The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen

“And now that she has—” her eyes narrowed “—it’s not your story to tell?”

A horrible sinking sensation settled in his chest. “I’m afraid so.”

“I see.”

He winced.

“Then if you will excuse me.” She nodded, turned and headed toward the stairs.

He wanted to run after her, confess everything but—regardless of whatever happened between them now—he would not be the one to destroy her relationship with the only family she had. Heloise’s secrets were hers to tell. He could do nothing more than stand by India’s side. If she would let him.

“What are you going to do?” Val asked beside him. Derek hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Go with her,” Derek said without thinking.

Val nodded. “I shall have a maid pack your bags. While we wait...” He took his brother’s elbow and steered him toward the library. “I think a whisky is in order.”

“It’s too early in the day,” he murmured.

“Good God, what has she done to you?”

“Nothing more than any avenging angel bent on reforming my wicked ways might do.” He slanted his brother a halfhearted smile. “She has stolen my heart.”

* * *

A SCANT QUARTER of an hour later, voices sounded outside the library door. Surely India couldn’t be ready to leave so soon? Derek and Val exchanged glances and hurried into the hall.

India had changed into her gray dress and stood talking to the professor and Estelle, Luckthorne by her side. A subtle gleam of victory showed in the man’s eyes. It did not bode well.

“Lord Brookings.” India turned to Val with a polite smile. “I would like to thank you for your gracious hospitality. You have been most welcoming under awkward circumstances.”

“It has been my pleasure, Miss Prendergast.” Val took her hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “I hate to see you go.”

“Are you leaving?” Mother’s voice rang from the stairway and she hurried down the steps. “Surely not without saying goodbye?”

“I had intended to,” India began, “but—”

“But we do need to be on our way if we are to be home at a reasonable hour,” Luckthorne said firmly.

Mother shot him a curious look, then turned her attention back to India, stepped toward her and took her hands. “My dear child, I shall miss you terribly.”

India paused then smiled. “I shall miss you, as well.”

Mother glanced around. “Aren’t you taking your new clothes with you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to put them in. My trunk...” She shrugged. “Well, you know.”

“I shall have them delivered to you in London.” Mother nodded in that way she had of ending a subject, then leaned close to India and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” India said quietly.

“I don’t believe my bags are ready yet.” Derek glanced at his brother. “Would you have my things sent on to me?”

Val nodded.

“Excellent.” He turned to India. “As Sir Martin is so eager to be on our way, we should be off.”

Luckthorne’s eyes widened. “You’re coming with us?”

“I am.” Derek directed his words at Luckthorne but kept his gaze fixed on India. “I started this quest with Miss Prendergast. I intend to see it through to the end.”

Luckthorne scowled. “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Regardless, I don’t intend to be left behind.” Derek shrugged in a casual manner as if this wasn’t the least bit important.

“I see no reason why you should accompany us.” Luckthorne stepped toward him in a challenging manner. Good. Perhaps Derek would get to thrash the man, after all.

“Might I speak privately with you for a moment, Mr. Saunders?” India stepped between the two men. “In the library perhaps?” She glanced at Val. “My lord?”

“Of course.” Val nodded.

“Thank you—this won’t take long.” She walked into the library with a resolute step, Derek right behind.

“I shall hail a cab for—”

Derek closed the doors on Luckthorne’s comment. He stepped toward her. “India.”

“Derek.” She held out a hand to stop him. “I am doing exactly what you said I should do. I am returning home to speak with Heloise.”

“Let me go with you.”

“No.” She paused. “I am trying very hard to retain whatever semblance of my sensible nature that may still linger. I suspect it is the only way for me to proceed at this point. You have no place in that.”

“But—”

“I cannot, at the moment, consider the repercussions of our actions last night or what was said.”

“What was said was that I love you and you love me.”

“I’m aware of that,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes. “However...”

“However,” he said slowly, “even now you cannot bring yourself to completely trust me.”

“In that you’re wrong,” she said sharply, her gaze snapping to his. “The problem between us is that you don’t trust me. You don’t trust that I can face whatever this story that is not yours to tell entails. You don’t trust that I have the strength or the courage or whatever is necessary. You don’t trust that I will not fall apart at this revelation, whatever it may be. You may well be right but...” She drew a steadying breath. “I would hope, after all this time together, you had as much faith in me as I do in you.”

“I do,” he said staunchly.

“Furthermore, it appears I was right all along.” She shook her head. “I am not the type of woman—no—I am not the woman you should marry.”

He could deny it but it would do no good. “I don’t know what to say.”

She smiled a resigned sort of smile, and his heart twisted. “I think we’ve both said quite enough.” She turned toward the door, then looked back at him. “I believe one of the Lady Travelers pamphlets says travel is an unexpected adventure. Thank you, Mr. Saunders, for the unexpected and the adventure.” She nodded, opened the door, then closed it behind her.

For a long moment, he could do nothing more than stare, stunned by the finality of the faint thud of the door closing behind her. The woman he loved had just walked out of his life, and there was little he could do about it. Surely this awful aching sensation, this almost physical pain was heartbreak.

No, resolve coursed through him. She was wrong. Again. He did have faith in her, in them. Why, the chances that they would ever meet in the first place let alone fall in love were slim. That they had found each other—the carefree scoundrel and the sensible spinster—was nothing short of a miracle. Or fate. And that was worth fighting for.

Trust had nothing to do with it. Letting Heloise tell her story was absolutely the right decision even if India didn’t yet realize it. But she would and he would be there when she did. Once, he might have let her go. Resigned himself to the fact that he had lost her and go on with his life. But if he had learned nothing else from Uncle Edward in these months since his birthday it was that making the right decision was rarely easy. It took strength and courage and, yes, faith. Derek could be—he was—a better man than he had imagined. A man his father would be proud of.

India Prendergast was exactly the kind of woman—the only woman—he should marry. And he intended to do exactly that. Now he simply had to convince the stubborn, annoying creature who did not believe in love or romance that he was right and, once again, she was wrong.

He grinned. Another grand, romantic gesture was called for and he knew exactly what it should be.

The door opened and Val stepped into the library, followed closely by his mother.

Val stared. “Why on earth are you smiling? You do realize she’s gone?”

“I do.”

“She left this for you.” Val handed him the souvenir medal he had given her on the Eiffel Tower. “She said she didn’t need it.”

“Well, I shall have to return it to her.” Derek slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

“Then you are going to go after her?” Mother said hopefully.

“Not quite yet.”

“Why on earth not?” Mother’s eyes widened. “She’s accompanying Sir Martin, and I am certain he is going to use whatever has happened between you to try to engage her affections.”

“Sir Martin has had years to engage India’s affections.” Derek chuckled. “I doubt that his efforts will be successful now.”

“How can you possibly be sure of that?” Mother glared at him as if he had lost his mind.

“Faith, Mother.” He shrugged. “It all comes down to faith.”

Val studied him closely. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

“More or less.”

“Then you should be on your way to London.” Mother waved in the general direction of England. “At once.”

“Oh, I will but not quite yet. First—” he grinned “—I need to go to Prague.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“IT IS GOOD to have you back, Miss.” Denker, Heloise’s butler, greeted India at the door.

“Thank you, Denker. It is good to be home.” India heaved a weary sigh. It was far later than she had hoped, but then there were moments during the journey from Paris when it had seemed endless.

In the eight years she had worked for Martin, she could not remember ever thinking him irritating. Or ever wishing he would just stop talking, if only for a moment. But Martin went on and on about how Derek was not the right man for her and how he should probably be thrown in prison. It was pointless to argue, even if she’d had the strength to do so. Finally, she had told him she didn’t wish to hear another word about Mr. Saunders and had said so in her coolest, no-nonsense manner.

The last thing she wanted to talk about was Derek. It was bad enough that she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts. She had trusted him, but how could you trust a man who kept secrets from you? Even if those secrets were not his to tell. Which made no sense at all.

“Lady Heloise assumed you would be arriving today, although she was not certain when,” Denker said. “She is in her rooms and asked that I awaken her when you arrived.”

“Thank you, Denker.” India paused. “How is she?”

“Frankly, Miss Prendergast, I don’t believe she has ever been better.”

India stared at him. “Do you really think so?”

“He thinks so, dear India, because it’s true.” Heloise sailed down the stairs and didn’t so much as pause before throwing her arms around India in a warm embrace. “My darling girl, I am so sorry I worried you. That was the very last thing I wished to do.”

Whether it was her concern over Heloise or the awful ache that had gripped her since leaving Derek, but something inside India shattered at Heloise’s touch and she sobbed against the older woman.

“My poor child.” Heloise rocked India and patted her head. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you cry before. Not even when you were a girl.”

“I don’t cry.” India sobbed. “I never cry.”

“I know, dear. I’ve always found it most concerning.”

India drew her head back and frowned. “Why?”

“Because it seems to me you have always held everything tightly inside you. As if you were afraid to let yourself feel too much. Or perhaps let others know that you did feel.”

“Nonsense.” India impatiently dashed the tears from her face and stepped back. “Where have you been? Why did you stop writing to me? What is it that you didn’t want anyone else to tell me?”

“We do have a great deal to talk about. I have much to tell you, including one or two things I probably should have told you long ago.” Heloise took India’s arm and led her into the parlor. “You should sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down,” India said but sat on the sofa nonetheless. “What I want is answers.”

“And you shall have them.” Heloise settled on the sofa beside her. “But I daresay you won’t like them.”

“I don’t expect to.”

“Try not to judge too harshly, India.” Heloise thought for a moment. “First, I never left England.”

“What?” Of all the things India had been expecting—or perhaps feared—this was not among them. “But I received a number of letters from you.”

“I did write the letters.” She leaned forward in a confidential manner. “I found the Baedeker guides most helpful in that.”

India stared. “They were very authentic.”

“I thought so.” Heloise nodded with satisfaction. “I wrote the letters and planned the itinerary with the help of the Lady Travelers Society—lovely women, I might add.”

This made no sense at all. India nodded numbly.

“Then I sent Mademoiselle Marquette off on a tour of Europe with the letters in one hand and sufficient funds in the other.” Heloise beamed as if she was quite proud of herself.

India wasn’t sure she wished to hear more but, like a moth, this was a flame she could not resist. “And?”

“And that’s where everything unraveled.” Heloise heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Mademoiselle made it as far as Paris, decided to visit her family, somewhere close to Paris—I forget where—and then abandoned the entire plan, returning the remaining letters and most of the money I’d given her. This was extremely upsetting, and I would have discharged her at once had she not already submitted her resignation.”

India could hardly believe her ears. All Heloise needed was a dead body and a fortune in stolen loot and she’d have all the makings for an excellent detective story.

India shook her head in confusion. “But why?”

“For you, dear.”

“For me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, it didn’t quite go the way you wished,” India said sharply. “I have been terribly worried.”

“Precisely why I wish I could have discharged Mademoiselle Marquette myself.” Heloise pressed her lips together. “She has proved most disappointing.”

India stared. “I went to Paris to find you!”

“I know.” A brilliant smile creased Heloise’s lips. “I was so proud of you when I heard that. Was it wonderful?”

“Yes,” she said without thinking, but it was true. In spite of everything, it had been wonderful.

“I must admit I am a wee bit jealous. I believe I shall have to go to Paris myself soon. I have always wanted to, you know.”

“Heloise.” India inhaled a calming breath. “Why did you arrange all this to make me think you were traveling when you say you never left England?”

“Yes, well.” Heloise winced. “That is a bit awkward.”

“That is the awkward part?” India snorted. “I can hardly wait to hear this.”

“Sarcasm, India.” Heloise cast her a chastising look.

“Go on.”

“Very well.” Heloise folded her hands in her lap. “Some thirty-four years ago, when I was seventeen, I fell madly, passionately in love with a young man only a few years older than I. He was tall and dashing with dark hair and blue eyes. He had the most wonderful laugh and the wickedest smile I’d ever seen, as if he could see through to my very soul and my most secret desires.” She smiled with the memory. “You’re so sensible, I’m sure you can’t imagine how easy it would be to fall in love with a man like that.”

“On the contrary, Heloise,” India said slowly. “I can understand it all too well.”

“He was the son of a merchant. One of the reasons my father disapproved and forbid me to see him. I was far too timid to defy my father, which, in hindsight, was the greatest mistake of my life.” She hesitated, no doubt lost in memories and regret.

“And,” India said gently.

“And, a few months before I began my travels—”

“Your grand deception.”

Heloise ignored her. “Quite by happenstance, I met him again. His hair is more gray than dark now and he is not as slender as he once was, but his eyes still sparkle with laughter and he still looks at me as if I were the loveliest, most wonderful woman in the world. He is a widow now, childless and quite wealthy.”

At some point during Heloise’s discourse, India’s mouth had dropped open, and she now made a concerted effort to close it.

“We began seeing each other, and he wishes to marry me. But I felt—as it had been a very long time and we have both changed—that it would be wiser to become reacquainted with one another before taking such an irrevocable step. So, we have been at his country house for the last few months.” Denker was right—she’d never looked happier.

“Why didn’t you just tell me all of this? Why make me think you had left the country?”

“Because I knew you would disapprove,” she said simply. “I didn’t want to hear all the sensible, rational reasons why a man and woman—both past their fiftieth year—could not be together if they so desired. I especially did not want to be lectured about impropriety nor did I wish to be convinced to abandon what you would see as a foolish endeavor.” She fixed India with a firm eye. “It wasn’t. James and I intend to marry as soon as possible. But aside from everything else, I did not want you to think less of me. I did not want you to be disappointed.”

India stared for a long moment. Heloise was no older than Derek’s mother, who was now on her third husband and every bit as in love with him as she had been with her first. India had never thought of Heloise as being the sort of woman who had romantic dreams and desires. Apparently in that she was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. “You shouldn’t have had to go to all this trouble, spend all that money. You should have been able to tell me.”

“My dear girl, you are who, for the most part, I raised you to be.” She hesitated. “As for the money, well, I haven’t been entirely forthright with you about our finances, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a great deal of money, India. Far more than you imagine. I have arranged for it all to be yours one day, even after James and I marry. I have never spent it freely because I have a dreadful fear of being old and penniless and forced to rely on the kindness of relatives so distant they scarcely know my name. Beyond that—” she straightened her shoulders “—I’ve had money my entire life, and it has brought me nothing save a modicum of financial security. I have no particular skills except for my art, an unreliable source of income under the best of circumstances. Furthermore, I allowed my father to run my life—admittedly out of fear of losing my finances and in doing so, lost the love of my life. Aside from you, I am alone.

“When you came into my care, I realized I didn’t like the way I had been brought up. To believe that a girl was of little purpose except to marry well. Because my finances are sound, I never needed courage or strength. I did not want you to become me.”

India considered her cousin. This was a great deal to digest. She chose her words with care. “I was terribly worried about you, which makes it difficult to condone your deceptions—”

Heloise’s expression crumpled.

“But that you found it necessary because of my unyielding, unrelenting, always-right nature...” India met the older woman’s gaze directly. This would have been an entirely different conversation before India went to Paris. “I am so, so sorry.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“My darling girl.” Heloise sniffed back a tear. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“And I do think, given that you concocted an elaborate scheme to make me think you were traveling, you underestimate your skills. It was all rather brilliant.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.” India laughed. “I truly do.” She paused. “I am wondering, though.”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t matter really, nothing more than a point of curiosity but...” She studied her cousin, then smiled in a rueful manner. “How much money do you have?”

Heloise laughed with as much relief as amusement. The thought flashed through India’s mind that Derek was right. This was not his story to tell.

And once again, she’d been wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

It is not enough to reach one’s destination in a timely manner. The excitement of travel lies as much in the journey as it does the destination. Even the most disastrous of excursions brings unexpected adventure and gladdens the spirit. And we are the better for it.

—The Lady Travelers Society Guide

DEREK WAS FAR smarter than India had imagined. Certainly, the man would have to be shrewd to have come up with the Lady Travelers scheme in the first place, but that was only the beginning of the machinations of his clever mind.

He’d been absolutely right in refusing to say anything about what Heloise had done, although India wasn’t entirely sure how much of her story he knew. Still, refusing to reveal the older woman’s secrets had been both wise and gallant. One really couldn’t fault him for that even if, at the time, India had.

She had thought, perhaps, he would immediately follow her to London. It was neither sensible nor rational, given the way they had parted, but then he was more prone to impulse and emotion than she. And the man had declared his love and his intention to marry her, after all.

But he did not appear on the first day after she returned, nor the second. On the third day she wondered if he was coming at all and asked Heloise to make discreet inquiries at the Lady Travelers Society. Heloise dutifully reported that, as far as Lady Blodgett knew, Derek had not yet returned to London. Why on earth not? What was keeping him in Paris? Unless, of course, he simply wished to stay as far away from her as possible. Which was silly. She was more than ready to acknowledge he was right and she was wrong. Again. Admittedly, he had no way of knowing that. By the time a full week had passed, India had to face the awful, obvious truth.

Whatever had happened between them in Paris, whatever feelings they might have had, whatever they might have shared or said was apparently relegated to Paris. Paris is where it had begun and Paris was where it had ended and Paris was where it would remain.

India had never imagined something like this could hurt quite so much. The deepest sort of unrelenting pain ached inside her. Regardless of what she did to keep her mind occupied, it was always there, hovering at the edge of perception, ready to sweep through her over and over again, and crush her heart. Pain made worse by knowing the blame could be squarely laid at her feet. Pity she had no idea what to do about it.

Still, the rest of the world continued without pause as if unaware of, or indifferent to, her utter despair. She met Heloise’s intended—Mr. James Kirby—and they discussed plans for their upcoming nuptials, which the happy couple wanted without delay. India returned to work with Sir Martin but only until a suitable replacement could be found. She began that search at once.

On the eighth day after her return from Paris, India decided enough was more than enough. She had given him a full week. A long, endless week filled with dismay and grief and regret. Something needed to be done, and it was up to her to do it.

If Derek refused to seek her out, she would track him down to the ends of the earth if necessary. She did not intend to grovel but, at the very least, she owed him an apology. A sincere, heartfelt, admission of her error in judgment and an equally earnest request for forgiveness. Whether said apology also included a reinstatement of her feelings was yet to be determined, but she would certainly not rule it out. It was entirely possible Derek no longer shared her feelings, but that was a risk she would have to take.

India Prendergast had never been in love before and, at the moment, found it awkward and unpleasant and agonizing. But as brief as it had been, it had also been quite wonderful, fraught with enchantment and filled with hope and promise. And that alone was worth fighting for.

But first she had to find the blasted man. She stopped to send a telegram to Lord Brookings on her way to Sir Martin’s house asking if his stepbrother was still in Paris and, if not, where was he? It was exactly ten words.

There were already several responses to the advertisements India had placed seeking a new secretarial assistant for Martin. She’d spent much of the day thus far considering the various applicants and preparing a detailed list of questions for individual interviews. She had no plans for her own future but she could not get on with her life until Martin was settled in his.

It was midafternoon when irate voices sounded in the foyer. Martin’s butler—Kenton—perhaps the most serene creature in the entire world, never raised his voice.

“Miss Prendergast!” Lady Blodgett swept into Martin’s library on a wave of indignation, Kenton a sputtering, outraged step behind. “A word, if you please.”

“Lady Blodgett.” India shot a quick look at Martin, they both rose to their feet and she nodded to Kenton to take his leave. “Good day.”

“It’s not at all a good day. In point of fact, I would say it’s a dreadful day.” She pinned India with a hard look. “And you, Miss Prendergast, are to blame.”

“Me? Exactly what have I done?” India asked cautiously.

“Now see here, Lady Blodgett,” Martin began. The older lady shot him a venomous look, and the poor dear wilted. “What have you done, India?” he said weakly.

India shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“My great-nephew, dear, dear Derek, returned to London this morning—” India’s heart leaped “—only to be greeted very nearly the moment he stepped off the train by the authorities who dragged him off to Newgate!”

India gasped. “Good Lord!”

Lady Blodgett crossed her arms over her chest. “Do not feign innocence with me, Miss Prendergast. While I firmly believe Derek is not considerably worse than most men of his years and background, I am well aware that you think my dear, dear nephew is an unscrupulous scoundrel.”

“I most certainly do not!” India huffed, then paused. “Well, not anymore. I admit I did when we first met but now...” She drew a deep breath. “Now, I think he’s simply gone astray, but I believe he is truly a good man.”

“Then why did you have him arrested?” Lady Blodgett shook her head in a chastising manner. “Not the least bit sporting of you, Miss Prendergast.”

“I didn’t have him arrested.” Justified indignation colored her words. “He plans on atoning for his misdeeds, and that is more than sufficient. I do not want to see him in prison.”

“Someone does,” Lady Blodgett said darkly.

Martin cleared his throat. “I say, there might have been a bit of an, oh, misunderstanding.”

At once India realized the truth. She stared at Martin. “What have you done?”

“Nothing, really.” He tugged anxiously at his collar. “I might have mentioned in passing to Inspector Cooper that I had heard Mr. Saunders’s confession with my own ears and I would be prepared, if necessary, to testify to that effect.”

“Aha!” Lady Blodgett glared.

“And I might also, possibly—” Martin winced “—have suggested it would be wise to keep a close watch at the train stations as Mr. Saunders was likely to be returning from Paris at any time.”

This was not at all like Martin, who, until he had decided to follow her to Paris, had been one of the least judgmental and disapproving people in the world. He would never have condoned illegalities but he was usually willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt. She had always found it most exasperating.

“How could you?”

“The man should be punished for his crimes,” he said staunchly “There was a time when you agreed with me.”

“Good Lord, Martin, life is not all black or white, good or bad. And people especially are not perfect. Nor should we expect them to be.”

“You expect people to be perfect!”

“Yes, well...” She shrugged helplessly. “I was wrong.”

“You may have been, but I was not.” He drew himself up. “I thought it was for the best.”

Lady Blodgett gave him a disgusted look. “My, you are a pompous ass, aren’t you?”

“He really isn’t,” India said. “He’s usually quite nice. I don’t know what’s happened to him.”

“You’ve changed, India, and so have I. I told you I did not intend to give up.” His gaze sought hers. “I thought if he was out of your life, you wouldn’t have to leave mine.”

“Oh dear, Martin.” Her heart clenched. “I thought you understood.”

“I did, until you and Saunders had that nasty falling-out and I thought—or hoped—things could go back to the way they had always been.” He sighed. “But they can’t, can they?”

“I’m afraid not.” India turned to Lady Blodgett. “We need to free Derek at once. Regardless of what he has done, he is willing to set everything to rights and make amends for his less-than-ethical ways.”

The older woman stared. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that Derek is using the Lady Travelers Society as a way to defraud unsuspecting women out of their savings. You just said you knew I thought he was a scoundrel.” India pulled her brows together. “What were you talking about?”

Lady Blodgett lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “I assumed you considered him a scoundrel because he has a decidedly colorful reputation.”

“No.” India shook her head. “Although that is not a mark in his favor.”

“Nonetheless the fact remains, Mr. Saunders has been swindling helpless females who have succumbed to the questionable lure of travel.” Martin glared at Lady Blodgett.

“He most certainly has not!” Lady Blodgett squared her shoulders. “I have.”

India stared. “You have?”

“Not by myself, of course. Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore have been by my side every moment.” She paused. “We really didn’t see it as fraud, you know. Oh, we were aware that we had no idea how to plan or arrange for travel, but no one seemed to mind. None of our members complained about our lectures or our advice or our lack of actual travel experience, although admittedly, we might not have mentioned that. Regardless, we are a most convivial group all in all. Why, things were going along quite nicely until Derek took a distinctly different view of our activities, and dear Lady Heloise was lost, of course.”

“Derek allowed me to believe this was his doing,” India said slowly. “He was protecting you.”

“And wasn’t that noble of him?” Lady Blodgett fairly glowed with pride. “He’s really a very thoughtful boy.”

“So Derek has not been fleecing women out of their money?” As many times as she’d been wrong in recent weeks, this was her biggest mistake.

“Absolutely not.”

Martin blew a resigned breath. “Perhaps I should pay a call on Inspector Cooper and arrange for Mr. Saunders’s release.”

“We shall all go,” India said firmly. The least she could do was play a part in his rescue. Besides, he would probably be a little more inclined to accept her apology if she helped free him.

“You shall ride in my carriage with me, Miss Prendergast.” Lady Blodgett started toward the door. “Sir Martin, you shall have to take a cab.”

“But—”

Lady Blodgett’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes, of course,” Martin murmured. “A cab it is then.”

A few minutes later, they were on their way. India could barely sit still. She tried and dismissed a dozen different ways of saying what had to be said. Perhaps it was best simply to blurt it all out. That she was wrong. That she had gravely misjudged him. That she loved him. That she prayed he still loved her.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Lady Blodgett turned toward her. “Before we go inside, I do need to clarify one point.”

“Very well,” India said cautiously.

The older lady studied her closely. “You harbor a certain affection for my nephew, do you not?”

India nodded.

“Dare I assume you are in love with him?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Excellent.” Lady Blodgett beamed. “Then we should go in.”

They stepped out of the carriage, and India realized this was wrong. Poor, dear Lady Blodgett’s mind was perhaps not as sharp as it once was.

“Lady Blodgett.” India took the older woman’s arm and gently turned her back to the carriage. “We’re going to Newgate, not the Explorers Club.”

“You must have misunderstood, Miss Prendergast.” Lady Blodgett shook off India’s hand then took her elbow in a shockingly firm grip and steered her toward the door. “Effie is giving a lecture today on the perils of lost luggage.”

“No one understands the importance of that particular topic more than I, but we do need to arrange for Derek’s release.”

“Oh, he’s not in prison.”

“But you said—”

“I believe what I said was that he had been taken to Newgate. I did not say he stayed.”

“But you sent Sir Martin—”

“One makes mistakes when one is old and feeble, dear,” she said in a lofty manner.

India stared. There was nothing feeble about Lady Blodgett.

The older woman led the way into the building. “Derek has, in fact, spent much of the day in the final arrangements of a business transaction.” They stepped into the Lady Travelers lecture hall.

“Then where is he?”

“Hush.” Lady Blodgett nodded toward the podium. Mrs. Higginbotham had already begun speaking. She was flanked on either side by large rectangular shapes covered with sheeting. Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore sat in a chair behind her. The room was impressively full. Lady Blodgett leaned close to India and spoke softly. “There doesn’t seem to be an empty chair. Why don’t you wait here while I join Effie and Poppy on the podium?”

India was not about to argue with an elderly woman in a room full of older ladies listening to how not to lose their luggage. At the moment she was entirely too restless to sit and much preferred to stand at the back of the room. Besides, she had yet to see Derek and obviously would get no further information from Lady Blodgett until Mrs. Higginbotham was finished.

“Here, we have a properly addressed and labeled trunk.” Mrs. Higginbotham pulled off the sheet on the form to her right to reveal a new trunk covered in checked canvas with wood slats, leather bindings and brass accents. “This arrived only today from Paris.”

“With your new clothes inside,” a voice said quietly beside her. “Mother sent it.”

“Derek!” Her pulse jumped.

“Quiet.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “Aunt Guinevere does not like interruptions during the lectures.”

“Yes, of course, but we have a great deal to talk about.” It was all she could do to keep from throwing her arms around him.

“Shh.” He nodded toward the podium. He certainly seemed to have no difficulty keeping himself in check. Her heart sank.

“And here we have a wretched example of what happens when luggage is not addressed properly.” Mrs. Higginbotham aimed a chastising look at her audience, as if each and every one of them was complicit in the mislabeling of luggage. “While intended for shipment to Paris—” She pulled the cover off the second covered shape.

India gasped. “That’s my trunk!”

“It instead traveled to Prague.”

India stared. “Prague?”

“These things happen you know.” Derek shrugged. “Prague, Paris, it’s an easy mistake.”

“No, it’s not.” India shook her head. “Prague and Paris are not at all alike save that they begin with P.” She narrowed her eyes. “You filled out the luggage labels before we left London.”

“Did I?” He smiled in an overly innocent manner. “I really can’t recall. And it scarcely matters as you now have your trunk back.”

“Derek—”

“Mr. Saunders.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s voice rang from the podium. “Might I suggest you take your discussion out of the room so that the attention of everyone here will be on today’s topic of lost luggage rather than straining to hear what you and Miss Prendergast have to say to each other? Although I am certain it is fascinating.”

“Quite right, Mrs. Higginbotham, it is fascinating. My apologies.” Derek nodded to the rest of the group. “Ladies.”

He grabbed India’s hand and fairly dragged her out of the room. The moment the doors closed behind them, he turned to her.

“Derek, I—”

He pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers, stealing her breath and searing her heart. At last he raised his head from hers and grinned down at her. “Good day, Miss Prendergast.”

“Mr. Saunders.” She stared up at him. Why was it with this man she rarely knew what to say? “You look...well.”

He laughed. “Not bad for a man newly released from prison.”

She winced. “I am sorry about that. Sir Martin thought—”

Derek’s brow rose. “It was his doing?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Not yours?”

“No.” She sighed. “Even before I found out the truth about the Lady Travelers Society and your great-aunt and her friends, I didn’t want you incarcerated.”

“I would prefer to stay out of prison.”

“And keep Lady Blodgett and the others out of prison, as well.”

He nodded. “I have made arrangements to ensure the society is completely aboveboard in the future.”

“Oh?”

“Lord Westvale has a number of business interests and associates. One of them is something of a travel entrepreneur who thinks the idea of a travel society and agency aimed at women is brilliant. He is purchasing the assets of the society—mostly the membership rolls and the name—along with the services of Aunt Guinevere and her friends. They will receive a tidy initial sum as well as a quarterly stipend for their continued services. They will also remain the public face of the society, and will continue to give their lectures and their advice for as long as they wish to do so. They will not, however, arrange any travel. Ever.”

She laughed. “Brilliant solution.”

He grinned. “I thought so.”

She studied him closely. “I haven’t reformed you then, have I?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Because there was nothing to reform.”

“Not when it comes to the Lady Travelers Society.” He chuckled. “I am sorry you’re disappointed, but I daresay I have any number of other wicked ways that you may turn your attention to.”

“You intend to go on with your wicked ways?”

“Absolutely.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “As reforming me will keep you extremely busy.”

“Good.” She shivered beneath his touch and resisted the urge to melt into a small puddle at his feet. “Oh, as for my saying I was not the type of woman you should marry—”

“You were wrong.”

She frowned. “Am I to spend the rest of my life being wrong about everything?”

“I do hope so.” He grinned against her neck. “Think of the fun we will have.”

The most tantalizing sense of anticipation filled her at the idea of exactly what that fun entailed. A feeling obviously attributable to the caress of his lips, which was indeed most delightful. She tried and failed to hide the breathless note in her voice. “I now see all those very legitimate reasons why we cannot wed are silly. Therefore, I am now willing to marry you.”

He raised his head and stared down at her. “I don’t believe I’ve asked.”

“I am well aware of that.” She huffed. “It is most annoying. Although you did state your intentions quite clearly.”

“Regardless...” He shook his head regretfully. “I don’t think a man can be held to anything he might say when he is not fully clothed.”

“Very well then.” She shrugged. “Don’t marry me.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you going to do this for the rest of my life?”

“Do what?”

“Drive me stark, raving mad.”

She stifled the laughter bubbling up inside her. “I do hope so, Derek.” She slid her arms around his neck and pulled his lips back to hers. What she’d found—what they’d found—certainly wasn’t sensible or practical or rational. She doubted if anything connected to love would be at all efficient or organized. Odd that none of that mattered in the least compared to the sheer joy of being in his arms. Of him in her life. The carefree scoundrel and the sensible spinster.

For now, and for the rest of their days.

It made absolutely no sense at all.

* * *

THE DOOR TO the lecture hall quietly closed.

“Do you think they saw us?” Poppy’s gaze slid from one friend to the next.

“Oh, I doubt it.” Gwen waved off the question. “I suspect they wouldn’t have cared anyway. And we only had the door open a crack. As it was, the three of us had to jostle for position.”

“Poppy would barely let anyone else get a look.” Effie glared at the other woman.

“There really wasn’t much to see,” Poppy murmured. “But it was quite lovely.”

“Nor do we wish to intrude,” Gwen said firmly. “We simply wanted to confirm our suspicions, and now we have.”

“It’s perfect.” Poppy sighed, a wistful smile curving her lips. “Simply perfect.”

“Another successful journey completed.” Gwen nodded with satisfaction. “Thanks to us.”

Effie frowned. “We didn’t do anything.”

“One could argue if we hadn’t started the Lady Travelers Society in the first place,” Poppy said slowly, “Derek wouldn’t have had to try to find Lady Heloise and India wouldn’t have insisted on accompanying him.”

“We don’t know exactly what transpired in Paris. They didn’t find Lady Heloise, after all.” Effie paused. “But it does appear to have worked out well.”

“My dear friend, you know as well as I that the end of the road is never as important as the journey taken to get there. The grail is never as important as the quest. And as it is to our credit that my nephew and Miss Prendergast began the quest in the first place, we can legitimately take credit for the outcome.”

“We certainly would have received the blame had it not gone well.” Effie shuddered.

“Exactly.” Gwen nodded with satisfaction. “I believe we can consider the Lady Travelers Society a most successful venture.”

“I know I haven’t had this much fun in years,” Effie said with a thoughtful smile. “I never expected that.”

“Neither did I.” Poppy grinned. “And I must say I feel younger.”

“An added benefit.” Gwen laughed. “And who knows where the next road may lead.” She cast an affectionate smile at these dear women who had been by her side for much of her journey through life and would be until they had all breathed their last.

“And I know I, for one, cannot wait.”

* * * * *

The Proper Way

to Stop a Wedding

(in Seven Days or Less)

Contents

THE BIGINNING

DAY ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

DAY TWO

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DAY FIVE

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DAY SIX

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Beginning

MISS CELIA BROMLEY refused to ruin her half sister Katherine’s wedding.

Even if Celia did not especially like Katherine.

Even if Katherine detested Celia.

Even if Celia had fallen madly, irrevocably, hopelessly in love with Katherine’s groom.

Day One

CHAPTER ONE

Danby Manor, May 1855

“ARE THERE ANY QUESTIONS?” Guinevere Blodgett beamed at her dearest friends in the world. Friends who had set aside everything in their own lives to come to Danby Manor at her request. But then wasn’t that what friends were for?

Mrs. Ophelia Higginbotham and Mrs. Persephone Fitzhew-Wellmore—Effie and Poppy to those who knew them best—traded glances.

“Clarification more than questions,” Effie began. “Apparently, you have sent for us so that we may help you in the preparations for the wedding that is to occur in one week’s time. A wedding that really has nothing to do with you as it’s the wedding of your niece’s half sister to an earl’s brother.”

“And you have been, oh, lured into assisting,” Poppy continued.

“Exactly.” Gwen blew a long breath. “It wasn’t by choice, believe me.” She had arrived at Danby Manor two days ago and realized at once someone needed to take things in hand. And as the bride’s father—and then the groom’s brother upon her arrival—had asked her to do so, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. There was entirely too much at stake. “You are both well aware that since my sister died, I have not been as close to Celia as I would have liked.”

“Because of that beast of a father of hers.” Effie sniffed. “And that woman.”

“As much as I would like to blame them fully, much of the fault lies with me.” Gwen twisted her hands together and paced absently. “I should have taken steps to ensure I saw Celia more frequently but they have always lived in the country and my life is in London. And Celia was usually away at school. But we do correspond regularly...” Gwen cringed, well aware of how feeble her excuse sounded. As indeed it was.

Gwen’s sister, Viviane, had married Alfred, Viscount Bromley, a widower with two young daughters—Katherine and Louise. Viviane had promptly given him Celia but had unfortunately succumbed to influenza some twelve years later, leaving the household in the hands of Miss Frances Quince, Alfred’s first wife’s sister—also known as that woman. She had immediately taken up residence, assumed the position of mistress of the house and had sent all three girls away to school, no doubt in the hope that should the legal prohibition to marrying the sister of one’s deceased wife someday be abolished she would be in an excellent position. From what Gwen had ascertained through the years, Miss Quince was inordinately ambitious and wanted nothing more than to be the next viscountess. The older girls blamed their banishment on their half sister. Katherine and Louise had never considered Celia their true sister. A belief no doubt encouraged by Miss Quince.

“You’re not being at all fair to yourself,” Poppy said firmly. “We have watched you time and again try to see Celia only to be rebuffed by her father and that woman. And you did manage to visit with her when the family was in London a few months ago.”

“Only twice. Even so, I should have tried harder.” Gwen sighed then straightened her shoulders. “Regardless, I was asked by Alfred to come here to Danby to assist in Katherine’s wedding. Apparently Miss Quince is not quite up to arranging a social event of this magnitude and is driving Alfred and his daughters mad.”

“Not that they don’t deserve it,” Effie muttered.

“I could not agree more but—” Gwen fixed Effie with a firm look “—if this wedding does not go well, it will reflect upon the entire family. I want nothing more than to see Celia married to a good man and I think it’s past time the three of us did something about that. And we shall start the moment we have put Katherine’s wedding behind us.”

“How delightful.” Poppy grinned. “I’ve always enjoyed playing matchmaker.”

“But Celia’s cause will not be helped if this wedding is a shambles. The gossip would ruin any chances she might have at a good match. Reputation, as you know, is everything.”

“Might I point out that Alfred’s excessive gambling and loss of the family’s fortunes to the point where none of his daughters had a season has already damaged that reputation beyond repair?” Effie said in a deceptively mild manner.

“Come now, half the gentry in England has exceptionally bad habits and lives on credit.” Gwen waved off the comment. “The trick is not to acknowledge that publicly. Society runs on illusion. As Katherine is to marry the twin brother of the Earl of Danby, the guest list is extensive and socially prominent.”

“No surprise there,” Effie murmured.

“If this wedding is a disaster, I dare not think what the repercussions for Celia’s future will be.” Gwen shuddered. “The groom’s mother died several years ago, so apparently I am the closest female relation on either side. Except for Miss Quince, of course, who does seem unable to manage this.”

Gwen had realized very nearly the moment she arrived that the social events Miss Quince and Katherine had planned leading up to the wedding, as well as the nuptials themselves, were both extravagant and complex. But then the groom’s brother was paying for it all. While Miss Quince had said no expense would be spared, Gwen suspected the earl was a bit less than thrilled at the expenditures even if he did seem to care too much for his brother to protest. At least thus far.

“Well, we are here now.” Effie offered a feeble smile. “And it’s not as if we had anything better to do.”

A not uncommon occurrence, as the husbands of all three women were currently out of the country. Charles Blodgett and Malcomb Fitzhew-Wellmore were both engaged in pursuits of exploration, and Effie’s husband, William, was a military officer currently in the Crimea. Gwen and Poppy considered it their duty as her friends to keep Effie’s mind off the war as much as possible—a difficult task given the papers were full of reports of battles and men lost or wounded.

It was their husbands’ penchant for wandering the world in the name of exploration or in service to Her Majesty that had led to the three women meeting in the first place, some ten or so years ago. They were of a similar age—all three now past their forty-fifth year—none of them had been blessed with children, nor did any of them have much in the way of family, and they became as close as sisters. Indeed, they thought of themselves as such.

“I for one am delighted to lend my assistance. I love weddings.” Poppy nodded enthusiastically. “What exactly do you want us to do?”

“Unfortunately, there are any number of details still to be arranged. I’m certain, between the three of us, we shall overcome any difficulties, although this is a bit more complicated than one might expect.” Gwen braced herself and favored her friends with a confident smile. “In addition to the wedding itself—which I understand is more restrained than the bride had originally wanted at the request of the groom—there is to be a rather grand pre-wedding ball.”

Goodness, one would have thought Gwen had tossed a bucket of cold water over her friends’ heads given the disbelieving looks on their faces. Perhaps it was best to continue before either Effie or Poppy or both called for a carriage for the lengthy ride back to the nearest train station.

“However—”

“Oh, good, there’s a however,” Effie said wryly. “I was afraid there wouldn’t be.”

“Aside from ourselves and family members, there are no other guests staying here at the manor, which will make things much easier,” Gwen began.

“Will it?” Poppy asked faintly.

Gwen ignored her. “While the staff seems adequately trained, they appear to have taken a rather strong dislike to Miss Quince.”

Effie snorted.

“Only the earl and his brother, Henry, inhabit the house and then only when they’re not residing in London, which apparently they do most of the year,” Gwen said. “This is a bachelor establishment, ladies. So it’s obvious why our help is so desperately needed.”

“To be expected really.” Poppy shook her head. “Men are helpless when it comes to the more practical aspects of life.”

“Hard to believe they can expertly undertake an expedition to the far corners of an unexplored jungle but they cannot manage to direct a cook to prepare toast for breakfast,” Effie added.

Gwen nodded. “There’s been no mistress at Danby since the earl’s mother died a few years ago and the staff might be a bit lax.”

“Then we had best get started.” Effie drew a bracing breath. “What exactly do you want us to do first?”

“You have both been traveling today and I know how wearing that is, so, for the moment, I want you to do nothing more than rest,” Gwen said firmly.

“To gather our strength, no doubt.” Effie’s brow furrowed. “As we shall obviously need it.”

“I have made lists of all that must be accomplished as well as charts delegating who should do what on which day and so on and so forth. I shall distribute those at tea and we can discuss all the details then.”

“Will Miss Quince be assisting us?” Poppy asked.

“She has taken to her bed with a sick headache.” Gwen shook her head in a mournful manner and summoned up her most sympathetic expression. “Poor dear.”

“Poor dear, indeed.” Effie tried and failed to look appropriately concerned but then Effie, and Poppy as well, held Miss Quince only slightly less responsible for keeping Gwen from her niece than they did Celia’s father.

“One more thing.” Gwen hesitated. She wasn’t at all sure if she was right but something odd had struck her the first night at dinner and then again last night. It was subtle and she could very easily be wrong. “You are both intelligent women and have been known to be quite observant. Do let me know if you notice anything...unexpected.”

Once again her friends traded looks.

“What do you mean by ‘unexpected’?” Caution sounded in Effie’s voice.

“Goodness, Effie.” Gwen huffed. “If I could tell you that, it wouldn’t be at all unexpected but rather extremely expected. Don’t you think?”

Effie’s eyes narrowed.

“Besides, I want your unbiased, completely dispassionate opinion.” Gwen chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Suffice it to say, I’m not sure all is as it appears. Or perhaps as it should be. I might well be wrong. However, if I’m right...”

Effie grinned. “I do love your howevers.”

“If I’m right...” Gwen settled her gaze first on Poppy then shifted to Effie. “We shall have to take it upon ourselves to do something about it.”

CHAPTER TWO

“MRS. BLODGETT, MRS. HIGGINBOTHAM and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore—” Edward, the Earl of Danby, stood at the head of the dinner table and raised his glass in a toast “—welcome to Danby Manor. I cannot remember the last time so many lovely guests were gathered around this table. Thank you for improving the conversation—” he grinned “—and the view.”

“Allow me to add my thanks, as well.” Henry Saunders favored the newcomers with a welcoming smile then retook his seat.

It was indeed unusual to have any guests at all at the country house and rarer still to have ladies in residence. But between Katherine, her sisters Louise and Celia, Celia’s aunt and her aunt’s friends, the men in residence were outnumbered two to one. More, really, if one included Miss Quince, who was indisposed tonight and not at dinner. Apparently it took a flock of women to arrange a week of prenuptial events culminating in the extravaganza that would mark the joining in marriage of a man and a woman. Henry believed he might have heard doves mentioned but he preferred not to think about it. If he had his way, the ceremony would be simple and the celebration restrained.

His gaze caught his fiancée’s. Katherine was seated beside Edward at the head of the table; her sister Louise sat on his left, devoting all of her attention to Edward. Hoping to ensnare another Saunders brother, no doubt. Katherine cast him a brilliant, perfect smile and a wave of shame washed through him. Even if his thoughts about Louise were true, they were unkind. After all, she would be his sister-in-law when he married the incomparable Katherine.

Katherine Bromley might well have been the most beautiful woman Henry Saunders had ever seen. He was realistic enough about himself to understand that was why he was originally attracted to her. With her dark hair, vivid green eyes and delectable figure, she was the center of attention anywhere. When he met her, a scant three months ago, he had been most grateful none of the Bromley daughters had had an official season. Katherine would have been snatched up immediately, in spite of the family’s financial difficulties. As it was, she had reached the advanced age of twenty-four without having wed. Henry had fallen head over heels for her very nearly at first sight.

It was not at all like him. While Edward—Ned to his brother—was the older of the twin brothers, and as such the one who had inherited the title of Earl of Danby from their father, Henry was the more sensible and responsible of the two. Ned often said it was a pity he was born a few minutes sooner as Henry had the temperament and the nature to be an excellent earl. Admittedly, Ned had spent the first few years after Father’s death continuing his wild ways with little regard to the duties that had been thrust upon him, and Henry had been the one to make certain the needs of the estates and the family’s business interests were met. It wasn’t until their mother had died three years ago that Ned had finally accepted his fate. As if Mother’s death had brought home to him the full responsibilities of his position. It had come as a shock to Henry when he realized his devil-may-care brother had become—for lack of a better word—an adult. Now the brothers worked together in a congenial and productive manner that served them both well.

In spite of being twins, their appearance was as individual as their natures. In their youth, they had often bemoaned the unfairness of not being identical and able to pass for each other. While they shared similar dark hair and brown eyes, and did indeed look like brothers, Henry was a few inches taller than Ned with a slighter build, whereas the earl’s shoulders were broader, his form more solid. Both were considered above average in appearance, although Ned had always been rather dashing and exuberant, while Henry was far quieter and inclined toward pursuits of a scholarly nature.

Now, at the age of twenty-seven, both men were viewed as extremely eligible bachelors. While Henry had a significant fortune in his own right, Ned, of course, was a better catch and was hotly pursued by young ladies eager to be a countess and their equally eager mothers hoping to snag a title for their family. It was another mark of the disparity between the brothers that if anyone was asked which of the two was more likely to lose his head over a beautiful woman, Ned was the brother who came to mind, as he had indeed done so any number of times in the past.

Of course, he’d never been so stupid as to ask for their hand in marriage.

“You are a lucky man, Henry.”

“Lucky?” His attention jerked to the lady seated beside him. Mrs. Blodgett was somewhere in her forties and was quite lovely for her age. As were her friends.

“Indeed.” She nodded in Katherine’s direction. “Katherine will make a beautiful bride.”

“Oh, yes, Katherine.” He smiled. “I am most fortunate.”

It had all happened so fast. In hindsight, Henry wasn’t sure how it had happened at all. Katherine was in many ways perfect—every man’s dream come to life. And from the beginning, she was interested in him. That alone made her almost irresistible. Henry was used to being second to his brother, especially when it came to women, and he had never especially cared. But Katherine had eyes only for him.

He had been enamored of her in a lost-puppy sort of way from the moment they’d met. She had quite frankly swept him off his feet. It was as if he had been sucked into a whirlpool, an unrelenting force of nature. One moment she was gazing into his eyes and the next he’d been engaged. He had no idea what he had said but it had been heartfelt. Katherine had thought it important to wed as soon as possible, saying now that they had found each other, it would be foolish to put off starting their lives together. It had been terribly romantic and he had agreed wholeheartedly. Now it seemed absurd and ill-advised and rather stupid. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had feared he might change his mind. Indeed, by the time he’d realized what a huge mistake this was, he was well on his way to the altar.

The enormity of his error in judgment loomed over him like a forbidding cloud, made all the darker for its unfamiliarity. Henry did not make mistakes. Nor was he ever the brother in the midst of a storm.

No, Henry Saunders was the responsible one. The one who should have been born first. He’d wondered on occasion why he hadn’t as his nature was far more suited to the duties of the position of earl than his brother. But for all his acceptance of responsibility, he’d never had any desire for the title and everything it entailed. Indeed, his life was quite pleasant. He had the financial means to do as he wanted, the time to spend as he wished, satisfying work to fill his days and a staff that was as much family as employees. Someday, he expected to find a wife that would fit nicely into that life. He had certainly been with women, although he was not as accomplished in that respect as his brother. But he had only once before thought himself in love. He certainly never expected to fall in love again very nearly at first sight.

Or to fall out of love just as quickly.

“I’m afraid I don’t know her well.” Mrs. Blodgett studied Katherine. “Although she seems quite pleasant.”

“Doesn’t she, though?” Henry said without thinking then winced to himself. His comment was more telling than he had planned. Unfortunately, the more he grew to know Katherine, the less he wished to spend the rest of his life with her. He’d never been engaged before but he was fairly certain one should not think of one’s future wife as shallow, vain and selfish. Worse, while she had seemed to adore him initially, now her feelings struck him as more rehearsed than genuine.

The fact of the matter was that he and Katherine shared no common ground. There was nothing Henry enjoyed more than immersing himself in a good book. Katherine disdained literature, preferring ladies’ magazines, more for the fashion than any literary offerings. Henry preferred a quiet life with no more than a moderate number of social functions, whereas much of Katherine’s talk of the future centered around the parties and soirees and balls they would attend after their marriage. Henry enjoyed museums and galleries and was intrigued by new artists. Katherine thought history was best left in the past and her idea of fine art was something created by a prestigious artist that looked nice on a wall. Aside from preparations for the wedding, much of her time was spent with her aunt and sister Louise planning how to decorate his house in London and discussions of what kind of grand house she wished him to build in the country. Henry had never particularly thought about money—although it was nice to have—and while he’d never been especially frugal, neither did he spend with wild abandon. Katherine was freely spending his family’s money for the week’s festivities. Admittedly, it was understandable given her own family’s finances, and while Henry did not begrudge her that, he did hope this was just a momentary indulgence on her part. He feared he was wrong.

“My apologies, Mrs. Blodgett, but I’m afraid I’m confused. I would have assumed you knew Katherine, as well as the rest of the family, quite well.”

“One would assume that.” Mrs. Blodgett studied Celia sitting across the table from them, talking in an animated manner to Mrs. Higginbotham. “My sister was Celia’s mother. Unfortunately, after her death, I was not able to see my niece as often as I would have liked.”

“I gather you regret that.”

A wry smile curved her lips. “You are remarkably perceptive, Henry.”

“Some things are obvious, Mrs. Blodgett.” He smiled, his gaze following hers. “At least to me.”

Try as he might, he could not keep his thoughts off Katherine’s youngest sister. Fair-haired and petite in stature, Celia wasn’t as stunning as Katherine, but simply quite lovely in a quiet sort of way. There was something about Celia Bromley that was almost irresistible. Henry couldn’t truly describe it and was afraid to try. From the moment he’d met her, quite by accident at one of his favorite booksellers’, the moment he’d looked into her blue eyes, something inside of him had clicked like the turn of a key in a lock, as if all the puzzle pieces of his life had abruptly snapped into place. He’d had the strangest sense of recognition somewhere deep in his soul, as if they’d been destined to meet or had met before or had known each other always. The French called it coup de foudre, a bolt of lightning. Love at first sight. It was absurd of course. Only the French would give credence to such a thing. Silly, spontaneous feelings that struck without warning were certainly not to be trusted, not by a rational, sensible man.

Regardless, he’d found himself returning to the bookseller’s more frequently than was his habit in hopes of meeting her again. It was hopeless, really—he didn’t even know her name. Henry put any thought of her out of his mind and managed to convince himself whatever he had experienced was due no doubt to the onset of a cold or something he’d eaten that had disagreed with him, or simply dwelling on the incident gave it more importance than it warranted. Then he met Katherine and his life changed irrevocably. It wasn’t until he’d already asked for her hand that he was introduced to her sisters and realized the awful, glaring truth. His brief encounter was his new fiancée’s younger half sister. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been so susceptible to Katherine’s charms because somewhere deep inside he was mourning the loss of something he’d never had.

Neither of them acknowledged their previous encounter, at least not aloud. What difference did it make anyway? It was too late. He was to marry her sister and no matter what feelings Celia Bromley might stir inside him, there could be nothing between them. Still, in spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering in her direction. Couldn’t stop the odd twisting of his heart when she was near. Couldn’t prevent thoughts of her that lingered in his mind and invaded his dreams. Without warning, Celia turned her head and her gaze met his. For a moment, it was as if all the air had rushed out of the room. As always, the look in her eyes was a reflection of his own—a mix of caution and longing and resignation. Not that either of them had ever admitted such a thing. Nor would they.

“Indeed, Henry, some things are more than obvious.”

His gaze snapped back to Mrs. Blodgett and at once he realized his mistake. A truly innocent man would not have taken her casual comment as an indictment. But Mrs. Blodgett simply smiled in an innocuous manner and promptly changed the subject. “Your brother says you are quite interested in antiquities and all things ancient.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Indeed I am.”

“My husband and some of his associates have been discussing an expedition to find the lost city of Troy.”

“Really?” Henry stared. “What an extraordinary adventure that would be.”

“Charles is a most adventurous sort and the more extraordinary the better.” She smiled in an affectionate manner.

“You must miss him when he’s away on his extraordinary adventures.”

“Indeed I do but someday I shall wear down his resistance and he shall take me with him.”

“But you’re a woman.”

“How clever of you to notice, Henry.”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean—”

“No apology needed.” She waved off his comment. “Even in these modern times, the idea of a woman traveling anywhere not considered completely civilized is unthinkable. I do hope that will change one day but I am not overly optimistic. It is universally accepted that a woman’s place is to be safely left behind to tend to house and home.”

“And you disagree with that?” Caution edged his voice.

“Not entirely but even the most content among us can occasionally long for something a little more exciting. For now, I suppose we need to console ourselves with adventures of a less extraordinary nature.” She smiled. “Walking down the path of life hand in hand with the right person is something of an adventure in and of itself. When one’s heart is engaged—” she glanced down the table at Katherine “—it can be the most extraordinary adventure of all.”

“No doubt,” Henry said faintly.

It was bad enough to realize one wasn’t in love with the woman one was committed to marry, but to accept the awful growing conviction that one didn’t especially like her was much worse. But even that paled in the face of the horrible truth of the matter.

Henry Saunders had indeed found the love of his life and there was nothing he could do about it.

CHAPTER THREE

WHAT AN ABSURD SITUATION. What a ridiculous thing to have happened.

Celia Bromley paced the width of the room allotted her in Danby Manor. She wasn’t sure how it had happened—it certainly wasn’t intentional. Fate was no doubt to blame. Of course, if one believed in fate, then this was even worse as—

A knock sounded at her door.

“Come in,” she said with relief. A distraction from her own thoughts would be most welcome.

The door opened and Aunt Guinevere popped her head in. “Are you busy, Celia? Might I join you for a chat?”

“Of course, Aunt Guinevere.” She could think of nothing better to take her mind off Henry Saunders’s brown eyes and engaging smile. “Please come in.”

Aunt Guinevere stepped into the room, closed the door behind her and looked around. “My, this is lovely.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Celia smiled.

She’d never in her life had a bedchamber this nice. Of course, she’d never had one quite so large, either. No, the rooms at home at Bromwick Abbey were neither as gracious nor as beautifully appointed as those here. Danby Manor was most impressive and the abbey had seen better days. But then that was the price one paid when one’s home was more than five hundred years old, had started life as a humble monastery and had never had an owner interested in more than a modest expansion.

“No wonder Katherine and Miss Quince had insisted on arriving well in advance of the wedding,” Aunt Guinevere said, still surveying the room.

Katherine and Aunt Frances had thought it best to take up residence at Danby a full month before the wedding with the excuse that there was a great deal to be done. There was indeed, but Celia was certain the lure of elegance and comfort to be found at the manor was ultimately responsible for the family’s lengthy stay.

It would have been much better for all concerned if they just sent the bride and her aunt. But of course that would never do. There were questions of propriety about two unmarried women residing in the same house with two unmarried gentlemen—no matter how grand the house. Regardless of his other failings, Father was a stickler for propriety when it came to the reputations of his daughters. Pity he hadn’t been a bit more concerned about his own reputation—especially when it came to matters of finance. But Father had never quite grasped the idea that once his inherited funds were expended, there would be no more without some sort of effort on his part. Nor did he seem to understand gambling was perhaps not the best method for acquiring an income—especially if one was not particularly skilled or lucky. Fortunately, her grandfather had recognized this flaw in his heir and had set aside funding—managed by inflexible solicitors—to provide for schooling and minimal dowries for his granddaughters as well as a small, untouchable trust that provided an extremely modest yearly income. Not large enough to claim their place in society but sufficient to keep a roof over their heads.

“I am sorry I didn’t see more of you when you were in London.” Aunt Guinevere settled in one of two matching lady’s chairs positioned by the window that overlooked the back garden.

“As am I but it couldn’t be helped,” Celia said with a smile. “We were only in London for a few months and we did manage to see each other twice.” Even that had been difficult to arrange. Neither Father nor Aunt Frances had ever liked Aunt Guinevere but then Celia was fairly certain the feelings were mutual. But she and Aunt Guinevere wrote frequently and that was nearly as good as seeing one another in person.

“And did you enjoy your stay?”

“Oh, Aunt Guinevere, it was truly wonderful.” Celia leaned toward the older woman. “I went to the Tower and the Zoological Gardens, and the Society of Antiquaries museum, and Madame Tussaud’s, and Soane’s Museum and, well, everywhere. I spent a great deal of time at the National Gallery and the British Museum.”

The older woman bit back a smile. “I believe you mentioned some of that when we met in London.”

“Probably, but it’s worth repeating.” Celia grinned. “I think I could quite happily spend every day for the rest of my life going back and forth between the National Gallery and the British Museum.”

“There are worse ways to spend your life.” Aunt Guinevere smiled. “The British Museum is where I met your uncle Charles, you know. We were both attending a lecture on Etruscan artifacts.”

“I intend to live in London one day,” Celia said firmly.

That she had managed to visit London at all was something of a miracle and due entirely to Aunt Frances. Unbeknownst to anyone else in the family, Aunt Frances had received a small inheritance. She had wisely kept her windfall to herself as Father would have insisted she contribute to the family coffers given he provided a home for her. Regardless, at the beginning of the new year, Aunt Frances had decreed they would reside in London for several months in an effort to find a wealthy, well-connected husband for Katherine—who was not getting any younger—and hopefully Louise and Celia as well before all three girls became spinsters and remained their father’s responsibility for the rest of their lives. Father agreed without hesitation. The idea of three less people demanding he give up his foolish ways and do something of worth with his life was irresistible to him. And, as Frances had the money to pay for letting a London residence, it seemed an excellent plan.

Unfortunately, London society was not overly interested in sisters aged twenty-four, twenty-three and nineteen no matter how lovely or accomplished they were. Still, Aunt Frances was determined to see at least one—if not all three girls—wed and did manage a few invitations, mostly for Katherine and Louise. Katherine had done her part by meeting and enchanting the brother of an earl, who reportedly had a significant income, even if he was not her first choice. Celia had no illusions about her older sister. Katherine was almost as clever as she was mercenary. She immediately realized she did not appeal to the earl and set her sights on his brother.

“I know I would never want to live anywhere else.” Aunt Guinevere paused. “Will Katherine and Henry be living in London after they’re wed?”

“I believe so. Henry and his brother manage the family business interests and Henry has a lovely house in Mayfair.”

It was at Henry’s house that Celia had discovered the gentleman she’d had a chance conversation with at a bookstore, the man she couldn’t get out of her head, was soon to be her brother-in-law. He had already asked for Katherine’s hand and had invited the rest of the family and his brother to join him for dinner. It was an evening of revelation in any number of ways.

For one thing—Henry Saunders wasn’t at all the type one would have thought would appeal to Katherine. He was handsome in a quiet sort of way but not the kind of man one read about in novels of romance or adventure. One did not swoon with immediate passion when meeting the calm, self-possessed Mr. Henry Saunders. He was obviously intelligent and scholarly and somewhat restrained, in contrast to his brother, who was brash and amusing and worldly.

Indeed, upon one’s first meeting one might have thought Henry entirely too somber, even cold in nature. Until one gazed into his brown eyes and saw compassion and intelligence and all manner of wicked amusement. And the oddest sort of recognition. As if he saw something in her no one else had ever seen. The moment he touched her hand, the strangest sense of awareness shot through her as if she had just met her fate. It was at once terrifying and exciting and utterly hopeless.

“He seems quite pleasant.”

Celia’s gaze shot to her aunt’s. “Who?”

“Why, Henry of course. Mr. Saunders.” Aunt Guinevere’s brow arched upward. “Were we speaking of someone else?”

“No, of course not. Sorry, my mind must have wandered.” Precisely as it had done since the moment she’d met Henry. She drew a deep breath in hopes of regaining some semblance of composure. “Henry is very nice and very clever and a man of honor.”

“Not the kind of man to go back on his word, then?”

Celia shook her head. “Good Lord, no.”

No, she thought sadly, Henry Saunders was not the type to rescind an offer of marriage even if he discovered his fiancée was petty and greedy and not an especially nice person. Even if he realized he was making a horrendous mistake.

Even if the look in his eyes when his gaze met his fiancée’s younger sister’s matched the feelings in that sister’s heart.

Henry was as fine a man as Celia had ever met and deserved better than Katherine. But, although Katherine, and Louise as well, had never considered Celia anything other than a mistake on their father’s part, Celia could not bring herself to tell Henry that Katherine’s interest was more in his family’s position and his fortune than it was in him. Family, after all, deserved one’s loyalty even if members of that family had done nothing to warrant it.

“One might say a moment of dishonor,” her aunt said slowly, “might be worth avoiding a lifetime of misery.”

Celia frowned. “What do you mean?”

Aunt Guinevere reached out and took Celia’s hand. “What I mean, my dear child, is that Henry Saunders gives every appearance of a man in love.”

“Not surprising.” Celia’s stomach lurched. “He is, after all, to be married in a week.”

“Celia dear—” Aunt Guinevere paused to gather her thoughts “—I have been married for more than twenty-three years and in love for longer than that. I have learned to recognize that feeling in other people. It’s really not hard if one pays attention. But few people do. Especially not in this house. Except perhaps for the earl.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Celia lied.

“I’m talking about the way Henry looks at you and the way you look at him.”

“Oh, well, that’s really not...”

“Even Poppy and Effie noticed. We discussed it right before I came to speak to you.”

Celia started to deny it but her aunt would never believe her. “It scarcely matters.” She drew a deep breath. “Regardless of how I feel about him, of how he might feel about me...it’s pointless. Surely you see that?”

“What I see is a man about to plunge into a lifetime with a woman I suspect he doesn’t even like.” Her brows drew together. “Has Katherine always been this—Oh, I don’t know what the word is. So many come to mind.”

Celia bit back a smile. “I’m afraid so.”

“And does she usually look at you as if there was something quite vile about you?”

Celia laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

Aunt Guinevere stared as if she’d just realized—or perhaps accepted—something quite awful. “I have done you a terrible disservice.” She shook her head. “I should have rescued you from that household years ago. Between those dreadful half sisters of yours and the frightful Miss Quince—can you ever forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Celia shrugged. “I was away at school most of the time. I’ve only resided at the abbey since I graduated. And Father isn’t so bad. Although it’s not especially gratifying to realize your father is not the cleverest man in the world.”

Aunt Guinevere choked back a laugh.

“Neither Katherine nor Louise has ever liked me, which bothered me a great deal when I was young but I had Mother then.” Celia paused. It had been seven years since her mother had died but there were moments when the grief was as fresh as if it had been yesterday. “After she died, I realized it was silly to continue to try to earn their affection, and besides, I didn’t like them, either. Aunt Frances, on the other hand, was never of any concern as she has always disliked everyone equally.” Celia grinned. “Except Father of course.”

“Even so—”

“Come now, Aunt Guinevere.” Celia pinned her with a firm look. “I am not ill-treated. I am not the heroine of some sad little fairy story. There is no need for you to feel the least bit sorry.”

“Very well, then, I won’t.” Her aunt paused. “But after the wedding, I want you to come live with me and Charles in London.”

“Live in London?” Celia’s breath caught.

“You did say you wished to live in London.”

“Someday perhaps but...” But why not now? “Very well.” She grinned. “There is nothing I would rather do.”

“Excellent.” Aunt Guinevere beamed. “Although I should warn you, it will frequently be just the two of us as Charles is always off on one exploration or another.”

“I know.” Celia considered the older woman. “I must say, I have always admired your independence.”

“I assure you, it often looks better from afar,” Aunt Guinevere said wryly. “And as much as I would miss the kind of freedom I have, I would sacrifice it without a moment’s hesitation to see more of my husband.”

“But you do so well alone.”

“I have friends, Celia. There is nothing better than friends. Unless of course it’s family.” She frowned. “Should I tell your father you’re coming to London or do you wish to?”

“Goodness, Aunt Guinevere, I’m nineteen years old, an adult fully capable of making my own decisions. I shall tell him. I daresay Father will be delighted at having one less female around.”

“Then that’s settled,” Aunt Guinevere said firmly. “Now then, we need to determine a way to stop this wedding.”

“Stop the wedding?” Celia stared.

“Of course.” The older woman nodded. “You are in love with him, aren’t you?”

“I...” Celia considered the question. She’d never been in love before but surely that was what this was. “Have you ever met someone and the very moment you looked into his eyes you knew that he was the one person in all the world for you? Knew without doubt or question as you had never known anything in your life before?”

“Once.”

“Then yes.” Celia shrugged helplessly. “Much to my dismay, I am in love with him.”

“And I would wager a great deal he is in love with you, as well. Which means we can’t possibly let poor, dear Henry marry Katherine. He’ll be miserable for the rest of his life and she will probably be fairly unhappy, as well. No, it’s best for all concerned that we find a way to stop this wedding.”

“Absolutely not.” Celia jumped to her feet, spurred as much by guilt as shock. Hadn’t the same thought occurred to her? “That would be wrong.” She paced. What was her aunt thinking? She swiveled toward the other woman. “The scandal would cast a shadow on everyone’s lives, including Henry’s and his brother’s.” She resumed pacing. “Regardless of how we feel about one another, Katherine is still my sister. I would hate to ruin her wedding, not to mention her life.”

“From what I’ve observed it’s fairly obvious her life, as well as his, will be ruined if they do marry. Barring death, marriage, my dear girl, is forever.”

“Henry will never go back on his word. It’s just not in his nature to do something like that. He’s far too honorable and kind and...” Her aunt was right. Henry and Katherine certainly weren’t in love. A bit of scandal versus an entire lifetime of unhappiness, well, it was something to consider. One might say it would be a favor to both of them to stop the wedding. Of course, Katherine would never see it that way. Still, wasn’t it Celia’s duty really to help her sister avoid spending the rest of her days in a loveless, ill-fated union? She paused in midstep. “How?”

“How?”

“How would you stop the wedding? Not that I think you should,” Celia added quickly. “I am simply curious.”

“I don’t exactly know how. Yet.” Aunt Guinevere’s brows drew together thoughtfully. “It would have to be subtle.”

“I will have no part of it,” Celia warned.

“Extremely discreet,” Aunt Guinevere murmured, obviously already working on an idea.

Celia stared. The woman was as diabolical as she was independent. There would be no stopping her now.

“Nor do I want to know any of the details.”

“Absolutely right, my dear.” Aunt Guinevere nodded firmly. “Your hand should be nowhere near this. We’ll come up with a plan. Something clever and subtle and perfect.”

Celia groaned. “Good Lord, Aunt Guinevere. You sound positively wicked.”

“Nonsense, Celia, I’m not at all wicked.” Aunt Guinevere grinned. “But I do try.”

Day Two

CHAPTER FOUR

“I TELL YOU he’s losing interest in me.” Katherine’s voice sounded faintly from Miss Quince’s room. “He’s not nearly as enthralled as he was.”

Gwen caught herself, her hand a scant inch away from knocking on Miss Quince’s door. The door stood the tiniest bit ajar, cracked open so slightly Gwen doubted the inhabitants of the room were aware of it. In spite of her best intentions and the certain knowledge that no one ever heard anything good when one eavesdropped, Gwen leaned closer to the door.

“Good Lord, Katherine.” Miss Quince huffed. “I would think you of all people would be able to keep a man’s attention.”

Gwen winced. She could well imagine the look on Katherine’s face.

“How was I to know it would even be necessary?” Katherine snapped. “It never occurred to me his attention would lag.”

“Perhaps if you were more the loving and attentive fiancée—”

“Loving and attentive?” Katherine scoffed. “He is lucky to have me. I am not the kind of woman who happens along every day. Especially not for someone as ordinary as Henry. Men like Henry rarely have women like me on their arm.” She sniffed. “He should be grateful.”

Gwen’s jaw clenched.

“Gratitude may not get you to the altar,” Frances warned.

“I realize that!” Katherine’s voice faded in and out as she apparently paced the room. “While Henry is not the most exciting man in the world, he has unquestioned honor. A man of his word, that sort of thing. He would never renege on his promise to marry me.”

Gwen resisted the urge to scoff aloud.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Miss Quince said in a placating tone.

“You are not listening to me,” Katherine said impatiently. “Something has changed. And I do worry. I worry when the look in his eye is not one of adoration but speculation. When he no longer seems eager to spend time with me. When he stops asking if I would like to go for a stroll to see the gardens or the fountains or whatever else there is to see here.”

“I thought you told him you are not fond of the out-of-doors?”

“That’s beside the point. He’s not particularly keen to be indoors with me, either. Not anymore.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Katherine blew an annoyed breath. “I don’t wish to wager my future on a man’s sense of honor. Even Henry’s. What if he decides breaking his word is less objectionable than marriage to me?”

“That’s a possibility, I suppose.” Worry sounded in Miss Quince’s voice.

“I have passed my twenty-fourth birthday. Henry is my last chance at an excellent match. The last possibility for a title and fortune and everything I—we’ve—always wanted. We have to do something.”

“One would think there would be some way to guarantee he keeps his word and marries you.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. If his word alone is not enough to ensure our marriage, I can’t imagine what else might make a man enter into a marriage he didn’t want.”

“What else...” Miss Quince sucked in a short breath and her tone brightened. “Henry wouldn’t have a choice if—” triumph sounded in her voice “—he ruined you.”

Silence fell in the room and Gwen strained to hear. Surely even Katherine wouldn’t consent to such a thing?

“Ruined me?” Katherine said thoughtfully. “You mean actual indiscretion or simply the appearance of improper behavior?”

“Given all there is to gain, it seems a small enough sacrifice.”

Gwen stifled an indignant gasp.

“That does seem to be the only answer.” Katherine sighed. “Then I shall have to join Henry in his bed tonight. Or perhaps I should already be there when he...”

Gwen carefully stepped away from the door. It wouldn’t do for Katherine or Miss Quince to know they had been overheard. Forewarned was forearmed, after all.

Any reservations she might have had about stopping Katherine’s wedding had vanished with the younger woman’s words. Determination swept through Gwen. No man deserved to be tricked into marriage. This wedding would absolutely not take place. Henry’s future, as well as Celia’s, was at stake.

A scant half an hour later, she and her friends were gathered in the small sitting room off her new bedroom.

“My mother always said listening in on a private conversation is ill-mannered.” Poppy crossed her arms in a show of moral indignation. It really didn’t suit her. “I am shocked by your behavior, Gwen. Simply shocked.”

“That’s what you find shocking about all this?” Effie scoffed. “Gwen’s behavior?”

“I expected better of her, that’s all.” Poppy paused. “Of course, the rest of it is shocking, as well.”

“And Poppy is right when one deliberately sets out to eavesdrop. That would be most improper,” Gwen said quickly. “However, in this particular instance, it was completely accidental on my part and therefore can be forgiven. I simply went to Miss Quince’s room after breakfast to discuss the arrangements for this week’s festivities. I had no idea she and Katherine would be in the midst of plotting to make certain Henry has no possible way to avoid this marriage.”

“And you actually heard them say if Katherine could find a way into Henry’s bed, he’d be trapped?” Effie asked.

“I heard it all.” Gwen shook her head. “And I do believe this casts things in an entirely different light.”

“Without question.” Poppy frowned. “Why, when you first said we needed to stop the wedding because Henry and Katherine aren’t in love and that Henry is actually in love with Celia, I felt my conscience twinge just the tiniest bit. Although I will always be on the side of love.”

“As will we all.” Gwen nodded. Poppy was a genuine romantic and even Effie—who did tend to be considerably less starry-eyed than Poppy—was a staunch believer in true love.

“But now that we know how truly despicable the bride is...” Poppy squared her shoulders. “Why, it seems to me we have no choice but to rescue poor Henry.”

“So, just to make certain I fully understand, our mission, if you will, is to—” Effie counted the points off on her fingers “—plan and coordinate the various events leading up to this wedding—now a mere six days away—”

“Goodness, Effie, while Miss Quince is somewhat overwhelmed, she did provide us with a framework of sorts.” Gwen adopted her most confident smile. “The invitations have gone out.”

“That’s something, I suppose.” Effie cast her a skeptical look. “Then aside from the invitations, we have the wedding and accompanying events to organize all while keeping the bride out of the groom’s bed—”

“Not just his bed.” Gwen narrowed her eyes. “There are all sorts of places in a house like this for an assignation.”

“There is that,” Poppy said under her breath, obviously reflecting on her own memories of amorous encounters.

“Very well, then,” Effie continued, “keeping the bride and the groom apart—”

Gwen nodded.

“—as well as devising a plan to stop the wedding altogether.” Effie studied her friend. “Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?” Gwen grinned.

“Oh, this does sound like fun.” Poppy’s eyes sparkled.

“Do you have a plan?” Effie asked. “For any of this?”

“Well, as you can see, I now occupy a different bedroom. I spoke to the butler and he has arranged different rooms for you both, as well. Your things are being moved even as we speak.” Gwen smirked. “Henry’s room is across the hall from this one, Effie’s room will be on one side of Henry’s and Poppy’s on the other.”

“We are surrounding the poor man,” Effie murmured.

“For his own good,” Gwen pointed out. “The greatest potential for scandalous behavior is under cover of night. Therefore, we shall have to make certain he stays in his room and does not have any unexpected guests.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Effie’s brow arched. “Stand guard outside his room?”

“Excellent idea.” Gwen beamed. “I was thinking the very same thing myself. We will take turns and watch his room all night.”

“Although I think it would be best if we sat rather than stood,” Poppy said thoughtfully.

Effie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Whether we sit or stand, how are we going to explain ourselves?”

Gwen dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “Oh, we’ll think of something. Daytime is a different problem entirely, although Henry does not strike me as the type of man who could be easily seduced during the daylight hours.”

“Pity,” Poppy murmured.

“Even so, Katherine is a powerful temptation,” Effie said. “And she did manage to get him to propose.”

“No man is truly safe when it comes to a beautiful woman.” Gwen thought for a moment. “However, Katherine is the bride and therefore should be the center of attention this week. The center of our attention. As we are now the ones putting all the arrangements together, it makes perfect sense that one of us will be with her every minute.”

Effie stared. “Sometimes I find you positively frightening, Guinevere Blodgett.”

“Thank you.” Gwen tried and failed to keep a grin off her face.

“Still...” Poppy’s forehead furrowed. “That’s only half of it. While we do seem to have an acceptable plan to keep Katherine from ensuring that Henry has to marry her, we still have no way to stop the wedding from happening at all.”

“It’s obvious that Henry Saunders is not the type of man to go back on his word. He has said he would marry her and marry her he will.” Effie shook her head. “In spite of Katherine’s fears—as much as he might want to—I suspect he’ll never break it off with her.”

Gwen sighed. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“It has always struck me as much more civilized and, well, proper when the bride is the one to call off a wedding. One does tend to think a bride has legitimate reasons, whereas when a groom begs off, it’s attributed to cowardice. Or something of a sordid nature. It’s a pity we can’t get her to break it off with him,” Poppy said with a sigh.

Gwen and Effie traded glances.

Effie grinned. “That’s rather brilliant, Poppy.”

“It is?” Poppy’s eyes widened.

“Oh, it is indeed. Henry may be too honorable to beg off from this wedding, but Katherine has no such scruples. She’ll abandon him in a moment under the right conditions.” Gwen smiled slowly. “And I know exactly what those conditions will be.”

CHAPTER FIVE

HENRY SAUNDERS HAD never considered himself irrational, weak or stupid. Apparently he was wrong.

The moment he spotted Celia descending the terrace steps into the gardens, he should have turned around, walked back into the house and as far away as possible. Instead, he found himself hurrying after her, ignoring the voice in his head that fairly screamed he shouldn’t follow her. That insisted this was a dreadful mistake. That no good could come of being alone with Celia Bromley. He’d heeded that voice for the three weeks since her arrival at his family’s country home—three endless, torturous weeks of indecision and doubt and longing. Now he ignored it. A man could only take so much.

He crossed the terrace and started down the stairs. Perhaps if they spent a few minutes together he could get her out of his head. That she was here at Danby in the first place was absurd, really, when one thought about it. They’d shared no more than a chance encounter at a bookstore. Nothing more than a moment in which two people reached for the same volume and their hands brushed, followed by a bit of amusing conversation. Admittedly, that conversation had lasted much of the afternoon, but it was a casual flirtation, nothing more significant than that. Or at least it shouldn’t have been. But in that second when his hand had touched hers, her gaze had met his, there had been an instant of perfect clarity, of shocking awareness. It was absurd of course. Henry didn’t believe in such foolish romantic nonsense.

And yet his blood raced in her presence. His heart thudded hard in his chest when her gaze met his. And something inside of him ached with an odd emptiness when he thought of what he had missed. Perhaps if he could just talk to her alone, he might break the spell he’d been under since they first met.

Or he’d be doomed forever. Still, it was a chance worth taking. It was damned difficult to remember he was expected to marry one sister with another constantly in his thoughts.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and considered his choices. Celia was nowhere to be seen. In front of him, centered between the two curved stairways that flanked the terrace and led into the garden, was a large circular pool. Frolicking water nymphs and dolphins carved of stone spouted water in the middle. The fountain and pool had been designed by an ancestor a hundred or so years ago, and while Henry was not at all drawn to whimsy, he had loved this spot in the garden all of his life. It was nothing short of magical.

The pool was bounded by a semicircular beech hedge with arched openings leading into the gardens beyond. The one farthest from the house led to the tennis courts and he was fairly certain she would not have gone in that direction. The rose garden and formal plantings, designed at the beginning of the century to reflect a continental style, could be reached through the archway on the right. The arch on the left was the entry to a world of extravagant topiaries, fanciful silhouettes, unexpected figures and fantastic forms all carved and shaped out of living trees. This was the oldest garden on the grounds, originally planted nearly two hundred years ago. He and Ned had played here as boys and, regardless of how fashion and taste might change with the years, they had promised the topiary garden would always be a part of Danby Manor.

He had no idea which archway Celia had selected but perhaps her choice might be taken as a sign. If she chose the formal gardens, then obviously they were not meant to be and he could renew his efforts to vanquish her from his thoughts. If she picked the topiaries, well, he’d cross that road if and when he came to it.

He strode toward the left-hand arch, stepped under the wide shaped branches and into the topiary garden. As he had since childhood, he paused and for a moment was a Lilliputian staring up at giant Gullivers.

“Are you following me?” an amused voice off to one side asked. His heart leaped.

“No, of course not.” He kept his gaze on the carved giants in front of him. He didn’t need to turn to know Celia was sitting on one of the stone benches that flanked either side of the archway.

“Really? I could have sworn you were.” A teasing note sounded in her voice.

“And if I admitted I was?” His tone matched hers but there was an undercurrent of truth he couldn’t quite hide.

“Oh.” She paused. “I see.”

Something inside him snapped and he turned toward her. “Do you?”

Her eyes widened and she rose to her feet. “No, not really. Not at all.”

He stepped toward her. “Celia—”

“No.” She held out her hand to stop him. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

The look in her eyes clutched at his heart. “Are you afraid of me?”

Her brows drew together. “Why on earth would I be afraid of you?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just thought...the way you looked at me... It seemed... I don’t know.”

She stared at him for a moment then laughed. “Good Lord, Henry, I would never be afraid of you.”

“Good.” He nodded. This woman made no sense whatsoever. It was...delightful. “Although you did look rather afraid.”

“Well, I am.”

He frowned. “You’re very confusing.”

“Do you think so?” She considered his words. “Most people don’t think I’m the least bit confusing. I rather like that you think I am.” Her blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he said wryly.

“Oh, I’m not at all happy. I’m really quite distraught. And I am afraid, but not of you.” She drew a deep breath. “Of us.”

His blood pounded in his ears. “Us?”

“It’s no doubt quite impertinent of me and most presumptuous. Why, you might not feel at all the same, but—”

“I do.”

She stared. “You do what?”

“Feel the same.”

“Do you?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Oh dear.” She twisted her hands together. “That is awkward. Delightful,” she added then grimaced. “But awkward.”

“Because I am to marry your sister?”

“Of course. I can’t think of any other reason why it would be awkward. Unless you were supposed to marry someone other than my sister, then I suppose that would be awkward, as well.”

He grinned in spite of himself. “Yes, well, I imagine that would be.”

“You’re not, though, are you?” Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have another fiancée, do you? In addition to Katherine, I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” He laughed. “But you’re right. An additional fiancée would be awkward.” He sobered. “Tell me why you’re afraid of us.”

She studied him for a long moment, absently chewing on her lower lip. The most insane desire to taste that lip rushed though him. He ignored it.

“I barely know you, Henry, yet it doesn’t seem to matter.” Her gaze wandered past him, as if she was working something out in her own mind. Looking for an answer that was not easily seen. “Since the moment I met you at the bookseller’s, I have thought of you constantly. I even went back several times in hopes of seeing you.”

He resisted the urge to grin with satisfaction.

Her gaze shifted back to his. “You can imagine my shock when I met you again only to discover you were the man my sister intended to marry.”

“I can indeed. Believe me, you were not alone in your surprise.”

“There is nothing that can be done about it.” She shook her head. “You are an honorable man. I am certain of it. I know we’ve barely spoken but I admit I have observed you during my stay here.”

“Yet we’ve not had so much as a moment alone together.”

“I am well aware of that.” She raised her chin. “Quite honestly I have been avoiding you. And I suspect you’ve been avoiding me, as well.”

He shrugged. “It seemed best.”

“And yet now, here—” she waved absently at their surroundings “—you sought me out.”

“I couldn’t bear it anymore, Celia.” His gaze caught hers directly. “To have you so close and yet...”

“So far away?”

“And out of reach.” He blew a frustrated breath. “I don’t know what to do. I have never had feelings like this and yet the circumstances...” He shook his head. “I thought perhaps if we talked, then whatever this is between would be laid to rest.”

“Because we shared no more than an afternoon. And what seemed extraordinary and magical in hindsight would vanish in the here and now. And we could both put it behind us and go on with our lives.”

“I fear it hasn’t worked.” He cast her a wry smile.

“These brief moments have only served to make me want more. Another hour, another afternoon, a day, a week...forever.”

“My dear Henry.” She smiled and the sadness in her eyes twisted his heart. “We have made a dreadful mess of this.”

“I have,” he said staunchly. “I should have tried harder to find you. I should never have given up. I allowed myself to be sensible and rational and to decide those few hours with a lovely woman in a bookstore were nothing of true significance. I should have known better. My heart should have known better.”

“Hearts are notoriously incompetent when it comes to good judgment. Pity we must live with the consequences.” Her voice softened. “You’re a good man, Henry. The kind of man who honors his obligations. I don’t think I would feel about you the way I do if you weren’t. I don’t think I could.”

There was nothing he could say. She was right. His word was his bond.

Her gaze meshed with his. “I have never in my life wanted to throw myself into a man’s arms and yet with you, I can barely keep myself from doing so. However...”

“However.” His gaze searched hers. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“I never have but that was before I met you.”

“I do. I always have.” She paused, obviously to consider her words. Henry feared they would not be what he longed to hear. “It seems to me if fate truly meant for you and I to be together, we would have met again before...” She shook her head. “As it is, I fear fate sadly intended us to be star-crossed, as it were. Nothing more than friends perhaps.”

“I’m not sure I can be your friend.” His gaze bored into hers and he knew the regret in her eyes mirrored his own.

“Then we can have nothing at all.” She looked as if she were about to say something else and instead nodded. “I’m not sure this has been of any benefit to either of us.” She smiled. “But it was nice to speak with you again. It’s probably wise for us to continue to avoid encounters like this. Good day, Henry.” She started off.

“Wait.” He had to stop her even if he had no legitimate reason for doing so. But it did seem that she had just said goodbye and he wasn’t sure he could bear that.

She turned back toward him. “Yes?”

He said the first thing that popped into his head. “I know there can never be anything between us and I accept that. But you will dance with me, won’t you? At the ball?” Perhaps if he could hold her in his arms, just once, he could let her go forever.

“I don’t think—”

“One dance, Celia, nothing more than that. And then we will go our separate ways as if nothing had ever happened between us. Grant me that much.”

She studied him for an endless, silent moment then favored him with a polite, impersonal smile. His stomach plunged. “Of course, Henry, it would be quite rude to refuse you a dance. You are marrying my sister, after all.” She nodded and took her leave.

He stared after her for a long moment and accepted the truth.

This was the woman he should be marrying. This was the woman who had claimed his heart. And for the rest of his days, this was the woman who would own it.

Even if it was broken.

CHAPTER SIX

CELIA STEPPED THROUGH the verdant archway and started toward the house trying to maintain a sedate pace even though everything inside her urged her to run. To flee as fast as she could. She kept her chin tucked, her gaze on the ground in front of her and her fists clenched in an effort to keep from crying. How utterly ridiculous. Tears never helped anyone.

This wasn’t the least bit fair but then Celia had realized long ago that life wasn’t particularly fair. It wasn’t fair that her mother had died. That her father was an idiot. That her sisters did not treat her as one should treat a sister. And most unfair of all—that her oldest sister was marrying the man Celia loved.

And there was nothing to be done about it. Regardless of whatever plan Aunt Guinevere and her companions devised, Katherine would never let Henry go. And Henry would never go back on his word.

“I say, Celia, are you all right?”

Celia jerked her head up and stopped short, nearly colliding with the earl. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I didn’t see you.”

“No, you are most definitely preoccupied.” He studied her curiously. His eyes were the same dark brown as Henry’s and it was obvious they were brothers but no one would have ever suspected they were twins. “Is something wrong?”

Yes, everything is wrong! “Nothing of significance.” She forced a pleasant smile. “My mind was elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“Someplace more interesting than this, I would hope.”

“Not at all,” she said firmly. “I think Danby is most interesting. And the history of the manor is fascinating.”

His brow rose. “You enjoy history, do you?”

“I always have. Particularly in a place like this.” She glanced around. “You can feel history all around you here, like a living, breathing thing. The mark of those who have come before is evident everywhere you look.”

He leaned closer and lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “Have you met the ghosts, then?”

Delight widened her eyes. “You have ghosts?”

“I can’t imagine any self-respecting estate anywhere in England that doesn’t have at least one. But alas—” he heaved an overly dramatic sigh “—in spite of all sorts of stories passed down through the years and my best efforts, starting in my youth, I have yet to meet one.”

“That is a shame.”

“Indeed.” He shook his head mournfully then brightened. “I know, Celia, you and I could hunt for ghosts. Perhaps tonight?” He smiled in a wicked manner. “After dark?”

She stared. “Are you flirting with me, Edward?”

“I am trying.”

“And I am flattered.” She returned his smile. “But I’m not sure hunting ghosts with you in the dark is a good idea.”

“And I thought it was an excellent idea.” He wagged his brows in a wicked manner.

She laughed.

He grinned. “So you like my family’s ancestral home, then?”

“I can’t imagine anyone not liking it. The manor itself is magnificent, and on a beautiful day like today, the gardens are irresistible. Your gardeners are to be commended.”

“Actually, this is largely to my brother’s credit.” He glanced around, pride shining in his eyes. “When I was paying no particular attention to my responsibilities, Henry was. He is the one who made certain this estate, and everything else, was attended to as it should be.” He paused. “Henry is a good man. Perhaps the best I know.”

“My sister is a fortunate woman.” Without warning, tears welled in her eyes and she blinked rapidly.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Concern sounded in his voice.

“Quite, thank you.” She waved her hand in front of her eyes, wishing she’d remembered her fan, but she hadn’t planned to come outside at all. She had indeed been lured out-of-doors by the beauty of the landscape. “A bit of dust in my eye. It will be fine in a moment.”

“I was looking for Henry but perhaps I should escort you back to the house instead.”

“That’s most kind of you, my lord, but not at all necessary. I encountered your brother in the topiary garden a few minutes ago. I suspect he’s still there.”

“If you’re certain.” His gaze strayed to the entry to the garden. “There was something I wished to speak to him about.”

“Then I would feel quite badly if you abandoned your purpose simply because there is a speck of dust in my eye. Or rather, there was.” She cast him her brightest smile. “I told you it would be fine and it is.” She waved toward the garden. “Now do go and find your brother. I have all sorts of things I need to attend to, so I shall be on my way.”

“Very well, Celia.” He smiled. “I will see you at dinner, then?”

“I would never miss dinner.” She grinned. “Your cook is very nearly as remarkable as your gardens.”

“She will take that as a great compliment.” He laughed. “Good day, Celia.”

“Good day, my lord.” She turned and started back toward the manor. Edward was a charming man, most amusing and quite dashing. But he wasn’t Henry.

Celia never would have thought it was possible to love someone with no more between them than an afternoon’s conversation and a slight brush of the hand. It was far-fetched and absurd and completely ridiculous. And yet, she’d never been so certain of anything in her life.

Was it at all possible that Aunt Guinevere and her friends could truly come up with a way to stop this wedding? If anyone could save Henry, surely it would be those three.

Realization struck her like a physical blow and stopped her in midstep.

If Henry was worth having, he was certainly worth fighting for. Celia hadn’t wanted to be involved in whatever scheme her aunt concocted—out of misplaced family loyalty, no doubt. But that was no way to save the man one loved.

Resolve washed through her. She would speak to Aunt Guinevere at once.

Perhaps Celia and Henry were indeed star-crossed. Perhaps they weren’t meant to be together but he deserved better than to spend the rest of his days with Katherine. And as the woman who loved him, it was up to Celia to do all she could to make certain of it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

HOW WAS HE going to extricate himself from this mess?

Henry sat on the stone bench, elbows on his knees, chin propped in his hands and stared at the topiaries carved to replicate the figures in the fountain, stylized nymphs and dolphins, caught forever in a carefree romp. No worries, no problems, nothing to mar their leafy exuberance. He quite envied them even if it was pointless. They were trees, after all.

Try as he might he could not think of a way to escape marrying Katherine. It was not as if she had deceived him in any way, although it was painfully clear to him now that his appeal for her lay only in his fortune and family name.

And then there was the problem of Celia. How could he spend the rest of his life with Katherine when Celia was the woman he loved? Regardless, there was nothing to be done about it. He would dance with her once and that would be that. A voice in the back of his head noted the lie. He ignored it.

“There you are.” Ned strode into the garden. “I was looking for you.”

“Were you?” Henry said absently.

“I met Miss Bromley, Celia, on the way here.” Ned settled on the bench beside him. “Lovely woman.”

“Yes, she is.” It was oddly fortunate that Katherine was not fond of her youngest sister.

“Clever, too.”

“She does seem clever, yes.” Why, after their marriage he and Katherine would probably rarely see Celia at all.

“I’ve quite grown to like her in these past weeks.”

“There’s nothing not to like.” Yes, that would be best for all concerned, really. Besides, he and Katherine would live most of the time in London and Celia would be at Bromwick Abbey.

“No.” Ned chuckled. “Not one little thing, at least so far as I can tell. She’s intelligent, and not afraid to show it. It’s unusual and I like that. She’s witty and amusing, and really quite pretty.” He paused. “Although, Katherine is the true beauty of the family.”

“Katherine is beautiful.” Henry nodded. He would have one dance with Celia and that would be the end of it.

“But Celia, well, there’s something about Celia,” Ned mused. “That fair hair and those blue eyes. A fetching figure on her, as well. I find her very nearly irresistible.”

What an idiot he was. One dance would never be enough.

“I believe I shall have to do something about that. I’ve only hesitated thus far because I wasn’t sure what the rules were about pursuing the sister of one’s future sister-in-law. Although I’ve never been fond of rules.” Ned paused. “The ball will be the perfect setting to begin my efforts. Yes, indeed, a beautiful summer night with romance in the air. I always look especially dashing in formal attire. It will be perfect.” He chuckled. “We’ll share a dance or two. She will have my undivided attention—no woman can resist that. I’ll murmur a few compliments in her ear. Something about how she looks like a goddess descended to earth to enchant unsuspecting mortals. Women adore that sort of thing. I’ll suggest a turn on the terrace and perhaps a walk in the gardens, under the moon or the stars, whichever is appropriate. And then, when she is very nearly swooning with the romance of it all, I’ll take her in my arms and—”

“What?” Henry’s attention jerked to his brother. “What are you talking about?”

“I knew you were off somewhere.” Ned smirked. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

“No, I have other things on my mind.” Henry narrowed his eyes. “You were talking about seducing some...” He sucked in a hard breath. “You were talking about seducing Celia!”

“I was not.” Ned scoffed. “I was talking about charming and enchanting her.” He grinned. “Seduction would come later.”

“Absolutely not!” Henry glared. “I won’t have it. I don’t want you going near her.”

“I don’t see why not.” Ned shrugged. “She’s not a child. She’s certainly available. And she is quite, oh, what is the word? Delicious? Oh, yes, that’s good.”

Henry gasped.

“Delectable, really.” Ned cast his brother a wicked grin. “A truly tasty morsel and I do believe—”

“That’s enough, Ned. I will not have you leering over Celia in that manner. You will leave her alone. Do you understand?”

“Why should I?”

“Because...”

“If you don’t have a better reason than that—”

“Because...”

“Because she deserves better than me?”

“Yes!”

“Because she deserves someone who will love and cherish her?”

“Yes!”

“Because you already love her?”

“I...”

“Come now, Henry, I have been in love often enough to know the signs.”

“Yes!” Henry huffed. “Yes, Ned, damn it all, I love her.”

“Ah-ha!” Ned jumped to his feet and aimed an accusing finger at his brother. “I knew it. I’ve known it from the beginning. That first night, when we met the rest of Katherine’s family, I knew you had met Celia before.”

Henry sighed. “We met at a bookstore. Only once but...”

“But it was enough?”

“Yes.” Henry shook his head. “I haven’t been able to think of anything but her since then.”

“This was before you met Katherine?” Ned sat back down on the bench.

“Yes, but—” he struggled to find the right words “—I didn’t have her name. I went back in hopes of seeing her again but I didn’t. So I decided it was foolish to continue to pine over a woman I spent no more than a few hours with. And then I met Katherine and you know the rest.”

“I’ve been watching the two of you—you and Celia, that is. There’s a tense sort of longing between you when you look at each other. I can’t believe no one else has noticed, although you have both been discreet, I’ll give you that.”

“We have been more than discreet—we’ve avoided each other.” He paused. “Until today.”

“You mean just now?” Caution sounded in Ned’s voice. “What happened?”

“I thought if I could talk to her, perhaps...” Henry ran his hand through his hair.

“Perhaps it would be enough?”

Henry nodded.

“But it wasn’t?”

“No, and it doesn’t matter. I am to marry Katherine and there’s nothing to be done about it.” Henry blew a long breath. “The worst part about all of this is that I don’t especially like Katherine.”

“That’s the worst part?”

“Well, yes. If I liked her, I could imagine the rest of our lives together. And it would be easier to put Celia out of my head.”

“I doubt that.”

“Oh, I was infatuated with Katherine in the beginning but the more I’m with her, the more I know her—”

“Exactly.” Ned shuddered. “She’s rather frightening.”

“Isn’t she, though?” Henry heaved a resigned sigh. “First I meet the woman who may well be the love of my life and I lose her—or rather I can’t find her again. Then I fancy myself in love with a beautiful creature who now appears to want me more for my fortune than anything else.” He glanced at his brother. “I don’t think Katherine is all that fond of me, either.”

“I don’t think she’s fond of anyone.”

“I’ve been something of an idiot, haven’t I?”

“In the scheme of things, it’s probably your turn.” Ned grinned then sobered. “You’ll have to call off your wedding, you know.”

“I can’t.” Resignation swept through him. “I gave my word.”

“You will be a cad but that’s far better than marrying the wrong woman.”

“No, it’s not.” He distinctly remembered Father telling him that doing what was easy didn’t make a man but rather it was doing what was right, no matter how difficult it might be. Owning up to one’s mistakes was what gave a man strength and fortitude and character. And made a father proud. “I can’t go back on my word. It would be wrong and I could never forgive myself.”

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the only sounds the tinkling of water from the annoyingly joyous nymphs and dolphins on the other side of the hedge.

“It’s hard to be the good brother, isn’t it?” Ned said with a wry smile.

Henry scoffed. “You have no idea.”

“Never fear, old man.” Ned patted his brother’s back. “I’ll come up with something.”

“Will you?” It was an interesting thought but Henry doubted even Ned—who had vast experience in extricating himself from all kinds of awkward situations through the years—could save him from this.

“Of course I will. I don’t have any ideas yet, but there are still four days until the wedding. Plenty of time.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“Come now, Henry. I’ll think of something. I always do. Besides—” Ned grinned “—what’s the good of being the earl if you can’t save your twin brother from ruining his life?”

Day Three

CHAPTER EIGHT

“THANK YOU FOR joining me, Mrs. Blodgett.” The Earl of Danby shifted in his chair, obviously a bit ill at ease. Gwen suspected his discomfort had nothing to do with the chair.

“Well, when an earl, and one’s host, invites you to join him privately in his library for tea, one does not turn down the invitation as it obviously means one of two things.” Gwen smiled pleasantly.

“Oh?”

“Either he has a matter of importance to discuss or he is interested in something of a more personal nature, in which case he should be set straight immediately.” She paused. “As I am old enough to be your mother, I am assuming the former.”

“Regardless of age, you are an extremely attractive woman, Mrs. Blodgett.”

“I am an extremely married woman, my lord.”

“And I would never...” He grinned. “Well, I would and I have but I won’t.”

She laughed. “Imagine my relief, my lord.”

“Edward, please.”

“Guinevere, or my friends call me Gwen if you prefer.”

“Gwen it is, then.” He considered her for a moment. “I shall be blunt. I think this marriage between my brother and Katherine Bromley is a dreadful mistake.”

“Do you?” She calmly sipped her tea.

“Don’t you?”

Gwen chose her words with care. “I fear the reasons Katherine wishes to marry Henry are more of a mercenary nature than anything having to do with true affection.”

“You see it, too, then.”

“It’s painfully obvious to me.”

He nodded. “For that reason alone I would want to stop this wedding.” He thought for a moment. “You must understand, for all that Henry seems the more sensible and intelligent of the two of us, he is not as—Oh, what’s the word? Wise, I suppose, as I am when it comes to the more unscrupulous tendencies of the fairer sex. I have been pursued by women seeking my title and fortune from the time I was old enough to be considered of marriageable age.” He grinned. “It has not been entirely unpleasant.”

“No, I would imagine it hasn’t.” Gwen bit back a grin. The man was incorrigible.

“But I am far more intelligent than most people assume. I am not one to be swept off my feet by a pretty face more interested in what I am and what I have than who I am. But that comes from experience and I will admit it was a difficult lesson to learn.” He grimaced. “My brother’s experiences with women have been entirely different than my own and he is far more trusting than I am. When it comes to this particular area, Henry is, or rather was, a bit naive.”

“Was?”

“He, too, has now learned his lesson.” Edward blew a resigned breath.

“He doesn’t have to go through with the wedding.” Gwen shrugged. “He can beg off. Certainly, it will create a bit of scandal but surely that’s better than being trapped in a marriage he doesn’t want.”

“My thoughts exactly.” The earl nodded. “However, my brother is a better man than I am. His sense of honor will not permit him to go back on his word. I have no such scruples.” He leaned forward. “I am hoping you will help me find a way to get him out of this, to stop this wedding and save my brother from a lifetime of misery.”

“That’s quite a request, Edward,” she said mildly, resisting the urge to crow with delight. With the earl’s assistance, their plan would be far more likely to succeed. Still... “You said ‘for that alone’ a minute ago—am I to gather there are reasons aside from Katherine’s less-than-noble motives why you wish to stop this wedding?”

He chuckled. “You are a clever creature, Gwen.”

She grinned. “Thank you, Edward.”

“My brother is in love with your niece.”

“Excellent, as my niece is in love with your brother.”

“Any idiot can see it. I can’t believe no one else has noticed. I’ve watched the two of them try not to look at each other since Celia and her family arrived at the manor. It’s best, really, because when they do...” He smiled in an oddly wistful way. If one could feel sorry for a handsome, dashing man with power and position and wealth, one would feel sorry given that smile alone. “Well, I have to admit I am extremely envious. I hope someone will look at me that way someday.”

“I think the rest of the family is too busy counting their chickens, as it were, to see what’s right under their noses. But I noticed, as did my friends.”

“Speaking of your friends...” He frowned. “Are your rooms to your liking? My butler said you and the other ladies requested different rooms and I understand Mrs. Higginbotham sat reading in the hall outside her room all night. She told a footman that she heard rats in the walls. He offered to find her a different room but she refused.”

Gwen hesitated. If they were going to join forces, she should probably be honest with the man. “The rats may not be in the wall, Edward. I believe Katherine may wish to guarantee the wedding proceeds as planned by means of a, oh, scandalous nature.”

“A scandalous nature?” Edward frowned in confusion. “I don’t—” Understanding dawned on his face. “My brother’s room is next to Mrs. Higginbotham’s new room.”

“And next to Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s and directly across the hall from mine.” Gwen cast him a satisfied smile.

The earl stared for a long moment. “You are somewhat devious as well as clever, aren’t you?”

“I do try, Edward.”

“I think I’m very lucky you’re married.” Admiration sounded in his voice.

She laughed.

“I can’t have you and your friends guarding Henry’s room all night.” Edward’s brow furrowed. “I could change rooms with my brother.”

“Then you might be the one trapped into marriage.”

“I assure you, better women than Katherine have tried.” He shook his head. “However, whereas scandal has never especially bothered me, I must admit I do find myself more and more inclined to avoid it. Upholding the family name and all. Regardless, I cannot permit you and the other ladies to continue to lose sleep. I shall post a footman at Henry’s door beginning tonight.”

“Oh, and that wouldn’t cause gossip among the servants, would it?” Gwen shook her head. “Far better for them to think that the earl’s guests are a bit odd rather than to so much as suspect the truth. Besides, Mrs. Higginbotham wasn’t there all night. I took a few hours, as did Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore.” She leaned toward him in a confidential manner. “I believe Poppy considers it something of an adventure in pursuit of a worthy cause. I am not inclined to spoil her fun.”

“Very well, then, if you insist. I shall do my part by maintaining a close watch on my brother during the day.” He considered her cautiously. “Aside from keeping Henry out of a situation where he would have no hope at all, I don’t suppose you have any other ideas.”

“One or two, perhaps.”

“I hoped you would.” He grinned. “Please, go on.”

“Well, it seems to me Henry’s sense of honor will never allow him to be the one to beg off from this wedding.”

Edward nodded. “We’ve established that.”

“So Katherine must be the one to call it off.”

Edward snorted. “She’d never do that.”

“Come now, Edward.” Gwen took a serene sip of tea. “Why does Katherine wish to marry Henry in the first place?”

“Social position,” he said promptly. “And his money.”

“Which of the two do you think is more important to her?”

He scoffed. “Money of course.”

“And if she were somehow to become convinced he doesn’t have any?”

“She’d...” He stared at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Remind me never to cross you, Mrs. Blodgett.”

“Goodness, my lord.” Gwen smiled in her most wicked manner. “Wouldn’t that be fun.”

CHAPTER NINE

“I DON’T KNOW why we have to continue to bother with this.” Katherine glowered at the others reflected in the mirror. She stood on an ottoman in the center of a ladies’ parlor that had been given over for their use—although it hadn’t been given so much as it was overtaken. Celia’s family had swept into Danby Manor like an invading army. “I think the dress is quite perfect.”

Katherine’s gaze returned to her reflection and the dress she would wear to marry Henry. It was a beautiful ivory color with tiers of lace-edged satin cascading down the skirt and delicate lace dripping from the sleeves. It was indeed perfect. Aunt Frances was determined to see her oldest niece wed and wed properly. She had managed to find a seamstress in London who could create something exquisite in a matter of days, as no less than exquisite would do for Katherine. It had struck Celia as something of a miracle, but then Louise had confided to Celia that the gown had originally been made for another bride who no longer needed it, which did explain how Aunt Frances had been able to procure a dress of such excellent quality and fine detail so quickly. It was apparently something of a bargain, as well. Still, it was far nicer than anything any of them had ever had.

Katherine knew nothing of this and was vain enough not to realize there was a reason why the fit needed adjusting. Aunt Frances had been fussing with it ever since they arrived at Danby and had quite happily turned the entire matter over to Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and Mrs. Higginbotham, who were both quite skilled with a needle. Which worked out rather well as Aunt Guinevere had told Celia that Katherine was not to be out of sight for so much as a moment. She hadn’t explained why but it was apparently part of the ladies’ plan to rescue Henry. In spite of Celia’s newfound resolve to assist in whatever they had in mind, Aunt Guinevere had said that, on further consideration, it might be best if Celia didn’t know the details of their plan. When they had one, she’d added, which was not at all encouraging.

Katherine smiled smugly. “And I look quite perfect in it.”

Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and Mrs. Higginbotham exchanged glances but then they were not as used to Katherine as Celia, Louise and Aunt Frances were. Aunt Frances studied her niece with a worried expression while Louise lounged in a chaise paging through a lady’s magazine.

“Perhaps,” Aunt Frances said. “But I’m not entirely certain.”

“I think it still needs work,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said firmly. She knelt on the floor adjusting the hem of the dress. “The fit and the length are not yet right.”

“I think the fit is just fine.” Katherine huffed.

“You do look wonderful, Katherine,” Celia said helpfully.

“No one asked for your opinion, nor does anyone want it,” Katherine snapped. “And I’m tired of standing here.”

“You do want to look your best, Katherine,” Aunt Frances said. “One must make sacrifices.”

“Indeed one must.” Mrs. Higginbotham fiddled with the waist of the dress. “Why, I can see where it needs just a bit more taking in. You have such a lovely figure, it would be a shame not to show it off to best advantage.”

Katherine preened.

“Yes, I see a problem right here.” Mrs. Higginbotham pinched a bit of the fabric on the seam joining the skirt and the bodice.

“Ouch.” Katherine glared. “You pinched me!”

Louise coughed back a laugh. One thing Celia could say about Louise was that while she had never particularly liked Celia, she didn’t seem overly fond of Katherine, either.

Mrs. Higginbotham ignored her. “Hand me a pin, Poppy.”

“Now you’re going to stick me!” Katherine cried.

“Not unless you move,” Mrs. Higginbotham muttered. “I cannot be responsible if you move.”

“Well, it’s hard to stand here and not move when you insist on poking me and tugging me and—Ouch!” Katherine glared at Mrs. Higginbotham. “You did that on purpose!”

“I told you not to move.” Mrs. Higginbotham glared back but the tiniest gleam of satisfaction shone in her eyes. Celia would have wagered she did indeed stab Katherine deliberately.

“Now, now, Katherine,” Aunt Frances said in a consoling manner. “I’m certain it was nothing more than an accident. Why, Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore have been most generous with their time and skill and we are extremely grateful.”

Katherine shrugged.

“I would imagine the sister-in-law of an earl would be gracious, as well,” Louise said under her breath and turned a page of her magazine.

One could almost see Katherine transform at her sister’s comment. For a moment, she was every bit as beautiful as she thought she was. She cast Mrs. Higginbotham her most charming, and well-rehearsed, smile. “My apologies, Mrs. Higginbotham, and to you as well, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore. I am terribly sorry for my behavior. I fear I grow a little on edge as the wedding approaches.” She heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “It’s all so overwhelming, being the bride and the center of attention.”

“Understandable, dear,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said in a brisk manner. “One is always a bit apprehensive when one is about to plight one’s troth with the man of one’s dreams.”

Katherine cast her a quizzical look.

“Mr. Saunders?” Mrs. Higginbotham said pointedly.

“Henry,” Celia prompted.

Katherine shot her a hard look. “Yes, I know. Dear, dear Henry.”

“There are few things more nerve-racking than to be about to shackle one’s life to a man’s for the rest of one’s days. It’s such an enormous, irrevocable step,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “After all, marriage is forever.”

Katherine smiled weakly.

“There are few things I like better than seeing two people in love vow to be together until death. It’s so terribly romantic.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore released a heartfelt sigh. “They say one can’t live on love alone but I’m certain you’ll manage.” She slanted a sly look at Mrs. Higginbotham.

“Yes, indeed.” Mrs. Higginbotham nodded. “There is nothing more admirable than two people who cast aside all thoughts of practicality, especially when it comes to finances, and marry for nothing more than affection.”

“Well, yes, but Henry does have a substantial fortune,” Katherine said smugly. “And he is his brother’s heir.”

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Higginbotham shrugged. “I had simply heard that Mr. Saunders—”

“Effie!” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore snapped. “That’s nothing more than gossip and I thought we agreed it would be best to keep it to ourselves.”

“What kind of gossip?” Katherine’s brow furrowed.

“Nothing to worry yourself about,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said in an offhand manner. “I doubt that any of it is true.” She paused. “Probably.”

“Really, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore,” Aunt Frances began, “if you have heard something about Mr. Saunders, I think we should know what it is.”

“Oh, yes, do tell,” Louise said.

What on earth was this about? Celia glanced from one of her aunt’s friends to the other. It was Celia’s understanding—as well as that of her family—that Henry and his brother were both quite well situated financially. It didn’t matter to Celia if Henry had money or not but it would certainly matter a great deal to everyone else.

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Higginbotham said firmly. “Poppy is right. It’s not our place to say anything and who knows if the rumors are true.”

“Besides,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore added, “tittle-tattle about bad investments or massive debt or ill-advised speculation or insolvency really must be taken with a grain of salt.”

Katherine’s eyes widened. “Insolvency?”

“Not everyone is good at managing money.” Mrs. Higginbotham pinched another bit of fabric. Katherine didn’t so much as flinch. “Oh dear, I am sorry. Did I pinch you again?”

Katherine ignored her. “What did you mean about bad investments and massive debt?”

“Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore looked up at her with a pleasant smile. “And you do have a dowry, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Rather meager, really,” Louise murmured, turning another page. “For the sister-in-law of an earl.”

Mrs. Higginbotham frowned. “It’s not significant, then?”

“It’s, oh, modest,” Celia said. “Our grandfather had it set aside for us.”

“I’m certain any financial difficulties Mr. Saunders may be experiencing would be alleviated by the earl,” Aunt Frances said staunchly.

“Ah, yes, the earl.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore exchanged knowing glances with her friend.

Katherine’s gaze shifted from one lady to the other. “What do you mean—‘ah, yes, the earl’?”

“If you don’t stay still, I shall stick you again.” The threat rang in Mrs. Higginbotham’s voice.

“I demand to know what the two of you have heard.” Katherine glared. “I have the right to know. I am marrying into the family, after all.”

“And I refuse to spread idle rumors that probably aren’t true.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore rose to her feet.

“Do you really think so?” Celia asked. If indeed Henry didn’t have a fortune and his brother had financial problems, Katherine might well decide not to marry him. Henry would no doubt be fine without money—he was competent and intelligent and could certainly make his own way in the world—but Edward wouldn’t do at all well. Charming and handsome were not really marketable qualities. Poor man.

“Goodness, dear, there’s always a grain of truth in any rumor but I certainly wouldn’t worry about your sister’s future.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore smiled at Katherine. “She is about to marry the man she loves, after all. Money is insignificant in comparison to that.”

“Still, it is nice...” Katherine said more to herself than the others.

“Nice but not nearly as important as affection,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “Even a substantial fortune will not keep you warm at night.”

Aunt Frances gasped. “Mrs. Higginbotham! I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head.”

“Miss Quince.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s eyes narrowed.

Celia winced. Louise looked up from her magazine. Katherine continued to study herself in the mirror, her brow furrowed in thought.

“If you have concerns about anything I might say,” Mrs. Higginbotham began, “perhaps it would be best if I took my leave and left you to finish the difficult task of attempting to fit a dress obviously made for someone else to your niece’s specific measurements.”

Aunt Frances paled.

“What do you mean—not made for my measurements?” Katherine asked, her frown deepening.

“Nothing, dear,” Aunt Frances said quickly. “The seamstress was...um...um... French, I believe. Which is why there are a few problems with the gown.” She lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “Her grasp of the English language was not as good as one would hope it would be.”

Celia stared. Aunt Frances was far quicker and much more clever than Celia had ever realized. If Aunt Guinevere and her friends were going to stop this wedding, Katherine might not be their biggest obstacle.

“Furthermore,” Mrs. Higginbotham continued, “if your nieces are not aware of the more intimate aspects of marriage—”

“Effie,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore warned.

“—then you have obviously failed in your duties,” Mrs. Higginbotham finished in a lofty manner.

Aunt Frances clasped her hands together. “My nieces know everything it is appropriate for them to know as properly bred young ladies.”

“Then I would say it’s going to be a most interesting wedding night,” Mrs. Higginbotham said under her breath.

Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore groaned. Louise snorted back a laugh.

“Mrs. Higginbotham!” Aunt Frances snapped.

“Yes, Miss Quince?” Mrs. Higginbotham asked.

Aunt Frances stared at her then drew in a deep breath. “While your candid manner of speech is not entirely my preference, your sewing skills are exceptional. This gown is far beyond my own meager abilities. I would be grateful if you—and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore of course—would continue to work your...magic to make Katherine’s dress as perfect as it can possibly be.” She summoned a tight smile. It obviously wasn’t easy for her. “Most grateful.”

“Why, I can’t think of anything we’d rather do than to help make Katherine’s wedding everything she’s ever wanted.” Mrs. Higginbotham smiled in an overly pleasant manner. “And all that she deserves.”

Day Four

CHAPTER TEN

“YOU WANT ME to do what?” Gwen stared at the earl.

Edward chuckled. “You needn’t look at me as if I’ve lost my mind.”

“You’re asking me to hide in a cupboard.” What was the man thinking? “Rational people do not usually ask others to hide in a cupboard. Besides, I am already dressed for the ball—”

“And might I say you look lovely tonight.”

She ignored him. “Guests will soon be arriving and I still have a few things to take care of. Miss Quince has decided her participation is no longer necessary, so everything has fallen to me and my dear friends, who may never forgive me. Organizing balls and weddings in a grand house with a staff of dozens is not something we do routinely, you know. It has been an exceptionally long and busy day. Myriad details still need to be attended to and I don’t have time for nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense and I’m not asking you to hide in a cupboard,” Edward said patiently. “You’re absolutely right, that would be mad.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Then what are you asking?”

“I have not explained this well.” Edward strode across the library to the door concealed in the paneling he had indicated a moment ago. He pulled it open with a flourish. “As you can see, it’s not a cupboard. This is my private office and it is substantially bigger than a cupboard.”

She peered around him. It was not as large as the library but was a good-sized room. A door on the far wall probably led to the hall or another room.

“Very well, it’s not a cupboard.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you’re right, you have not explained this at all well.”

“My apologies.” He grinned. “It’s not often I participate in subterfuge and clandestine endeavors. I find it rather exciting.” He grimaced. “Which means my life has become extraordinarily dull of late.”

“Would you please tell me what you are talking about?” Gwen hadn’t stamped her foot in frustration since her girlhood but it was hard to resist doing so now.

“All I’m suggesting is that you stand in the office, on the other side of the door, which we will leave open a crack, so that you may hear what transpires.”

“What is going to transpire and why do you want me to hear it?”

“Because it’s your brilliant idea.” He beamed.

“Which brilliant idea is that?” The day had been filled with countless minor difficulties. And each and every one did seem to require a solution that was at least clever if not brilliant.

“Why, convincing Katherine that Henry and I are on the brink of destitution so that she will call off the wedding of course.”

“Oh, that brilliant idea.” Gwen couldn’t resist a smug smile. It was rather brilliant at that.

Effie and Poppy had begun what Effie insisted on calling a campaign yesterday by subtly mentioning gossip about Edward and Henry’s financial instability. Today, as they decorated the ballroom, continued to fit Katherine’s wedding dress, discussed the menu for the wedding breakfast with the cook, arranged flowers and dealt with endless tiny details, all three ladies refused to speak further of rumors or gossip or innuendo. That in spite of pleas from Miss Quince and Katherine. Gwen thought it best not to tell Celia the truth about the alleged gossip. For one thing, she wasn’t sure her niece was devious enough to carry on the charade. And for another, if Celia truly loved Henry, his fortune—or lack of it—would make no difference. Or at least it shouldn’t. Far better to find out now if it did.

It was really quite amazing how very much could be said by saying hardly anything at all. And Gwen, Effie and Poppy’s efforts were beginning to bear fruit. Miss Quince had a decidedly pinched look of worry about her and Katherine seemed at once preoccupied, concerned and annoyed. Which no doubt explained her fouler than usual mood and tendency to bite the head off all who came near her. Of course, Gwen and her friends were becoming a bit testy themselves. Spending part of every night in a chair in a corridor apparently did that to a person.

“And I am about to do my part. As I do think it will be a riveting performance—” he ushered her into the office “—I should like an audience of at least one. The play’s the thing, you know, Gwen.”

“I wouldn’t quote Hamlet, Edward. He did not end well.” She stepped over the threshold and into the office. “Do you really think this is necessary?”

“My dear Gwen, it’s not only necessary.” He cast her a wicked grin. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Oh, well, as long as it’s going to be fun.” She bit back a smile.

“You may sound chastising all you wish, but I would wager you are going to enjoy it.”

“I’ll enjoy it more if it works.” She turned toward him. “Do you care to tell me exactly what you are planning?”

“Absolutely not. I think it would be best if you were surprised.” He pulled the door closed, leaving it open no more than a crack. “And impressed.”

She heard him move away from the door and settle in the chair behind his desk that creaked when he sat down. She waited for what was surely an hour but perhaps was less than a minute.

“When do you expect whatever this is to occur?” she called.

“Anytime now,” he said in a normal tone.

She paused. “You’re right. I can hear very well in here.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

He cleared his throat. “You’re not the first person to have hidden there.”

“I see.” And wasn’t that an interesting story? She waited another eternity then called again, “I should warn you, I intend to spread rumors about your finances at the ball tonight.”

“Really? How delightful.”

“Delightful?”

“In the past, rumors about me have been of a far more scandalous nature.” She could hear the grin in his voice. “This will be mild in comparison.”

A knock sounded at the library doors.

“Quiet,” Edward said. “The curtain rises.”

A frisson of excitement skated up Gwen’s spine. Her life was extraordinarily dull, as well.

Gwen heard the door open.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Edward’s butler said. “Miss Bromley is here. She says you requested to speak with her.”

“Indeed I did.” The chair scraped against the floor as he rose to greet his guest. Katherine perhaps? “Please send her in, Jervis.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And when my estate manager arrives, please show him in at once. He has papers I need to sign.”

“Yes, my lord.” Jervis hesitated. “This is entirely inappropriate, sir, but might I say something?”

“You’ve been with this family since my father was alive, Jervis, and I value your opinion. Please go on.”

The butler’s tone took on a confidential tenor but he lowered his voice only slightly. Gwen could hear him quite clearly, as could anyone standing behind him.

“I just wished to ask you if you’re certain you need to take this step. Selling off much of the estate property strikes me as a drastic measure.”

“I have given this a great deal of thought, Jervis.” Edward heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “And it is a drastic step but one that cannot be helped, I’m afraid. Unfortunately, I fear it’s just the beginning. We shall soon have to decide which of the staff we will be letting go but that can wait until after the wedding. These are desperate times.”

Desperate times? Gwen stifled a laugh.

“I understand, sir.” Jervis paused. “Should I show Miss Bromley in?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Jervis.”

Gwen did wish she could see Edward’s face but the angle of the nearly closed door did not permit it. A moment later she heard Katherine enter the room.

“Katherine, my dear, you have outdone yourself. I daresay I have never seen a creature as dazzling as you are tonight. My brother is a lucky man.”

“Thank you, Edward.” Caution sounded in Katherine’s voice. “Your butler said you wished to speak to me on a matter of some importance.”

“Yes, I do. Please sit down.”

The rustle of skirts indicated Katherine settled in one of the chairs positioned before Edward’s desk. Edward resumed his seat. He really should get that chair oiled.

“I should be speaking to your father about this but as you are soon to be a member of the family, I thought it best to discuss this with you directly.”

“Is something amiss?” Katherine asked lightly.

“Oh, no, not really.” Edward paused for a long moment. “I find it distasteful to discuss such matters. I have no wish to cast a shadow over the happiness of this week’s wedding festivities. I’m not sure how to say this.”

“Good Lord, Edward. Simply say what you have to say.” Katherine’s tone was a bit sharper than she had perhaps intended.

“Very well, then.” Edward drew a deep breath. “When Henry said you and he were to be married, in spite of your father’s financial difficulties, we both expected your dowry would be substantial. We understood dowries had been set aside for you and your sisters by your grandfather.”

“It was most thoughtful of him.”

“Indeed it was. Regrettably, the amount of your dowry is far less than we had hoped.”

“It is somewhat modest,” Katherine said slowly.

“Still, it may well cover the expenses incurred this week for the ball and the wedding itself. Which is something to be grateful for at least.”

“Is it?”

“Keeps the creditors away for another day.” Edward uttered a harsh laugh. The man was a far better actor than Gwen had imagined. “After the wedding, however...”

“After the wedding?”

“After the wedding is a different story, I’m afraid.” Edward blew a long breath. “You should be aware that Henry’s fortune is, and always has been, tied inexorably to mine. And mine is...”

“Yes?”

“It’s difficult for a man to admit his investments have not turned out as he hoped or that his debts are exceeding his assets.”

“Bad investments, massive debt and insolvency,” Katherine murmured.

“It’s not quite to that point yet. Well, insolvency anyway. And I am taking steps to prevent bankruptcy,” Edward added quickly. For a moment, Gwen almost believed him herself. “Selling off property, economizing, that sort of thing.”

“Yes, I am familiar with that sort of thing,” she said weakly.

“Excellent.” Edward exhaled a sigh of relief. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that Henry has found a bride well used to the modest circumstances we will soon find ourselves in. I say.” His tone brightened. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Good Lord, no.” Horror sounded in Katherine’s voice. “We have always employed a cook.”

Gwen pinched the skin between her thumb and first finger to keep from laughing.

“I shall have to ask your father how he manages it. After the wedding of course. No need to sully this festive occasion with practical matters like finance and impoverishment.”

“No need at all,” Katherine said faintly.

“I hear there’s a woman in the village who can come in to cook once or twice a week. And I’m sure the three of us will manage quite nicely until our circumstances turn around. Which I am confident they will do. Eventually.”

“But Henry and I will be living in Henry’s house in London.”

“I’m afraid London is out of the question.”

“What do you mean?” A definite hint of panic edged Katherine’s words.

“Oh, well, this is awkward.”

“What’s awkward?” Katherine’s voice rose.

“Henry hasn’t told you, then?”

“Told me what?”

“His house in London is not as much his as it is his family’s.” Edward sighed deeply. “That house, you see, along with my residence in London, as well as nearly everything else, will have to go. However—” his tone brightened “—we should be able to keep Danby Manor. For a while anyway. So good news, there.”

“That is...good.”

The chair groaned as Edward obviously got to his feet.

“I do hope I haven’t upset you but I thought it best if everything was out in the open.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want any unexpected surprises after the wedding day.”

“No, of course not...”

“Fortunately, as you and Henry are a love match, our reduced financial circumstances will be nothing more than a bump in the road of your life together.”

“A bump in the road,” Katherine echoed then cleared her throat. “I believe our guests will be arriving shortly, so if that is all...” Her skirts rustled.

“I can’t think of anything else. I must say, I’m glad you’ve taken this so well. Not everyone would, you know. And I can’t tell you how delighted I am that my dear brother will have someone like you by his side throughout the difficult times ahead. For the rest of your days. Until you both breathe your last.”

Goodness, that was a bit much. But Edward was right. This was fun.

“Perhaps you should retire until the guests arrive, Katherine. You’re looking a bit pale.”

“I believe I shall.”

Gwen heard the library door open and close.

“You can come out now.”

Gwen pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Edward stood by an open cabinet, disguised in the same manner as the door to his office, pouring two glasses of what looked like good Scottish whisky.

“A splendid performance, Edward, simply splendid.” Gwen crossed the room and accepted a glass. “I’m assuming it was all an act.”

“I assure you, Gwen, our finances are as sound as the Bank of England itself.” He grinned. “I was good, wasn’t I?”

“You were indeed. As was your butler.” Gwen sipped her whisky and savored the intensity of the drink. It was an excellent quality. “Did you tell him what this was about?”

“I did need his cooperation and I do trust Jervis implicitly. Besides, as it turns out, Katherine has not endeared herself to the staff.”

“Imagine my surprise.” Gwen grinned. “My congratulations, Edward. Why, I almost believed you myself.”

“That’s good to know and I do thank you. But the more important question is—” he raised his glass “—did she?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IT WASN’T AS if this was her first ball. Celia had been to any number of balls before. Specifically, four such social events, which probably did not qualify as “any number.” One was even in London, although admittedly the rest were country affairs, as was the ball tonight. But this was given by an earl. Certainly Father was a viscount but there was a vast difference between a nearly impoverished viscount and a wealthy earl. In this ballroom, liveried footmen carried trays of champagne, and a constantly replenished refreshment table offered bowls of fresh berries and platters of cakes and all manner of sweets and savories. And it did seem most of the people here were Lord So-and-So and Lady Such-and-Such and Sir Whateverhisnamewas. It was a most imposing gathering.

Aunt Guinevere, Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore knew a startling number of people and were apparently quite well connected. Between introductions from the ladies and those made by Edward, Celia must have met nearly everyone at the gathering.

Still, it was not as enjoyable as it might have been under other circumstances. The underlying purpose of the evening, after all, was to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Henry and Katherine.

And then there were the rumors Celia overheard in passing. The offhand remarks she caught all evening about Henry and Edward’s financial problems. She wondered if this was part of her aunt’s plan to stop the wedding but when Celia mentioned it, Aunt Guinevere said she had more pressing matters to attend to than gossip. Which did seem to indicate Aunt Guinevere had something else in mind and the talk might well be true. Poor Edward. He really did need a nice, rich heiress. Perhaps Aunt Guinevere and her friends could find him one.

Celia’s dance card had been given to her already filled with eligible men, as was Louise’s. As the bride, Katherine’s card was filled as well, mostly with older gentlemen, friends of Henry’s family and the like. Katherine did not look pleased. Indeed, she appeared less and less the blushing bride and more and more vexed as the night wore on. Perhaps she, too, was hearing the rumors. Regardless, she kept a perfect smile plastered on her face. No one who did not know her well would have suspected she was anything but blissfully happy.

“I believe this is my dance,” Henry said behind her.

Celia braced herself. She had noted Henry’s name on her dance card and had protested to Aunt Guinevere. In spite of agreeing to one dance with him, upon further consideration, she thought it would be best not to tempt fate. It was increasingly difficult to spend any time with him at all without wanting more. But her aunt had said it would be extremely odd if the bride’s sisters did not share a dance with the groom. Still, it did not strike Celia as a wise idea, although it did seem there was no choice. She adopted a polite expression and turned toward him.

Her smile faltered at the intense look in his eyes.

Henry nodded a bow. “You look lovely tonight, Celia.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Pleasure coursed through her. The pale blue gown—flounced satin with lace-trimmed bodice and short, puffed sleeves that revealed her shoulders—was her very best and she did look well in it. Still, it was lovely to hear. Especially from him.

“I was afraid you intended to avoid me.” He offered his arm.

She laid her hand lightly on his sleeve—steeling herself to the feel of his arm beneath her touch—and accompanied him onto the dance floor. “I did, but my aunt pointed out how curious it would appear if I did not share a dance with the man who will soon be my brother-in-law. I assume you are dancing with Louise, as well.”

“I already have. It was quite...enlightening.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently Louise is somewhat concerned as to my finances.” He took her right hand in his left; his other hand rested on the small of her back. A shiver ran through her. She swallowed hard and carefully placed her left hand on his shoulder.

“Should she be?” she said absently, amazed that she could manage to say anything at all.

“No.” Irritation sounded in his voice. “She mentioned hearing some sort of rumor.”

There was something so horribly right about being in his embrace. As if she were made to fit perfectly against him. As if his arms should always be around her. She wondered that she didn’t swoon at the feel of his body close to hers. Her heart fluttered hard in her chest.

“Have you heard anything?”

“What?” She stared up at him. “I am sorry. I’m obviously somewhat distracted and...well...”

“No, I’m the one who should apologize.” His expression softened. “I shouldn’t be talking about this. I daresay it’s probably of no real significance.”

“Goodness, Henry.” She forced a lighthearted note into her voice. “If we are to have only one dance together, I should hate to ruin it with talk of gossip.”

“You’re right of course.”

The music started and he gathered her a bit closer. Not so close as to violate the bounds of propriety but close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. See the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, smell the faint spicy scent of him. She’d never quite realized how terribly personal the simple act of sharing a waltz really was. This might be why it was once considered quite scandalous. Understandable, really, although the intimacy of it might well depend on with whom you were sharing that waltz.

Perhaps it was the strain of all that stretched between them, the weight of everything they would never say to each other. Everything they would never do. Perhaps it was the acknowledgment that this dance would be their first and their last. Or perhaps he was as afraid as she to say anything at all, afraid of what either of them might confess in an unguarded moment, but they danced together in silence. Silence heavy and fraught with longing and resignation. Apparently, if they weren’t going to talk about gossip or financial problems, they weren’t going to talk about anything at all.

“I am not an especially proficient dancer,” Henry said finally.

“I think you’re doing quite well.”

“Edward is much better. You should dance with him.”

“I believe his name is on my dance card,” she said and again silence fell between them. This was far worse than anything she could have imagined. And it was absurd.

“I really don’t think—” she began.

“This wasn’t at all—” he said at the same time.

Her gaze locked with his and for a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes. At last he grinned and she laughed.

“The last thing I expected was that this would be awkward.” Henry shook his head.

“As did I.” She paused. “Dare I ask what you did expect?”

“I don’t know, really. Perhaps I thought...” He sighed. “I thought if I danced with you once, it would be enough to sustain me. I would not have the need to dance with you again. Or hold you again in my arms or—”

“Henry.” She kept her voice light but her tone was firm. “This discussion does neither of us any good.” Still... “And were you right?”

“Apparently not.”

“Which only adds to the awkwardness,” she murmured. For the briefest of moments, the thought flashed through her mind that perhaps Aunt Guinevere was right. Perhaps the sanctity of one’s word could be sacrificed for the happiness of one’s future. But it did seem to Celia that was a decision one had to make for oneself, no matter how much someone else longed to do so. She drew a steadying breath. “Come now, Henry, we are made of sterner stuff than to moan about those things that cannot be changed. We have accepted our fate and that is the end of it.”

He studied her with amusement. “I suspect you would be a very good influence on me, Celia Bromley.”

“And I suspect you are the last person who needs a good influence.”

“I have been giving this, giving us—”

“There is no us.”

“I realize that. Nonetheless, even you have to admit there is something—”

“Henry—”

“Please, Celia, allow me to continue. As I was saying, I have given our circumstances a great deal of thought. Indeed, I’ve thought of little else.” He paused. “I think in the future it would be best if we avoided each other altogether, at least until whatever feelings we share have faded.”

And wasn’t that the saddest thing she’d ever heard? “I agree, although I should like to point out I was not the one who asked to dance with you.”

A corner of his mouth quirked upward in a wry half smile. “It appears I am not as strong as I would wish when it comes to you.”

The oddest lump formed in her throat.

“It shouldn’t be difficult, really,” he continued. “Katherine and I will either be in London or here at Danby Manor, whereas I imagine you will return to Bromwick Abbey.”

“Actually, I won’t be returning to the abbey. My aunt has invited me to come live with her in London and I think it’s time—past time, really—that I moved beyond the borders of my very narrow life to see what the rest of the world entails.”

His brow furrowed. “I see.”

“As Katherine and I have never been especially fond of each other, I daresay I won’t be invited to dinner regularly, if at all. And London is a very big place. I can’t imagine we will stumble upon one another unexpectedly. I do, however, intend to find a new bookstore to frequent,” she added quickly.

“That’s probably for the best.” He led her through an easy turn.

“I wish you would stop saying that,” she said without thinking.

“Saying what?”

“That it’s for the best.” Her tone rang sharper than she had intended. “I have done what’s for the best my entire life. But none of this feels for the best. In fact, it feels quite horrible.”

His hand tightened around hers. “And yet, we agree, we have no choice.”

“On the contrary, we have choices.” She blew a frustrated breath. “They are simply very bad choices. The kind of choices neither of us would be able to live with. The kind that would surely, eventually, destroy us.”

“As I said—” he smiled, a sad, wistful sort of smile “—we have no choice.”

They continued on in silence, moving to the music without conscious effort, in perfect step with each other. As if they had danced together always. As if whatever wicked gods ruled this sort of thing were pointing out just how much they were losing. And no doubt laughing. Would this dance never end?

“I find the silence between us to be worse than when we are saying things that we shouldn’t,” she said at last and summoned a brilliant smile. “The weather is delightful for this time of year. Don’t you agree?”

“I do indeed.” He chuckled. “But I daresay we can find something fairly innocent to talk about besides weather.” He paused. “Your aunt mentioned that your uncle is given to the pursuit of extraordinary adventures. If, as you said, you are to move beyond the borders of your life, do you foresee following your uncle’s example and having extraordinary adventures?”

“Now you’re teasing me.”

Henry gasped in feigned indignation. “Me? Never!”

She ignored him. “No, of course I can’t have extraordinary adventures like Uncle Charles. I am a woman, after all. I don’t imagine I shall be exploring the jungles of Africa or searching for the remains of lost civilizations.” She thought for a moment. “But I suspect if one seizes opportunities when they are presented, life itself can be an extraordinary adventure.”

“Your aunt also said going down the road of life hand in hand with the one you love is an extraordinary adventure.”

Celia stared up into his dark eyes. No matter how innocuous their conversations began, they always drifted into dangerous waters. “I imagine it is, Henry, I imagine it is.”

Mercifully, the music finally drew to a close. She wanted—no, needed—to put distance between them. She stepped out of his arms at once, ignoring how incredibly difficult it was to do so. And ignoring as well the aching sense of loss sweeping through her.

“Celia.” Her name was a plea on his lips. Or a prayer. A desperate sort of resignation shone in his eyes.

Her throat tightened. “I believe I see my next partner,” she lied, peering around him. She clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms. Any minute now, she would lose whatever self-control she still managed to cling to and dissolve into a whimpering puddle of sorrow right here in the middle of the ballroom. She summoned a bright smile. “If you will excuse me, Henry.”

She nodded and started off, feeling his gaze following her every step. Hopefully, she would soon lose him in the crowd and the mild chaos that blossomed between every dance with couples either stepping off the floor or taking up new positions. Celia had no idea who her next partner was nor did she care. She had no desire to dance at the moment. She needed a few minutes of respite to compose herself.

And she needed air. She snapped open the fan that hung at her wrist. It was pointless. The room was overly hot and far too crowded and a feeble fan was of no good at all. Her blasted corset was probably too tight as well but then it always was. She made her way toward the terrace doors, propped open as a futile invitation to the fresh air outside.

She paused and looked back at the gathering. She didn’t see Henry, which hopefully meant he didn’t see her. She didn’t want him following her onto a darkened terrace. No, all she wanted was a moment to breathe. A moment alone to come to grips with the deep wrenching feel of sorrow and loss that wrapped around her very soul.

And shattered her heart.

CHAPTER TWELVE

EVEN AS CELIA disappeared into the milling crowd, Henry’s heart cracked with a pain that was almost physical. How could he let her walk away?

How could he do anything else?

He turned and wandered aimlessly through the crowd. He couldn’t go back on his word but perhaps there was another way out of this marriage. Maybe he should simply be honest with Katherine. They’d barely talked at all since her arrival at Danby, at least not privately. She and her aunt had been far too busy with preparations for the wedding and he’d been too busy realizing what a fool he’d been. But wasn’t it entirely possible that she, too, now understood what a mistake their marriage would be?

Henry spotted her about to dance with Mr. Jennings. Jennings owned a nearby estate and Henry had known the family all of his life. He made his way toward them.

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Henry smiled. “But I have not danced with my fiancée all night, so I was hoping—”

“Quite right, my boy.” The older man chuckled. “I am disappointed of course, but I know the way these things are.”

“I, too, am disappointed.” Katherine cast him a brilliant smile. “Another time perhaps.”

“I shall look forward to it. She is all yours, Henry. Miss Bromley.” Jennings nodded a bow to Katherine and took his leave.

“Thank God,” Katherine said with a sigh of relief. She stepped into his arms and they started into the dance. “I’m not sure I could take one more minute with yet another old letch who fancies himself a gift to women.”

“Mr. Jennings was a very good friend of my father’s,” Henry said mildly.

“Regardless, I found him—I find all of them—to be dreadfully unappealing.” She frowned and glanced around the ballroom. “There are a fair number of young suitable gentlemen here. Why is my dance card not filled with their names?”

“I have no idea, Katherine. I did not fill out your dance card, but perhaps it’s because you are to be a bride in a few days and their dances are reserved for the more eligible ladies.”

“I suppose.” She huffed.

“Katherine,” he began, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“About what, Henry?” she said absently, her gaze still scanning the ballroom.

“I think everything has happened too quickly.” He braced himself. “I think we should postpone the wedding.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”

“I wish to be perfectly honest with you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“We barely know each other. And frankly, the more we are around one another, the more apparent it is that we do not suit.”

She frowned. “Don’t be absurd.”

“I think our marriage is a mistake.”

“Because we don’t know each other well?” She scoffed. “Good Lord, Henry. Getting to know each other is what marriage is all about. Why, most people scarcely know more than each other’s names when they marry.”

“Regardless, I think two people who are about to be wed should have something in common. And I get the distinct feeling you don’t particularly like me.”

“Nonsense, Henry, of course I like you.” She fluttered her lashes in a practiced manner. “Don’t you like me?”

“I don’t really know you.”

“We’re back to that again, are we?” She shrugged, managing to do so without so much as a tiny misstep. “I shall make you an excellent wife. You really don’t need to know more than that.”

“Even so—”

“You are everything I have ever wanted in a husband, Henry. Your family’s name and reputation are impeccable. Oh, certainly, Edward had a bit of fun in his youth but nothing society hasn’t already forgiven. Excellent breeding—quality—always shows. I couldn’t hope for more. Best of all, your brother is an earl and at the moment you are his only heir.”

Henry stared. “I do anticipate Edward will marry one day.”

“Until then, you are next in line to be the Earl of Danby. And who knows what might happen in the future. If anything were to happen to—”

“Katherine!”

“God forbid.” She sighed. “But the fact remains that you are next in line to be the earl. And if Edward doesn’t marry and have an heir, our son would be the next earl. I should like to be a countess—that should come as no surprise to you. Barring that, I wouldn’t at all mind being the mother of an earl.”

Shock held his tongue. He had no idea what to say.

“In addition, you are rather handsome.” She smiled pleasantly. “That will suffice for now. It is unfortunate about your finances—”

Henry frowned. “Have you been listening to gossip?”

She hesitated. “I have heard the rumors, of course.”

“I assure you, nothing you’ve heard is even remotely accurate.”

“Come now, Henry.” She cast him a pitying look. “I spoke to Edward. He told me everything.”

“Did he?” Henry said slowly. What was his brother up to? “What do you mean by ‘everything’?”

She studied him closely for a moment. Her eyes widened with understanding. “You don’t know everything, do you?” She shook her head. “Poor Henry. I never realized how difficult it must be to be the spare heir.”

He ignored her. “I do not intend to discuss matters of finance with you in the middle of a dance floor or ever. Even as my wife, my finances, and my family’s, are none of your concern.”

“Very well.” Her expression hardened. “But you did say you wished to be perfectly honest with me.”

He nodded.

“In the interest of perfect honesty, then, on my part anyway, let me say this.” A determined gleam shone in her green eyes. “Postponing this wedding is the first step toward canceling it altogether. I will not permit that. I much prefer to be the sister-in-law of an earl whose fortunes will surely reverse at some point than the daughter of a penniless viscount with no prospects whatsoever. If you are having second thoughts now, I would suggest it’s not uncommon for a groom as his wedding day approaches and indeed is to be expected.”

“I think this is a mistake.”

“Then it is one we shall live with,” she said sharply. “You asked my father for my hand, you asked me to marry you. I accepted you in all good faith. And I expect you to abide by your word.”

He stared down at her. “Don’t you want to be happy, Katherine?”

“My dear Henry.” She smiled up at him, a wicked, nasty sort of smile, and his stomach turned. “I fully intend to be.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

KATHERINE HAD AT least been perfectly honest.

Henry leaned against one of the gallery columns, a glass of whisky in his hand, and gazed unseeing at the crowd of friends and acquaintances. Everyone seemed to be having an excellent time. He doubted that aside from Ned and Celia, a single person here knew how very much the groom wished to cancel the wedding and how very determined the bride was to go through with it.

Henry now knew exactly where he stood with his bride-to-be. She had not only confirmed his suspicions but strengthened his desire not to marry her. Even if he’d never met Celia, this was a dreadful, horrible, irrevocable error in judgment. Something very much akin to panic simmered inside him.

Perhaps he and Celia should run off together. Go somewhere far away. Why not America? It did seem to offer considerable opportunity. Or anyplace where they could leave the past behind. But he would know he had broken his promise, and worse, she would know and she was right. Doing what they knew was wrong would eventually destroy them.

How could he possibly marry that woman?

How could he not?

Going back on his word went against everything he believed, everything he thought himself to be. Everything his father expected him to be. Ned was right. It was hard to be the good brother.

Had Ned heard the gossip about their finances? His brother really should be aware of that. And what on earth had he said to Katherine? Henry scanned the crowd but Ned was nowhere in sight. He signaled a passing footman.

“Have you seen his lordship, John?”

“Not recently, sir.”

“Then where did you last see him?”

“He was stepping out onto the terrace.” The young man paused. “But he was not alone.”

“Of course not.” Henry sighed and handed the footman his nearly empty glass. While Ned had accepted his responsibilities in recent years and put most of his scandalous ways behind him, he still could not resist an assignation with a lovely woman.

“It has been some time since then, sir,” John added.

Henry nodded and started toward the open doors. A voice in the back of his head noted he had not seen Celia since their dance. He glanced around the ballroom but couldn’t spot her pale blue gown. Perhaps she was simply out of sight. Or perhaps she had decided to retire for the night.

Or perhaps she was on the terrace with his brother?

Something vile and hard washed through him and his step quickened. How could Ned do this to him? Ned knew how Henry felt about Celia. Even if there was nothing Henry could do about it. Even if she was certainly free to be with someone else. Even if...

No, regardless of the circumstances, his brother would never attempt to seduce a woman Henry loved. His ire faded. Henry may well be the good brother but Ned was certainly not bad. A bit wayward perhaps. He’d always savored a good time and had never hesitated to break the rules of proper behavior. For the most part, that was in the past. Besides, if Henry trusted no one else in his life, he trusted his brother.

Of course, if Ned had encountered Celia and she was upset over her exchange with Henry, it was entirely possible Ned had tried to comfort her. Wrapped his arms around her as one might do to a friend in need. And if she then lifted her face to his, Ned might look into her remarkable blue eyes and forget—just for a moment—that Henry was in love with her. And he might lose himself in those eyes and press his lips to hers...

Absolutely not!

Ned was not so weak as that. Nor was he so thoughtless.

Henry stepped out onto the terrace and glanced around. There were several figures at the far end to his right. To his left, a flash of silk caught the starlight. Partially in the shadows, a female figure gazed out at the gardens. It might not be Celia but the closer he neared, the more certain he was that it was her.

“Celia?”

“Henry! What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” He paused. “You’re alone, then.”

“Of course I’m alone. Although you would be surprised at how many people wander out on this terrace who are not alone and are obviously looking for more than just a breath of—”

Before he could stop himself, before he even realized what he was doing, he reached out, pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She braced her hands on his chest and he thought she meant to push him away. Instead, her hands fisted in the fabric of his coat and she pulled him tighter against her.

For a long moment he savored the feel of her mouth, soft and yielding beneath his. He relished in the taste of her, of strawberries and champagne and sunshine. She clung to him and he lost himself in a haze of sensation and need. Surely this was how a man must feel when he was drowning, buffeted by forces beyond his control, helpless yet welcoming the oblivion.

He knew the moment she came to her senses. Her lips against his stilled and she pushed out of his arms.

“Good Lord, Henry, what are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I haven’t been thinking since the moment I met you.”

“Apparently not, as you asked my sister to marry you.”

“True, but if I hadn’t I never would have found you again.” And wasn’t that a point in his favor?

“And a lot of good that does us.” Apparently not.

“I am well aware of that.”

“You kissed me, Henry.” She scowled at him as if he had done something truly horrible. When in fact it had been quite the most wonderful kiss of his entire life.

“I am aware of that, as well.” He paused. “Might I point out you kissed me back?”

“No, you may not!”

“And I would wager you enjoyed it every bit as much as I did.”

“That is beside the point.” She blew a frustrated breath. “Apparently, I wasn’t thinking, either.”

“I do apologize.” Although while he felt it necessary to apologize, he wasn’t truly sorry. The memory of that kiss would have to last a lifetime. “I don’t know what came over me.” He shook his head. “I am not usually so impulsive, or impulsive at all, but I thought you were out here with Edward—”

“Edward?” She glared. “Why on earth would I be out here with Edward?”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he said without thinking and immediately wished the words back.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You thought I might be here with Edward for, well, the sorts of things everyone else seems to come out here for?”

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“With your brother?” Her voice rose.

“No.” He scoffed. “Of course not. Well, not really.”

“I should hope not. I can assure you that if I was here with Edward, it would be for no other purpose than to indulge in a few moments of private conversation.”

“I realize that.” He hated the note of desperation in his voice but he couldn’t seem to vanquish it. “It’s just that Edward had said how wonderful you were and had mentioned that he might well be interested—”

“Good Lord!” Disbelief rang in her voice. “Are you both mad?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible, I suppose, but I doubt it.” Although at the moment, madness was not a bad excuse. “He only said what he did to entice me into admitting how I felt about you.”

“So you were jealous?”

He shrugged in a helpless manner.

“I see.” She paused. “Was it like the dance, Henry? If you kissed me just once, it would be enough?”

“No, I—”

“It isn’t, is it?”

“No.”

“If anything, you’ve made it worse.” She shook her head. “We cannot continue to say we aren’t going to see each other and then do so whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

“You’re right, of course.”

She drew a deep breath. “There cannot be a repeat of this.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“I want your word. Promise me this will not happen again.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I can’t.”

“And I cannot guarantee that I am able to keep my own feelings at bay.” Her voice softened. “I never imagined something so very wrong would feel so very right.”

“Celia, I—”

“But I cannot—I will not—allow this to happen again.” Even in the faint starlight he could see determination in the set of her chin. “The only way to truly deal with temptation is to remove it entirely.”

“What do you mean?” Fear clutched at his heart.

“As neither of us apparently has the strength of character necessary to manage our circumstances—” she heaved a resigned sigh “—as soon as possible, even before the wedding if it can be arranged, I intend to leave Danby to take up residence in London with my aunt. And...”

His breath caught. “And?”

“And I never want to see you again, Henry. I can’t.” She stepped toward the terrace door then paused. “It’s for the best.” She nodded and continued on her way, out of his life. Forever.

He stared after her. She was right, one dance, one kiss would never be enough with Celia. He was an idiot to have believed that for so much as an instant.

But then stupidity seemed to have become part of his nature of late. Since he’d met Celia, since he’d met Katherine, he’d done one ill-advised thing after another. But the most insane act of all still lay ahead. And that he could do something about.

Resolve swept through him and he started toward the ballroom. If Ned hadn’t yet come up with an idea to save Henry from this wedding, Henry would have to beg off. He was not going to sacrifice the rest of his life to a stupid mistake. After tonight, after everything Katherine had revealed, going through with the wedding would be absurd. Living with himself after going back on his word wouldn’t be nearly as hard as living with Katherine. Celia might never understand but then he suspected he had already lost her. He would be miserable enough spending the rest of his life without her; he’d prefer not to compound that with a wife he couldn’t abide. Father would have understood—once he met Katherine. Besides, his father never would have encouraged him to keep his commitment to a woman who was only interested in his family connections and his fortune. Father had a name for women like that.

Henry found Ned engaged in a lighthearted flirtation with a pretty red-haired lady. He caught his brother’s gaze and indicated he needed to speak to him. A few minutes later Ned joined him in the library.

“What did you say to Katherine?” Henry asked without preamble, handing his brother a freshly poured glass of whisky.

Ned studied him coolly. “Are you certain you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t like it. It involves a certain amount of deceit and deception and outright lies.”

“I am a desperate man, Ned. I am willing to accept anything that will save me.”

“It might jeopardize your standing as the good brother.”

“It’s a risk I will take,” Henry said wryly and sipped his whisky.

“So the good brother isn’t quite as good as one might think.” Ned grinned.

“Desperate times, Ned. Now, what have you done?”

“As we agree that one of the qualities your bride seems to appreciate most in you is the size of your banking accounts—”

Henry grimaced.

“—one can assume if you’d lost your fortune she would call off the wedding. So I simply led her to believe you were broke.” Ned took a sip of whisky. “I told her we both were.”

“Do you realize there are rampant rumors about that very thing?”

“Excellent.” Ned grinned. “You can thank Mrs. Blodgett and her friends for that. It was their idea.”

“Was it?”

“And a brilliant one at that.” Ned chuckled.

“But it’s a lie.” Henry stared at his brother. “Unless there is something you’re not telling me.”

“I suspect there are all sorts of things I haven’t told you.” He flashed his brother an unrepentant grin. “Did you meet that lovely widow I was—”

“Ned!”

“Yes, I suppose that can wait. Although she’s American and quite engaging... Not that it matters at the moment of course.” He paused. “I realize you do not condone deceit, Henry. And for offending your overly honest sensibilities, I do apologize. However—” he raised his glass “—it was done in your best interest and regardless of what you might think, I will not tell Katherine the truth. If this saves you from an unwanted marriage to that scheming witch—”

“It won’t.” Henry shook his head. “I spoke with Katherine earlier, hoping that she had realized what a mistake our marriage would be. It seems she is confident in your abilities to recover the family fortunes.”

“Surely not.” Ned stared in disbelief.

“Oh, yes. Furthermore, she doesn’t seem to think that you will ever marry, which means eventually I, or my future son, will be the earl.” Henry blew a long breath. “Apparently, she wants the position more than the money.”

“Well, this is certainly an unexpected twist in the game.” Ned thought for a moment. “We’ll simply have to come up with something else.”

“No, Ned.” Henry shook his head. “I’m going to beg off. I can’t marry her.”