Wedded in Scandal

by Jade Lee

  They took too long with the dressing. Despite rising in plenty of time, there were extra pearls to add to Gwen’s hair and a dash of oil to give her lips a special shine. There were shoes and wraps to set just right. And gloves, of course, to protect the bride’s most delicate hands. Helaine carried the veil, which they would add at the church.

  Then they rushed downstairs filled with giddy laughter, only to see Robert pacing the hallway in front of Dribbs. The butler was in his best looks, his uniform pressed to a knife’s crease, but he was nothing compared to Robert, who wore deepest black over crisp white linen. It had been Helaine’s suggestion that his cravat be white shot with gold to match his gold waistcoat. And it was punctuated by a solitary pink diamond. Helaine had never seen its like before, but Gwen had told her it was a family gemstone worn by every earl at his wedding.

  “There you are!” he said. “Helaine, I must ask—”

  “Robert! Look at your hair!” cried Gwen. “It looks like you’ve been tugging it out by the roots!”

  Robert looked over at his sister and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You, brother dear!” Gwen said with a laugh. Then she sent a maid rushing back upstairs for her brush.

  “But we haven’t time!” he huffed.

  “There is time for you to be in your best looks at my wedding!”

  The maid came downstairs with a brush, which Gwen plied, to Robert’s mortification and Dribbs’s amusement. Then, before Gwen was finished, Robert grabbed the brush and waved it at Helaine. “Please, could I—”

  “Oh, Gwenie! You look like a vision!” That was Gwen and Robert’s mother, descending the stairs in a gown of pale blue. It matched her watery eyes and gave her a joyous look that—thankfully—seemed to match her spirits today.

  “Mama! You are beautiful!”

  As the two women embraced, Robert stepped to Helaine, touching her arm as he tried to get her attention. “Please, Helaine. I beg of you—”

  “My lord, my lady. The carriage awaits,” Dribbs intoned as he threw open the door. And indeed, there was the earl’s carriage waiting at the base of the walk, cleaned to a gleaming shine. The servants lined the walkway, all there to give Gwen their well-wishes as she all but danced down the path. A moment later a hackney appeared and Gwen’s father, the Earl of Willington, descended. The youngest son Jack was with him, and both had dressed in their finest.

  There would have been more hugs and talking but at that very moment, Edward’s mother came running out of their home. “Go! Go! Edward is almost to the door. He cannot see you!”

  It was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, and so everyone bustled Gwen into the carriage. Her parents and Jack followed next, with Robert lingering, one foot on the step while his eyes sought Helaine’s. He started to open his mouth but she shook her head.

  “Go! Edward is almost here!” she urged him, pointing to where both mother and aunt were physically blocking the doorway until Gwen could leave.

  “At the church, then,” he said as he ducked into the carriage.

  “Of course!” she returned, holding up the veil. She was to follow in another carriage, along with Dribbs and two other special family retainers who were allowed to attend. She followed Dribbs’s direction and was soon ensconced in another carriage, which followed the family in the slow, ponderous pace that befitted a lady’s wedding. The carriage had barely stopped at the cathedral when its door was opened by none other than Robert himself.

  “Robert!” Helaine cried. “Whatever are you doing?”

  “It is imperative—”

  “That you go inside and make sure everything is set to rights. Go! I need to help with her veil.” To everyone’s horror, Edward’s carriage was arriving as well and they were still standing about like gawking urchins.

  “Helaine—”

  “Go!” She shoved Robert away and then dashed up the stairs after Gwen. Really, she would have to take that man to task for being such an idiot at his sister’s wedding. But that would have to wait until later. Right now, Gwen needed her veil.

  All was accomplished with much giggles and excited talk. Gwen’s two attendants were there before them, chattering in the excited voices of best girlfriends. Connie joined them as soon as the groom’s carriage stopped and she ran with all the joy of a girl thrilled to be gaining a new sister. Helaine faded into the background. In truth, she should not be here at all, but she could not resist watching Gwen’s happiness. It was a joy she would never have, and so she wanted to soak up as much as she could. But in the end, she had to leave. She pressed a kiss to Gwen’s cheek and shared another tight hug. Then she rushed away to find a seat at the back of the cathedral.

  It took her a bit, but she found her own family also hiding in the back. Wendy would not miss a wedding when the bride was wearing a gown stitched by her hand. Penny, too, was there with Tommy. And Helaine’s mother rounded out the foursome, a ribbon in one hand for Tommy to play with and a kerchief in her other hand. Her mama liked to cry at weddings.

  Helaine took her seat beside her mother, and then they watched with held breath as ushers seated the family members. Weddings were usually private family affairs, but this was the wedding of Lady Gwen, the daughter of the Earl of Willington. For many it marked the official opening of the Season, and people had been vying for months to get invitations. Those select few came now, dressed in finery better suited to a ballroom, but gorgeous nonetheless.

  And then the event began.

  Gwen was radiant, and Edward was grinning. It looked as if he couldn’t believe his luck to be joined with his lady love. Robert stood as his best man, tall and proud. He could not have looked more handsome, and Helaine fell more deeply in love with him.

  The priest was no less a person than the Archbishop of Canterbury. The service proceeded as was expected with Edward and Gwen speaking their vows in voices that carried to the back of the cathedral. It was clear to all that there was no doubt in their minds. The two were desperately in love. Helaine had to reach for her own handkerchief at that moment. Before long, they were pronounced man and wife. The organ music swelled, Edward kissed Gwen soundly, and the two were wed.

  Then everything took a very bizarre turn.

  It was time for the bride and groom to leave the cathedral together. Edward had his wife’s hand and a look of utter joy on his face. But he did not actually take his bride down the aisle. Instead, he leaned in close and whispered something to her. She gasped in shock, putting her hand to her mouth as her gaze hopped to her brother, who gave her a rather sheepish shrug. She squealed in delight and stepped to the side, pulling Edward with her.

  It was Robert who then stepped to the center to address the congregation.

  “Friends and family, I am afraid this is rather awkward. Or at least it is for me. But a man will do quite a few very awkward things for love. And I am definitely such a man. A man in love.”

  His gaze then flowed across everyone there to land right on Helaine. Whatever could he be doing? Announcing this in front of everyone? Meanwhile, he was coming down the aisle, talking as he moved.

  “If everyone could please bear with me a moment. There is something I have been trying to ask for a very long time now. But the stubborn woman has been difficult indeed.”

  He made it to her side and held out his hand. Helaine just stared at him, her mind numb with shock. It took her mother poking her in the ribs before she moved.

  “Stand up!” the woman hissed. “Stand up!”

  Helaine did, her eyes wide, her body stiff. And then she released a squeak of shock as Robert dropped down to one knee before her. Then he took her hand and gazed up into her eyes.

  “I love you, my dear. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and say you will marry me?”

  Helaine gaped at him. He could not be serious. No one married their mistress! Then, before she could frame any words, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and pressed it into her hands.

  “It is a s
pecial license. We can be married right now by the archbishop himself. Look at it.”

  She did as he bade, slowly unfolding the parchment. There in bold black letters was a special license allowing Robert with all his names and titles to marry one Lady Helaine, daughter of the Earl of Chelmorton. It was her name. Her real name.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered.

  “I want to marry you,” Robert said firmly. “The bishop will only name you Helen Mortimer,” he said in an undertone, “but I will allow no legalities to negate our vows.”

  Helaine stared at him, her hands trembling where they gripped the paper. “But…but, Robert.” She swallowed and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “There is no baby. There is no need—”

  He took her face in his hands, turning her so that she could look directly in his eyes as he spoke. “There is every need for me to marry the woman I love. I love you. And I want desperately to marry you.”

  Her heart melted. Indeed, it had fallen for him a long, long time ago. “I have loved you forever,” she said.

  “Tsk!” snapped Wendy from the seat beside her mother. “Then say yes and let him get off his knees!”

  Helaine laughed and nodded, her heart in her throat. “Yes, Robert. Yes, I will marry you.”

  Her family erupted into cheers. There were likely other comments as well, whispers and confusion, but Helaine didn’t hear them. She was too busy kissing Robert. And then he was pulling her forward down the aisle, back to the front of the church. It took her a moment to realize that he meant to marry her this very second.

  She stumbled slightly as she looked at the grinning bishop. “What? You mean right now?”

  “It is the best way,” Robert whispered into her ear. “Quickly, before anyone can look too deeply into your past. I don’t care, Helaine. Understand that. I don’t care, and your identity will come out eventually. But it is best to establish you as Lady Redhill first. There will be scandal either way, but this will minimize it.”

  She swallowed, understanding the logic behind his decision. But this was Gwen and Edward’s day. She didn’t want to intrude. “Surely we can’t,” she began, but Edward just shook his head.

  “You can. In fact, it was my idea.”

  “Not the wedding,” Robert hastily added. “Just the timing of it.”

  Helaine looked to Gwen. “You don’t mind?”

  “Mind?” Gwen gasped. “I get a husband and another sister on the very same day! I am thrilled!”

  And so it was done. Robert took her hand and led her to the altar, where they knelt before the Archbishop of Canterbury. They spoke their vows and Robert slid a pink diamond onto her finger, one that perfectly matched the gem in his cravat.

  “You are mine now,” he said after he had kissed her silly right there in front of everyone. “Nothing can take you from my side ever.”

  “Nothing,” she agreed. Because why would she ever want to leave?

  “I love you,” he said. And she laughed because she had said the exact same words at the exact same moment.

  In the back of the church where Wendy misted up and Helaine’s mother openly cried, Penny hugged her brother tight and whispered into his curls.

  “That’s love, Tommy. Real love the way it should be. And someday, if we’re very lucky, we’ll have it, too.” She didn’t really believe it would happen, but she wanted to pretend. And more than anything, she wanted it to be true for Tommy. So she said the words and clutched her brother tight.

  Having no words, Tommy didn’t answer except to gurgle happily and leave a sloppy wet kiss on his sister’s cheek.

  Turn the page for a special preview of

  Jade Lee’s next Bridal Favors novel

  Wedded in Sin

  Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!

  Samuel Morrison’s mind was racing, but that was not unusual. His mind was always racing. Even on this most beautiful morning as he strolled down Bond Street at the height of a shopping day. His thoughts wandered to Lady Pierson, who had just slipped a note to the flushed and very young Mr. Cooper. Then it hopped to Lord Simpleton, er, Simpson, who appeared to have left his home without his hat. Or a clean shirt. Ah, that was because he was coming from the brothel, Samuel realized, mainly from the unmistakable scent of smoke and perfume that trailed in the man’s wake. And from the man’s smile. Obviously, poor Lord Simpson was arrears in his funds, because he was walking down this side stretch of Bond Street rather than hailing a cab from Nightingale Street.

  His mind wandered on, noting everything from the style of one person’s clothing to the rubbish on the street. Samuel did his best to ignore his thoughts. It was really the only way to survive without complete lunacy, but his mind kept chattering away, this time about the dark-haired boy with the bad cough who was trying to get up the nerve to pick someone’s pocket. About four yards away, a gypsy woman was watching closely, most likely as the boy’s instructor. Not mother and son, he realized, because of the different facial features. More likely from the same gypsy family, though, because of a certain twist of the head. An aunt, he guessed.

  Following their gazes, Samuel realized their victim was likely to be Lord Histlewight, who had obviously just returned from Northampton because his shoes were new. The fine stitching of his footwear proclaimed them as Northampton made. Unlike Samuel’s own; his feet had lately begun to throb from his very cheap and poorly made shoes.

  With a sudden veer, Samuel decided to turn left rather than suffer the moral choice of preventing a pickpocketing crime or keeping a silent witness. Normally he would have warned the child off, but the boy was thin and ill and would probably make better use of the coin than Histlewight ever would.

  But a moment later, Samuel spun on his heel and turned back. His sense of justice prevented him from allowing any crime, even against an ass like Histlewight, to go unchecked. He made it to the street barely two feet ahead of the boy. Quick as he could, he grabbed the child’s arm and hauled him up. It was pitifully easy. The boy was stick thin and too frightened even to scream, so Samuel had ample time to speak harshly into his ear.

  “No thieving today, my boy. There’s a butcher shop seven blocks that way.” He jerked his head in the right direction. “Talk smart and polite to Mr. Braun, and compliment his smoked bacon. He’s extraordinarily vain about his pork. The man’s looking for a new apprentice, as the last one ran off. No matter what your aunt says, thieving leads to the gallows or worse. Not every man is blind or stupid. Someone always sees.”

  He held the child a moment longer. The boy was shaking in terror, but Samuel didn’t release him until he had caught the aunt’s eye a block away. The boy was too young to know better, but the older one would see that Samuel would not be crossed on this. It was a lie, of course. They could move their business two blocks over and he would not be there to prevent it. But perhaps it was an illusion that would hold. Perhaps the woman would make the right choice, apprentice the boy to the butcher, and turn from their life of thieving.

  So he held the woman’s dark gaze and whispered a quiet prayer on the child’s behalf. And then he let the boy go. The kid dashed away on wobbly legs, catching up to his aunt before tugging the woman away down toward the butcher. Perhaps he had done a good deed, he thought, though he doubted the lesson would stick. Gypsies, as a rule, did not like to be tied to regular jobs or regular homes.

  Meanwhile, his mind had tired of the gypsies and wandered off to notice other things. Mrs. Worthington had lost some weight. She had a new charge this season—two girls fresh from the nursery. One was pretty, the other canny. He gleaned that in an instant from their clothing, the way they moved, and the way the canny one kept her head down but her eyes always roving. Her gaze stopped on him and she flashed him a flirtatious smile, but he was already turning away down a side street to avoid having to chatter with the females. Meanwhile, he noticed that the meat pie cart had a weak spoke on its left side wheel. And perhaps he ought to check his own pocket to be sure it hadn’t been picked while h
e was about his good deed.

  He shoved his hand into his pocket and was relieved to feel that his few meager coins were safe. He had enough to last him until quarter day, but not much beyond that. Perhaps he ought to avail himself of his own advice, he thought. Find a regular job, focus on a regular task as so many younger sons were forced to do.

  Then the most extraordinary thing happened. His mind noticed one thing more before falling absolutely silent. It was a woman with a too thin build and above average looks. She was carrying a child and a satchel while being bodily evicted from a shoemaker’s shop. No one else noticed what he saw, though there were a dozen people watching the spectacle. She was arguing, the child was crying, and none of the constabulary appeared to care despite her large gestures and vehement protests. Only he saw that all her noise was for show, covering the fact that she had just tossed a small bag at a pile of rubbish.

  It was a poorly tied bag with thin seams. As it landed, to wedge between the brick wall and leather scraps, the stitching burst and something distinctive tumbled out. Something that silenced the noise in his head and left his thoughts utterly speechless.

  She’d just discarded Lord Winston’s left foot.

  Penny Shoemaker was furious. And not the kind of fury that made tears burn in her eyes. This anger was like a living thing under her skin that drove her to madness. If someone gave her a knife right then, she would have easily sunk it hilt deep in the constable’s throat. A tiny part of her was horrified by that, but it was only a tiny part lost beneath the weight of anger fueled by humiliation.

  She was being thrown out of her home. While she’d been quietly feeding Tommy a celebratory breakfast of bread and real eggs, armed men had banged on her door. She’d picked up her nine-month-old brother and answered the door. She’d been told in round flat tones that she was no longer owner of their home. That everything they owned—from the tools in the shoe store on the first floor to the clothes in their home right above—had been sold to that bastard Cordwain, a small-time hack of a shoemaker.