One Week To Wed

Chapter Two

Andrew saw no sense in accompanying the funeral procession to St Paul’s and helping to add to the spectacle. His brothers could do that for him. He arrived at the Cathedral after the funeral service had already begun, making his way up the aisle past prominent Members of Parliament and the ton to slip into the row his brothers were occupying not far from the altar. Monty covered a yawn as he nodded a silent greeting to him.

It wasn’t until the bishop began the eulogy that Andrew shifted his gaze and noticed a black-ostrich plume sway in the front row, across the aisle. He shifted his head and saw the back of a woman wearing a black bonnet like the one he had seen on the woman he almost ran into while leaving Skeffington’s house. This wasn’t the place for a woman.

‘What do you know of the new Duke?’ he whispered, tipping his head towards Monty.

‘You mean Skeffington’s mysterious heir? No one I know has ever heard of him.’

‘Nephew?’

‘Distant cousin.’

‘Married?’

‘I would assume he’s married or a widower.’

Could he have run into the new Duchess of Skeffington when he was leaving the wake? It might explain why she was in the front of the church now. If they lived in the country they might not know women in Town did not attend burials.

Andrew craned his neck further to try to get a glimpse of the new Duke, but his view was blocked by the rows of mourners. His attention was drawn once more to the back of the black bonnet. If only her face hadn’t been covered with a veil, he would have a better idea of what she looked like.

As if the universe had called out to her, the woman turned and scanned the rows of mourners. However, this wasn’t the woman Andrew had almost knocked over. It was Skeffington’s widow. There was no mistaking her in the dim light of the cathedral with the veil of the bonnet tucked above the brim, revealing her face.

As her eyes locked on to his with the precision of a sniper, Andrew shifted his gaze to the bishop so quickly, it was a wonder he hadn’t injured his eye sockets.

* * *

The bishop was telling them not to mourn Skeffington’s death, but celebrate the life he lived. Charlotte hadn’t known Lizzy’s husband very well. He had barely spoken to her when they were in the same room and what he had said could be considered rather dismissing. From the newspaper accounts she had read about him and from Lizzy’s letters, he appeared to have behaved that way with most people.

But regardless of what she thought of Lizzy’s husband, the bishop was still wrong. There was no celebration in death. It only left intense pain for those who loved them. When Jonathan died on the battlefield, Charlotte died along with him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lizzy turn around. Softly, Charlotte stepped on Lizzy’s slipper, drawing her sister’s attention back to the front of the church.

‘Why did you do that?’ Lizzy whispered harshly.

They bent their heads so the brims of their bonnets were touching. ‘You really should be paying attention to your husband’s eulogy.’

‘The bishop’s probably expressing the same thing he did at the house this afternoon when he offered his condolences. Honestly, how many different ways can one talk about death? He probably says the same thing at all his burial services and just adjusts the names. And he is getting paid a tidy sum to say those words.’

‘You may find comfort in what he is saying?’

‘Do I truly look as though I need comforting?’

‘Not exactly, but you could pretend.’

There was a distinct pause to Lizzy’s movements. ‘That’s it. I’ll appear the grieving widow in need of comfort.’ She dabbed under her eyes with a handkerchief.

‘You look as though you have something in your eye.’

‘I’m crying.’

‘No matter how hard you wrinkle up your face, tears will not flow.’

‘Step on my foot.’

‘Why?’

‘Just do it.’

‘I will not. I’ve already stepped on your foot.’

‘Yes, yes, but do it harder this time. It needs to hurt so much, it brings tears to my eyes.’

‘I will not help you perpetrate a lie in the house of God.’

‘It won’t be a lie if you step on my foot hard enough.’

‘I will not. Now, stop talking and pay attention,’ Charlotte whispered firmly back.

Lizzy turned around once more. And once more Charlotte stepped on her foot.

‘I said harder. How am I to cry if you can’t manage to maim me?’

‘What in the world has captured your attention at a time like this?’

‘He’s here.’

‘Who? The next Duke? If you wish to remain here, I suggest you do nothing to call attention to yourself. He might drag us both back home, which I could understand.’

‘Not him. The man I’ve wanted ever since my first Season, but Father made me marry Skeffington instead. He is the brother of the Duke of Winterbourne.’

Charlotte turned to try to see who her sister was looking at, but the men behind them blocked her view. ‘How is it you’ve never mentioned him before?’

‘I did, the night of my coming-out ball, but shortly after that Father told me I’d be marrying Skeffington. I thought I’d lost my chance to marry him, but all this time he has remained unwed. Now I can finally have him.’

Charlotte had tried to convince their mother to speak out against Lizzy’s marriage. Their mother would not hear of it. For years Charlotte had suffered with guilt that she could have done more to stop the marriage. She had been newly married herself then and Jonathan advised her not to approach her father on the issue. She had often wondered if she had, would it have made a difference. Whoever this man was, Lizzy deserved him. She deserved to fall in love with that one person who would make her life so much better just by being in it—everyone did.

They were leaving for Charlotte’s home in Cheshire in a few days, so Lizzy could begin her full mourning period away from the tempting entertainments of London. She was relieved her sister agreed that, if she remained in Town reading newspaper accounts of all the balls, routs and dinners that she was missing, she would be miserable. Now they had months to spend together again. And when Lizzy returned to Town, Charlotte was certain there would be no stopping her sister from trying to win the gentleman who stood somewhere behind them.

Chapter Three

Four months later...

Andrew stood outside Gabriel’s study and knocked on the large mahogany door. There was a time when he wouldn’t have had to wait for approval to enter, but since his brother had reconciled with his wife a little less than a year ago, Andrew had got into the habit of knocking. At the muffled sound of Gabriel’s response, he turned the handle and walked into the room.

His brother was seated at his massive desk and his attention was on a piece of paper resting on its surface, while he absently ran his fingers through his short light brown hair. Andrew sank into the well-cushioned chair across from him and held back a yawn. Gabriel barely acknowledged him since he was so engrossed in the task at hand. As the head of an organisation that protected the King and Prince Regent, as well as being a Member of Parliament, it wasn’t uncommon for Gabriel to be in the middle of something when Andrew entered his study.

After a few more minutes, Gabriel looked up and arched his brow. ‘Hell, man, you look awful.’

Andrew had ridden back to London in the early morning hours from Windsor and he hadn’t had any sleep. ‘I realise I’m not as impeccably attired as you, but I do believe awful is an exaggeration.’

‘I wasn’t referring to what you are wearing. I was referring to those bloodshot eyes you can’t seem to keep open and the shave you desperately need.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You need sleep.’

Andrew waved the suggestion away. His leather glove rubbed against the cut on his right hand, irritating it through the bandage. As he removed both gloves, Gabriel’s keen eyes focused on the cotton strip.

‘How did you get that?’

‘A knife fight at Windsor. It’s small.’

‘How will you explain that one away?’

‘I box regularly at Jackson’s. There are times I like to bare-knuckle brawl. It’s well known. No one questions my scars.’

‘You once told Nicholas ladies like men with scars. He was eager to inform me of that bit of wisdom.’

‘The ladies I associate with do.’

‘However, not the ladies my six-year-old son does. I received word Kempt is now under guard in the Tower. Excellent work bringing him in.’

‘It wasn’t easy, but it made for an interesting day.’ He raised his bandaged hand to show how interesting it had been to capture the would-be assassin of King George. Andrew tilted his head in an attempt to read the papers on Gabriel’s desk.

His brother turned the stack over.

‘What else do you have for me to do? There must be some interrogation you can use my assistance on or a lead you need me to follow.’

‘I have nothing for you.’

That wasn’t possible. ‘You have nothing or nothing for me.’

‘Nothing for you at the moment. Enjoy some time to avoid knife fights and pursue your own interests.’

‘Knife fights are an interest of mine.’

‘Then go find other ones. You’ve been working for months without stop. When was the last time you spent a significant amount of time simply going wherever the day takes you, doing whatever you want to do?’

‘I would grow bored.’

‘You might find that you don’t.’

‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’

‘I am trying to ensure you do not drop from exhaustion or get injured because you have overtaxed yourself.’

‘If this is about my hand, I—’

‘This isn’t about your hand, Andrew. Although, move your fingers so I can be sure it’s not seriously damaged under that bandage.’

Andrew shoved his hand towards Gabriel and clenched it into a fist before opening it up and wiggling his fingers. It hurt like hell, but he’d be damned if he’d let his brother know.

‘When was the last time you went and visited a friend?’ Gabriel asked, pushing his chair away from his desk.

‘I went with Hart to the races not long ago.’

‘I meant with someone removed from what we do—outside London.’

‘Why would anyone want to go outside London? There is more to do here than anywhere else in the world.’

‘There are times it’s important to disengage from our work and give your mind and your nerves time to settle. You’ll be more effective for it.’

‘I wouldn’t know what to do.’

‘Isn’t there someone you’d like to see that you haven’t because you have not had the time?’

Andrew dropped his head back and stared at the coffered ceiling in Gabriel’s study, trying to think of anyone whose company he enjoyed enough to leave London. ‘Toby Knightly and I still write to one another. Do you remember him from Cambridge?’

Gabriel nodded. ‘Did you not share a room together?’

‘We did. He’s an out and outer and has been after me to visit him in Cheshire.’

‘Then go to Cheshire.’

A sly smile lifted Andrews lips. ‘You know there has been unrest in the north.’

‘Yes, I know. But you are not going there because of the unrest. You are going there because you need rest and visiting with Toby will be enjoyable.’

‘How do you know it will be enjoyable?’

‘Hell, man, just go!’

‘You will not give me another mission until I take my Grand Tour of the English countryside?’ he asked with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

‘No, not until I am certain you are well rested.’

‘Then you are leaving me no choice.’

‘I’m not. I am relieving you of all duties here for a month.’

‘A month! That’s absurd. A week.’

There was a tick in Gabriel’s jaw. ‘A fortnight and not a day sooner. Do I make myself clear? You are to completely disengage yourself for fourteen days.’

‘This new baby you and Olivia have had has softened your brain. Very well. Since you are not giving me a choice, I shall send word to Toby. I’d prefer not to arrive unannounced at his door.’

Gabriel sat back and smiled. ‘Our mother taught you well. She’d be proud.’

‘Well, she does like me best.’

‘I’m sure that has nothing to do with your grooming habits or your fashionable attire.’

‘My grooming habits are impeccable.’

‘You need a shave and a haircut.’

Andrew ran his hand through his hair that fell a bit past his collar. ‘I like it this length. And no matter what I wear, it will never be up to snuff according to you.’

‘I should increase your wages, maybe then you’d see fit to purchase some new coats.’

‘I can afford new coats on the income I make from my investments. However, should you see fit to increase my wages, I’ll not complain.’ He glanced down at the sleeve of his brown coat. ‘I like this coat. It’s perfectly worn. You make it sound as though I run around London in doublet and hose. I see no difference in the cut of my coats compared to the cut of the ones you wear.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’ A teasing smile was tugging at the corner of his brother’s mouth. ‘You might find you’d attract a different calibre of women if you didn’t consistently look as though you belong in a boxing ring.’

‘But I enjoy being in a boxing ring and I’m fine with the calibre of women I attract.’

‘Go, Andrew. Give yourself time to rest and release some of that tension.’

That tension was wound so tightly around every fibre of Andrew’s being it would never leave him. It had taken hold of him years ago, on a rainy night in Richmond when he confronted his beloved uncle who was holding a gun on Gabriel. Andrew did something that night he never thought he was capable of. He took his uncle’s life. Protecting the Crown had a way of changing a man. It had a way of forcing one to lock down emotions that made you vulnerable and allowed you to make the kinds of choices no man should ever have to make.

There was no sense in telling Gabriel that Andrew could move up north and it still would not matter. Andrew would never be without that tension that held down his emotions to enable him to be an effective and efficient operative. He would never live the life of a country gentleman like Toby. No small estate and pleasant wife were in his future. They were distractions he could not afford. He was a man who was always on a mission. To appease Gabriel he would leave, but it would change nothing.

Chapter Four

Settling into the comfortable wing-backed chair, Charlotte accepted a cup of tea from her friend Ann after their walk around the windy garden of Ann’s stately home in the Cheshire countryside.

‘Thank you again for your invitation to dine here tonight,’ Charlotte said. ‘Since Lizzy’s recent departure, the house seems unusually quiet. One would think I would be accustomed to the silence, but for some reason I’m feeling it rather acutely at the moment.’

‘I’m so glad you accepted my invitation,’ Ann replied with a smile, pouring tea into her Wedgwood teacup. ‘Since Toby invited one of his friends to stay with us, I am grateful for your companionship. Tonight, they went to dine in the village.’ She added a splash of milk to her cup. ‘You never did say why Lizzy decided to leave. I thought she would be staying longer.’

‘She had some estate matters to attend to in London.’ Charlotte was certain Lizzy’s hasty departure had more to do with searching out the Duke of Winterbourne’s brother before any other woman grabbed his attention than it did with her solicitor, but she was not about to betray her sister’s interest in the man.

Disapproval was evident on Ann’s face. ‘I know Lizzy. She’s too social a creature. Do you truly believe she will not attend any entertainments while she is there?’

That was the very concern Charlotte expressed while Lizzy was having trunk after trunk of her wardrobe brought out of Charlotte’s house and into her awaiting carriage. Lizzy had always been headstrong. Nothing was going to change that. All Charlotte could do was try to minimise the reactions people like Ann were bound to exhibit at the news. ‘It’s been four months,’ she replied, trying to sound as if that was a perfectly acceptable amount of time to wait before returning to Society.

‘Four months is not a year. She should be in mourning for a year.’

‘I’m aware of that. However, you can be as unconventional as you wish when you are a duchess.’

‘I suppose that is one advantage she had being married to him.’ Ann took a sip of tea and stared off into the distance, as if she were considering what it must have been like to be married to such an old man.

‘Lizzy has assured me she will just be attending the theatre and going to dinner parties. She certainly will not be marrying until a year has passed.’

The last statement was said more to appease Ann than because Charlotte actually believed it. If the Duke of Winterbourne’s brother asked for her hand the day she arrived back in London, she was certain Lizzy would accept, regardless of how close it was to Skeffington’s death. If they did get married, Charlotte would finally learn what the man’s name was. It was just like Lizzy to identify the man by the most prestigious thing about him and not by his name.

‘Everyone always said you three Sommersby sisters were all so different from one another.’

Charlotte shrugged. ‘Lizzy is eager to move forward with her life.’

‘She isn’t the only one who should move forward with her life.’ Ann arched her brow and a teasing smile played on her lips. ‘Do not roll your eyes. I am simply stating it is time for you to put the past behind you and look towards your future, as well. You are a beautiful, caring woman. Any man would be fortunate to have you as his wife.’ She took Charlotte’s hand in hers. ‘We all know you loved Jonathan. It’s a tragedy he never made it back from the war, but you have many years ahead of you to find love again.’

Why was it still necessary to defend her love for Jonathan to the people who professed to care about her? No one fell in love twice in a lifetime. ‘That part of my life is over. I am fortunate I do not need to marry again. I do not need excess extravagances like my sister does. I have simpler tastes.’

‘I wasn’t speaking of your financial situation and you know that. Although, if you were to find a wealthy man, it would not be a hardship.’ Ann gave a low chuckle.

They had discussed this before. Nothing would change. ‘How long will Toby’s friend be visiting? I wish to know how many days of excuses I will need to prepare myself with, should you need more company for dinner.’

Amusement sparkled in Ann’s blue eyes. ‘He will be staying with us for a fortnight. You certainly cannot find excuses for all of those days.’

‘I pray I will be fortunate and the gentlemen will discover they’d much rather dine at home each night and you will not be in need of companionship.’

‘I still could invite you to dine with us.’

‘And I can then freely decline, knowing you are not sitting all alone with a leg of mutton.’

‘It has been rather nice seeing Toby’s joy in being with his old friend.’

‘Have I met the gentleman before?’

Ann shook her head. ‘No. The last time Toby saw him was about six years ago. His name is Lord Andrew Pearce. They attended Cambridge together.’ Her eyes widened and she leaned forward. ‘I looked for him in Debrett’s.’

‘Please, I beg you, do not tell me of his lineage. I’ve spent the last four months with Lizzy. I’m convinced she has memorised the contents of that book and freely refers to the people she associates with solely by their most prestigious familial connection. I’ve had enough of titles to last a lifetime.’

Ann settled back in her chair with a laugh. ‘Very well. I’m sure you have.’

‘Where does Toby’s friend live? Six years is a long time not to see one another.’

‘London. Toby has visited him there on a few occasions, however Lord Andrew hasn’t had an opportunity to travel this way. I met him for the first time when he arrived this morning. They spent most of the afternoon shooting and this evening they went into the village for dinner. Toby was so eager to spend time with him, I didn’t have the heart to tell him they were being rude by leaving me home to dine by myself.’

‘What is your impression of Lord Andrew so far?’

‘I confess he is not what I expected. I assumed him to be a rather scholarly type. One who had his nose in books the way Toby does.’

‘And?’

‘And, he appears to be the type of man one finds in the village on race days or, I imagine, in a boxing ring at the local fair.’

Just as Charlotte was about to reply, the sound of Toby’s voice drifted in through the open doorway, followed by a deep rumbling sound that must have been the muffled reply of his friend. Intrigued by the image Ann had painted of Lord Andrew, Charlotte stared at the open doorway to catch a glimpse of him.

Toby came into view first and smiled when he spotted them. He looked neat and tidy with his blond hair cut very short and his narrow frame encased in brown breeches and a cinnamon-coloured wool coat. Then she caught sight of his friend—and her breath caught in her throat. She actually felt it!

He was an imposing-looking man—at least five inches taller than Toby’s average height. The cut of his blue coat showed off an impressive pair of broad shoulders and the definition of well-shaped arms. His light brown wavy hair grazed his collar and was a bit longer than was considered respectable, but it suited him and appeared neatly trimmed. His square jaw and the angles to his face would make it very easy to render his image in stone. The flicker of candlelight bounced off the gold buttons on his coat, drawing her attention back to his frame and her gaze dropped to his muscular thighs which were visible through his black breeches, tucked into a pair of topped boots. This was a man who enjoyed sport or rode extensively.