by Katy Madison
"He has a way of looking at me." Sophie blushed and realized she didn't want to discuss her rampant fascination with her future husband with her mother.
"Sophie, darling, that is all well and good, but you must think of behaving with more seemliness. In my day a young woman who was a little wild was looked upon with indulgence, but I'm afraid in today's society there is much less tolerance for untoward behavior."
"Should Keene dislike it?"
"You will be his wife and of course he will inform you of what he wants, but you must not speak of these things in the drawing room."
Sophie wasn't any more clear than a moment before, but sometimes her mother's explanations could get all tangled like a kitten's play yarn. Perhaps Keene would explain it to her better. She would ask him. "Yes, ma'am."
A servant knocked and entered the room with the tea cart.
* * *
Keene moved through the doorway and down the stairs to the library where, if he were lucky, he would find George in something less than a drunken stupor. He heard the rustle of Amelia's skirts as she followed him.
He flung back the door of the library and crossed the room. "Look who I have brought to see her papa."
George didn't look at him or the baby. "I'll ring for her nursemaid."
"Come, George, she is a pretty little thing. I daresay we should plan for her marriage. Perhaps I'll have a son, and we can pledge them to each other in the cradle."
"If that would please you."
George's dull response frustrated him. "And if my son is a no-good rascal, how should you feel then?"
George waved his hand as if dismissing the notion.
"Have you held her even once?" asked Keene softly.
"What care have you for the baby? Why are you always toting her around? Is there a chance she could be your brat?"
Amelia's stiff intake of breath brought both men to heel. She pressed her lips together as she crossed the room. "I'll just take her back to the nursery."
Keene reluctantly gave over the little bundle. "There is not a chance."
Amelia shut the door behind her, the fading sound of baby wails left the men in silence.
"That child did not choose her parents. She will know nothing of her lineage if you don't want it mentioned. I won't speak of it. Amelia only speaks of it when forced to, and Victor won't speak of it even if I have to shoot him again to keep his silence. You are the only father she will ever know."
George stared down at his desk.
Keene sank into one of the leather chairs by the window. "You disappoint me, sir. I thought you had more honor."
"I have so much honor, my friends trample over it gladly and laugh in their sleeves when I am too much the fool to realize."
"No one is laughing."
"I cannot look at that child without thinking of her conception."
"So Amelia was not virtuous. How many of us are?"
"I was." George's blue eyes met him sincerely.
"Well, then it is good that at least one of you knew what to do."
"You bastard."
"Yes. Well we all have our failings, George. Amelia has hers, but she loves you, and you were happy when you didn't realize that the child wasn't yours. She thought you knew and were just being kind in allowing her to keep her dignity."
"Did you know?"
"I knew the baby had been conceived before the marriage. All of us knew that when she began to show less than a month after your wedding."
"How you must have laughed at me."
"No one was laughing. I thought it was yours. Victor thought that the child could have been yours. It is only by your reaction and mine that he knows differently."
"I cannot look at her the same."
"Then look at her differently, but look at them both. The child who will know you as her father and the wife that is devoted to you now." Keene squirmed as he said the words. Was Amelia devoted enough?
George rubbed his hands over his face.
Would it ever be enough? "Think, man. She is your wife. You cannot turn your back on her, and the child doesn't deserve to be punished no matter who fathered her."
"What would you do? What if this little cousin of yours comes to you with another man's seed filling her belly?"
"I should make the most of it. I should not fault my future wife for a sin that I have repeatedly indulged in, and a child, any child, should never feel the lack of my affection."
"Then you do not love her, for you do not understand the pain of this."
"That I cannot, sir." Keene shifted in his chair. "I would wish that you and your wife would accompany me to my wedding."
"I am not going anywhere with her."
"Then come alone."
"I won't leave her in London with that man here too."
"Then I shall insist Victor come along, too."
"You just shot him. I heartily doubt he will dance at your wedding."
"If he agrees to accompany me, are you pledged to attend?"
George gave an abrupt laugh. "By all means."
SIX
So it was with the unfair advantage of knowing that Victor and he were on speaking terms that Keene pressed the bargain with George. Only the unfortunate circumstance of a rainstorm and a broken axle on the second coach resulted in the three of them pinned together in the confines of his carriage on the road to the Farthings' house.
Until now, Victor was the only one who required the use of the carriage, his shoulder not healed enough to ride a horse.
George pulled a flask from inside his coat. "I cannot conceive of how you thought this was a good idea."
From his corner, Victor quirked an eyebrow at Keene as if he wondered the same thing.
"George, do contrive to make sure you can stand through the ceremony."
"We should have stayed at the inn." George raised the flask.
"Just like old times," commented Victor facetiously.
Keene suspected it would never be like old times. Richard was dead. Amelia had slept with Victor and married George. He supposed if they followed their normal patterns, his turn with Amelia would be next, although they hadn't always shared women. Certainly, now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall George ever participating in the skirt-chasing they had done.
"We couldn't have stayed at the inn if I am to make my wedding."
"You do not seem terribly enthusiastic, else you should have planned to arrive a few days in advance."
Keene rubbed his forehead. "I am honoring my promise to her father. Besides, if we had not lost a day because of the problems with the other carriage we should not be so late."
Victor watched him. "I've never known you to be so concerned with a young woman's virtue."
"I am so. I never seduce unmarried gentlewomen."
"Now, where is the harm in seducing your future wife?" asked Victor.
"Perhaps we should talk of something else," suggested Keene.
Victor kicked the seat across from him. "Share the flask, George."
"I shall not share anything with you, sir."
"You already have. Give Keene some. He is in sore need of some Dutch courage."
"I am not," protested Keene.
"Was he always so stingy?" Victor asked of no one in particular.
George handed the flask to Keene. He took a swallow and absently passed it to Victor.
"I think I shall send her away."
"For heaven's sake, George. You cannot do that. You will ruin Amelia."
"She came to me ruined."
"Seemed in rather fine shape to me," commented Victor.
George lunged across the carriage, reaching for Victor's throat. For two days of traveling they had been spoiling for a fight. Keene was inclined to let them go at it. In the limited confines of the carriage a boot caught him in the shin. He grabbed the forgotten flask and stopped the spreading stain on the seat. He opened the carriage door and planted his boot in the nearest rear end and pushed.
The c
oach drew to a quick halt.
"Fine way to arrive at one's wedding," he muttered.
The two men rolled in the mud for a few seconds, until a completely sodden and soiled Victor broke away and climbed the steps of the carriage. "Damn, man, I was dry until now."
George stood outside in the streaming rain, his hands on his hips, his chest heaving. His lip bled.
"Is it necessary to keep needling him?"
Victor put his hand on his shoulder as he sat back down in the carriage. "He needs to get it out of his system instead of wallowing in his misery."
Victor kicked Keene in the other shin. "That is for fighting his fights for him. We all should have been better had you left well enough alone."
Keene took a long drink from the flask and handed it over. "Your servant, sir."
His bedraggled friends dripped mud over the seats of the carriage. The carriage he had meant to transport his new wife in tomorrow. Victor winced and clutched his shoulder. A black eye was forming above a scratch on his cheek. George's light brown hair was plastered to his head on one side, his cravat was askew and a button on his jacket hung by a thread.
"Tell the coachman to stop at the next inn that looks as if it might supply a bath, and get in the carriage, George."
He prayed he would make it to his wedding in time.
* * *
Sophie paced back and forth in her wedding gown. "Where is he?"
"He'll be here. He has probably been held up by the rain," her mother reassured her.
"What if he doesn't come?"
"He'll be here. His father is here, is he not?"
"What if he changed his mind?" What if she had so totally alienated him by biting him, he not only meant to call off the wedding, but to humiliate her by waiting until the she stood at the altar?
"Oh, miss, you know he'll be here," whispered Letty.
Sophie checked the window for about the thousandth time that morning. The door shut behind her, and she glanced around to see her father. "I suppose if he does not show up for the ceremony, Mr. Ponsby would step forward."
"If you wished to marry Ponsby, you should have accepted his offer." Her father's face appeared pinched and strained.
He must be worried, too. "Oh, Papa." She moved forward to hug her father. "I was teasing. I so very dislike waiting, and it is quite disagreeable of Keene to bring about a delay."
Her father absently patted her back. "I suppose we might have the ceremony tomorrow if necessary, but I don't know what we'll do with all the food Cook has prepared."
"We simply will have the wedding breakfast first and explain to the guests that the bridegroom has been unavoidably detained by the weather. Keene is a gentleman. He will be here as soon as he's able," Mrs. Farthing said with an air of confidence Sophie didn't trust.
She wasn't sure if she should inform her mother that she had bitten Keene, and that might very well have changed his attitude about whether or not she deserved to be treated as a lady.
"You don't understand," Mr. Farthing spoke in a low undertone. "I have it on good authority that Sir Gresham is now in London. Keene might have encountered him."
"Oh, pish," said Mrs. Farthing. "There is no shame in that he made Sophie an offer and was turned down. What of it?"
"Ma'am, he might have spoken of other carryings on."
Her parents were having the sort of conversation where she as their child was not privy to all the underlying meanings. Except her father watched her as if he expected her to understand. She felt obligated to comment. There was nothing that the baronet from Cornwall could say that would be a surprise to her bridegroom, who had, after all, seen her at her worst. "I daresay Keene knows me as well or better than Sir Gresham."
Her father blanched, and her mother grabbed his arm and hauled him out of the room.
She presumed her mother had saved her from a lecture or worse. Perhaps a bride deserved better than to be put on bread and water on her wedding day—perhaps her wedding day, if the groom showed up.
Sophie paced back to the window feeling every bit like a caged animal. She longed for a ride or a long walk.
* * *
Jane tugged her husband into their suite. "Please, do contrive to avoid upsetting Sophie." She turned her head and lowered her voice. "I hadn't wished to speak of it, but in her delicate condition she shouldn't be made anxious. She is worried enough that her groom is late."
"Oh, no." Daniel sat down with a hard thump. "You are sure of it?"
"Well, yes, she told me, but I beg you, don't speak of it to her. She would not have said anything, but she was afraid she needed a doctor. I assured her she is just going through the normal symptoms of her condition. Remember how I, too, would fall asleep in the evening."
Daniel wouldn't have felt more unsettled if a hole to China opened below his feet. "No."
"I told her she should wait and then speak to Keene about a doctor after she is settled with him. Although it is early yet. She will have plenty of time."
"I feared this," Daniel said with finality.
"Well, yes, but nothing can be done, and she is to be married, so I cannot see any need to speak of it. She is an impulsive, impatient creature, and I suppose Keene is the same."
Desperation clawed at Daniel's innards. What would Keene do if he knew his future wife was not only impure, but carrying another man's child? Cry off? Expect a larger dowry? It was bad enough to know that Sophie was not as she should be, but this was worse. He hadn't wanted to know. "In all honor, I should speak with him about this."
"We could warn him to have a care of her condition. But it can wait until tomorrow."
"I should speak with him before the ceremony."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Mr. Farthing, adding any further delays should be silly. I know it is a shock that we shall become grandparents so soon, but it is a good sign. As Keene is his father's only heir they will wish to know that the line will continue unbroken. Obviously Sophie will not have the difficulty conceiving that I had."
"Madam, a man should know his future wife is breeding."
"If you insist, but do wait until after the ceremony. We should have no further delays to the service."
Daniel supposed after the ceremony an annulment was possible, although he could offer Keene more money to keep Sophie as his wife. Other than that, he should insist his daughter marry the squire—if he would still have her. The whole affair made him sick, and he dreaded his talk with his future son-in-law. He wondered if he should make some reference to Joseph's trials with Mary, but since Sophie was in no wise carrying the savior, that idea seemed rather blasphemous.
* * *
Keene checked his watch as they turned into the Farthings' drive. He would have to remember to give John Coachman a hearty vail for his diligent work in driving the coach through the sheets of rain. Although time was short, he wanted to make sure his servant was treated to a warm mug of ale and a dry spot in front of the fire, before he proceeded to marry Sophie.
His friends were a different story. He was half tempted to toss them out of the carriage and leave them to flounder in the mud and muck. "Do endeavor to make sure you shall not pass out at my wedding, George."
At the inn where they had all changed and Keene had donned the clothes he had set aside for his wedding, George had given up on the flask and purchased three bottles of good French brandy. He and Victor were drinking as if they had a bet to see who could swallow an ocean first.
"Right-o. Are you sure you wish to do this? Nothing short of misery, marriage is." Well, the drink had improved George's mood. The tone was at least jovial if the message was not.
"You wouldn't have said that six months ago."
"I should have, if I had known then what I know now." George's words were slightly slurred. He looked puzzled, as if he wasn't quite sure what he had just said made complete sense.
Since he was coherent, whether or not he was conscious of it, Keene supposed he was presentable enough.
There was n
o hope for Victor's shiner. He had retreated to a corner and said little since the scuffle in the mud.
The Farthings' butler greeted the carriage with an umbrella. George slipped as he stepped off the carriage steps. Keene caught his arm to keep him from falling. It was only then that he realized the rain had turned to ice on the cobblestones of the drive. Lord, what a day for a wedding. An occasional sting told him the rain had begun to mix with sleet.
Huddling together under the umbrella, he steered George to the front door.
Victor trailed along behind them, his head turned down against the biting barrage of precipitation. He hugged his shoulders as if the cold were too much.
"The family and guests are assembled in the drawing room, sir. If you would follow me."
"My good man, please be sure my coachman is treated to a warm drink and a place in front of a fire."
He'd left two footmen at the inn with the instruction that he would pick them up the following day, weather permitting.
The butler paused outside the drawing room door, patiently looking at Keene. Belatedly Keene gave his friends' names and titles so they could be properly announced.
His father and an elderly aunt were there. A dozen people he did not know milled around the room with another dozen that looked vaguely familiar, people he had undoubtedly met in his myriad childhood stays at this house. Sophie's father frowned in his direction, while Cousin Jane gave a welcoming smile. His glance around the room did not turn up Sophie. Disappointment curled through him. Until he failed to find her, he wasn't aware he was looking for her. Of course she wouldn't be here.
Victor collapsed onto the nearest chair. Keene gave him a preoccupied glance. Victor looked pale, which made his shiner stand out all the more. George wobbled beside him.
"Where have you been, boy?" asked his father.
"On my way here." Keene thought of the broken axle, the rain and ice, his friends' fight. He turned from his father and headed toward Sophie's parents.
"My apologies for my late arrival."
"It's quite all right, Keene." Jane patted his sleeve. "We assumed the weather had delayed you. We've decided to serve the breakfast before we leave for the church."
"Perhaps we should postpone the service." The sheer terror on his future father-in-law's face distracted him. He'd meant to speak of the weather conditions. Instead, he said, "We should have waited until summer."
