “Right, ah, I don’t want to bother my sister, so might we have a pair of rooms for the night?” Luke glanced uneasily up the stairs. “Quan will be along with our trunks.”

  “Apologies, my lord, but her ladyship has a standing order to see any member of her family should they show up unannounced, regardless of the hour.”

  Luke looked worried for a moment before he nodded. “If we must.”

  They followed Wilkes up two flights of stairs and into a large sitting room connected to a larger master chamber. There was a man in the middle of the room, clad in breeches, no stockings and an open shirt, holding a baby wrapped in a blanket, bouncing and whispering to quiet her down. His wife, Norah, had just seated herself on the settee.

  “Lord and Lady Sandton, your brother, Lord Kenswick and guest,” Wilkes announced to the dimly lit room.

  Norah looked up and smiled lightly. “Ah, Luke. You’ve come back. And with a lady friend, I see.”

  “Vivian, this is my sister Norah, and her husband, Trevor Hayward,” Luke said, and they moved further into the room.

  “Please sit,” Norah said, and took her fussing daughter from her husband. “And this lively little bundle is Lady Eloise.” She tried to calm the fussing baby, to no avail. Lady Eloise wanted her voice to be heard.

  Norah and Trevor looked exhausted and by all accounts, Eloise had yet to let them sleep.

  “Has it been an hour yet?” Norah asked her husband who nodded. Vivian doubted he realized his state of severe undress, or if he did, he was too exhausted to care.

  Norah repositioned herself on the sofa. “While I feed her, you can explain yourselves.”

  Vivian glanced at Luke as he glanced at her, both their brows arched in question.

  Norah draped a blanket over her shoulder and across her front, and within a few moments fussing wails were replaced by sounds of suckling.

  Luke and Vivian sat opposite the nursing countess. Vivian tried her best to keep her eyes from bulging out of her head at the entire scene.

  Norah chuckled. “You needn’t look so scandalized, Luke. It’s a nursing baby. Not the inquisition.”

  “I don’t like to even consider you having breasts, much less knowing they are put into some use,” Luke told her. “Did you not hire a wet nurse?”

  Norah shook her head as a maid came into the room with a tray of tea. Trevor moved to assist the maid in the dim lighting.

  “Thank you, Josefa,” Norah said to her maid, catching her hand as she passed. “And please, get some sleep. We can manage. No need for everyone to be exhausted every morning.”

  Josefa smiled and squeezed Norah’s hand. “If you insist, my lady.”

  Trevor set an apple and a cup of tea on the sofa table beside Norah
before claiming the other side of the sofa. He rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

  Norah returned her attention to Luke and Vivian. “Now, use your words effectively like I know you are capable of, and explain your appearance on my doorstep at midnight.”

  “This is Vivian Burke,” Luke told her.

  Norah regarded Vivian. “I remember Miss Burke.”

  “We are married,” Luke explained. “Or rather we are to be married.”

  “Congratulations,” Norah stated, though her tone wasn’t one of happiness.

  “We need lodging,” Luke continued. “We’ve traveled without chaperone, largely unnoticed, but alone in my house seems to push propriety a bit too far. Vivian will need a lady’s maid, and your assistance purchasing clothing.”

  Vivian opened her mouth to contradict Luke, but Norah cut her off.

  “I find it affronting that you should just expect my assistance. It is unfortunate for Miss Burke to marry such an unmannerly gentleman.”

  “My apologies, Lady Sandton.” Luke’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “If you are not too busy, could you be so kind as to allow us a place to stay? And would you please show my intended the way to the dress shops in the morning? And find her some friends while you are at it.”

  Vivian frowned at Luke. “Your intended can find her own way, and I can find my own friends.”

  “Oh, you know what I mean,” Luke said with a dismissive shrug.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed on her fiancé. “Actually, I haven’t a clue what you are on about.”

  “Norah knows everyone in town,” Luke explained. “For this to work you will need to be introduced to the right people who will make certain that news of our nuptials reaches the right ears.”

  “You mean the Prince Regent’s ears?”

  “I mean the people to whom our marriage matters. Those with reach and influence. I will talk to my people, and you will talk to yours. Everyone will see how in love and happily married we are.”

  “If we even make it as far as the altar,” Vivian muttered under her breath.

  Norah’s face lit up and she laughed, hearing what Vivian had said. “I knew I would like you!”

  “I apologize Lord Sandton, Lady Sandton—”

  “Oh, none of that, please. We tend to be informal with family,” Norah said.

  Vivian didn’t look at Luke, knowing he would snicker an I told you so.

  “My apologies for our behavior,” Vivian continued, avoiding using their names. “We are just… tired, I think.”

  “Not to worry,” Norah replied with a shrug. “You will fit right in with this family if you can hold your own with my lump of a brother.”

  Trevor caught Vivian’s gaze. “They’re all like this to each other.”

  “Hostile?” Vivian asked.

  Luke and Norah glanced at each other and grinned.

  “I suspect we seem hostile if you aren’t accustomed to us,” Luke said.

  “Besides, my brothers occasionally need reminding of their place,” Norah added.

  “Where is your nurse?” Luke asked again. “I vaguely remember Clara and Susanna giving you agency recommendations.”

  “We’ve had three nurses. The first was horrified I insisted on feeding my daughter myself.” Norah bit into her apple, the contented coos from the nursing baby filled the room.

  “The second ran from the house when she came across a particular room,” Trevor continued. “She claimed it was a den of iniquity.”

  Norah rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous. It’s a boxing gym. The third didn’t mind the unfashionable nursing, nor the pugilism.”

  “But she was rather put out when we tried to be involved in our daughter’s life,” Trevor finished.

  “She’s two months old,” Norah said. “The last nurse insisted I needed to be less attached to my two-month-old daughter.”

  “And she was upset when I went to fetch her when she cried at night,” Trevor added.

  Norah took a sip from her tea cup again before moving the baby out from under the blanket and handing Eloise to her father. Sandton set the babe against his shoulder, kissing the top of her dark hair as he patted his hand against her back. After a few moments, the baby produced an unladylike burp.

  Luke pointedly glanced away as Norah moved to place the baby on her other breast, entirely covered with the blanket the entire time.

  “When did the last nurse leave?” Luke asked.

  “Six days ago, just after you did,” Norah replied. “Now, I am happy to take your betrothed shopping, and you are welcome to stay here. I will even volunteer to host your wedding and wedding breakfast. But whatever this is—” She looked pointedly between Vivian and Luke, “—you are responsible for informing the family. I will not be the bearer of that news.”

  “Where is everyone?” Luke asked.

  “In Kent. We are set to join them at the end of the week. You’ve been exempt from these things because you are rarely in town, but with a title and a wife, you will be expected to make an appearance.”

  Luke sighed. “I thought as much.”

  Vivian wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about, but she gathered her introduction to the Macalister’s would happen sooner than either had anticipated.

  “It is past time you did something with this title you’ve been bestowed. I’d hate for all my hard work to go to waste.”

  Luke stood. “That is a tomorrow problem. For now, we sleep.” He held his hand for Vivian to rise, and she accepted his assistance, realizing she was wearier than she’d thought.

  “I will show you to your rooms,” Trevor said and prepared to rise but Luke stopped him.

  “We can manage. I remember where the bedrooms are. I was here a week ago.”

  Vivian followed Luke from the room, eager for a bed in better condition than the coaching inn Luke had found for them the night before.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Norah’s voice pierced the silence. “You tore out of here like a demon with the devil on his tail. Did your time away give you what you needed?”

  With a glance at Vivian, Luke nodded. “I think so. And likely what I didn’t realize I needed as well.”

  “Good.” Norah rested her head against her husband’s arm. “I’ve longed to see you happy.” Her voice was weary as her eyes fluttered closed.

  Luke led Vivian into the hallway, dark and empty, and turned up the stairs. On the next floor up, two doors along the corridor stood open for them. The room with her trunk contained a large and inviting bed and a fire burning in the grate.

  Vivian turned slowly towards her husband, or her husband-to-be, as their Wells wedding had not been legal. But it felt like their wedding, more than the formal legal event that would happen soon.

  Luke regarded her with apprehension. “I apologize for organizing your activities without consulting you first. You are more than capable of handling things yourself. I’d just thought having Norah’s aid might be preferable.”

  “I can struggle through a shopping trip with the fashionable countess,” Vivian teased. “In the future, just include me in the plans when you are able.”

  “I will try. I am accustomed to doing things myself without thought of anyone else. Fair warning, I might make a spectacularly terrible husband.”

  “And I am accustomed to doing things on my own. Having someone to depend on, other than my mother, might take some adjusting.”

  “You’ll have more than just me to depend on,” he reminded her, brushing a lock of auburn hair that had fallen across her brow. “Norah’s friendship is merely the tip of the large Macalister iceberg.”

  “I will be Vivian Macalister,” she added, her breath catching as the tips of his fingers trailed down the line of her jaw. “The Countess of Kenswick.”

  His brow quirked up. “Having second thoughts?”

  “No. But standing here in London, it seems a bit more real.”

  “It will be r
eal once we sign the papers the Archbishop provides.”

  Vivian looked way from the intensity of his gaze and his hand fell from her face.

  “It felt real at Wells,” she said hesitantly, not meeting his gaze.

  The tips of his fingers brushed against her neck, along the gold chain she’d looped his gold signet ring onto.

  Tracing his fingers down the chain, he pulled it from where it was tucked into her bosom, holding the heavy ring in his hand.

  “It was much too large to remain on my finger,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “I did not want to lose it.”

  “Smart.” He let the ring swing on its chain and for a moment they both stood watching as it came to rest against her breasts.

  His gaze caught hers and slowly she raised her raised her chin.

  Kiss me, she pleaded silently as she held his gaze, watching the turmoil rage behind his eyes, the argument he was having with himself.

  Give in to this, she pleaded. Give in to me.

  She didn’t know why he hesitated, why he stayed away. Didn’t he realize he could have her if he just asked?

  His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes and she knew he wanted to kiss her, and yet he still did not move.

  She could take the lead and simply kiss him herself, but she stopped, realizing there was a reason why he did not move towards her. Something was holding him back and if he didn’t want to initiate that part of their relationship, she wasn’t going to do so either. She might be a willing partner in his arms, but she needed to be certain he wanted her in his arms to begin with.

  And then he moved, cupping her face in his hands and lowering his mouth to hers in a tenderly heated kiss. It was… a promise, not necessarily of more immediately to come, but that more was wanted, by both parties. He didn’t deepen the kiss, merely moved his mouth across hers, wickedly teasing her with something that would not come to fulfillment tonight. But just his mouth on hers was enough. For tonight it was enough.