by Rose Gordon
He hated the bitter taste that word put in his mouth, but it didn't change the truth of it. Amelia was no longer the simpering miss she'd once been around him, talking of love and marriage to him. Instead, she seemed guarded around him and spoke as if those sorts of feelings no longer existed.
“Nobody has to know he jilted you,” he said, reaching forward to push the hair sweeping across her forehead behind her ear.
She shook her head; her grey eyes shining with unshed tears. “They already do.”
“No,” he corrected. “All they know for sure is a wedding is not currently taking place. What they don't know is if it was the groom who jilted the bride or the bride who jilted the groom.”
Amelia eyed him curiously. “No, I'm fairly certain they all know it was the groom who jilted the bride. My mother and father are both out there.”
“Yes, and they are doing a wonderful job acting as if they're waiting for their daughter's wedding to take place.”
“Acting?” she said, her eyes narrowing in on him.
“Acting,” he confirmed. “See, your mother is sitting in her pew, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief while your father is pacing a hole in the wooden platform just outside the front door of the church. Both are playing their roles perfectly, giving off the illusion to the rest of the guests that they are just waiting for the wedding to begin any moment.”
“Which seems to be less likely to happen as the minutes pass.”
“Exactly,” Elijah agreed. “Which is why you need to act now before someone discovers your game.”
“My game?”
He nodded once. “Yes, madam, your game.” He picked up her petite hand and wrapped his fingers around it. “I'm not as dimwitted as the rest of them. I see what's really going on here.”
“At least you do, because I have no idea what you're talking about.”
He ignored her. “I almost fell for it, too.”
“Fell for what?” she burst out in hysteria, presumably due to her current situation, lacing her voice.
“You're jilting your groom,” he said evenly, meeting her eyes.
A shadow crossed her face and she cleared her throat. Twice. “What are you suggesting?”
“I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just merely making mention of the fact that the wedding has yet to begin, and both the bride and the groom have yet to be seen. How does a guest such as myself truly know whether it was the bride or the groom who didn't come today? How do I—a random guest—know that the bride and groom were not so in love with the other they could hardly wait another day and decided to elope?”
She snorted.
“All right, well, perhaps that scenario isn't very believable, but the other very well could be possible.” He took a deep breath. “Amelia, listen to me, I know you're a very strong young lady and you come from a very important family; but none of that will matter come tomorrow when this is all over the scandal sheets.”
“I know,” she said with a swallow.
“Then see the sense in what I'm saying and marry me.”
***
Amelia's jaw would have hit the end table next to the settee had she had the mouth of an ostrich. Elijah Banks was offering her marriage as a way to escape a scandal?
“Elijah, you don't have to do this.”
He laughed at her weak protest. “I know I don't have to. I want to.”
“Why? To make amends for dumping a bucket of cold water on me after I told your father that you wouldn't let me ride your mare?”
“No, nor is it because I feel bad about volunteering you to sing during the reception at Edwina's wedding.”
“I knew it was you, you scoundrel!” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
He grinned at her outburst. “What do you say, Amelia? Will you be my wife?”
Had his question been asked because he loved her, she'd have dissolved into a watering pot on the spot. But it wasn't. Well, perhaps it was, but not love born of a romantic feeling; but rather that of a friend. A pang of sadness pierced her heart. Elijah was the only gentleman she'd ever wanted to marry. Since she was a young girl running around his parents' estate when spending summers with her aunt and uncle, she'd fancied herself in love with Elijah. He was the reason she'd turned away any gentlemen who wished to court her, hoping one day he'd see her as more than a friend. How unfortunate he never saw fit to feel the same for her.
She bit her lip. Hard. She needed to put that thought out of her mind immediately. If she let emotions get in the way and didn't take him up on his offer, she'd forever face a life of shame. But what of her other problem? The one that made this hasty marriage necessary. It had only been two weeks and she still didn't know whether she carried a life inside of her yet. A lump formed in her throat. “I can't.”
“Can't what?”
Amelia blinked back her tears. “Elijah, I cannot marry you and condemn you to—”
“Nonsense,” he cut in. “Amelia, if I didn't want to be here right now, I wouldn't be. You know that. No amount of goading and threatening can make me do something I don't want to do. I want to help you. You're my friend.”
She inwardly flinched at his confirmation: she was just a friend. She knew that of course, he'd told her for years he was only her friend and had even gone so far as to help her find another gentleman to give her attentions to. Gently, of course. He'd never been cruel about her feelings or dismissive of her as a person, just the sincerity of a young girl's feelings. But try as she might, she couldn't fall out of love as easily as she'd fallen in. Only now, she didn't dare let him or anyone know the truth. He wanted to be her friend and that'd have to be good enough. “But what if I have a secret?” she challenged.
He pulled a face that reminded her of his late father. “It's not that you're genuinely in love with Lord Friar, is it?”
“Most certainly not! It has nothing to do with him.” At least it had better not. She'd still yet to determine the identity of the masked stranger, and for all she knew it could have been Lord Friar. Her stomach lurched at the wretched thought. “It's something else.”
Elijah's gloved fingers tilted her face up toward his. “As long as it's not that, I don't care what it is. Now, what do you say?”
A lead weight lowered on her chest. He might say he didn't care about her secret, but how would he feel in nine months when she presented him with a child that wasn't his? Or even sooner when he went to take her innocence only to discover it was already gone?
His deep sigh pulled her from her thoughts. “You'd be doing me a favor, wouldn't you know?”
How could she be doing him a favor? “How so?”
“Now that Weenie and Alex have both married, Mother has nobody to play matchmaker for except me and Henry, and if I'm married...that only leaves Henry.”
Amelia nearly laughed. “Your mother doesn't play matchmaker, Elijah.” She played the role of confidant and voice of sanity to perfection, but never once had Amelia caught Regina Banks, the dowager baroness, playing matchmaker.
“Just because she hasn't yet, doesn't mean she doesn't intend to,” Elijah pointed out. “She and my Aunt Carolina have been spending a lot of time together recently. And there is nothing that can stop that woman when she takes a notion into her mind. So what do you say? Will you spare me the unpleasant fate that would befall me otherwise?”
“All right, but only if you promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“No matter what happens, you won't regret this?”
Elijah grinned and shook his head. “I accept your condition. Now we just have to sneak you out of here.” He walked over to a window and opened it just far enough to poke his head out. “Perfect.” He pushed open the window as far as it would go and motioned for her to come over. “All right, I'll climb out first and then help pull you through.”
She cast him a tentative glance. “Is that really necessary?”
He stared at her as if she'd just asked the stupidest question ever. “Do you know anoth
er way to get out of here without being seen?”
“No.” But that still didn't mean she wanted to climb out a window.
“Don't worry, Amelia. I'll be right there to help you.”
“Wonderful,” she muttered as he threw his left leg over the window sill, then his right.
He jumped down and took a step back. “All right, Amelia, let's see those superb leaping skills you used to boast about having.”
Had she a heavy object at her disposal—and not been in the middle of escaping what was sure to be the scandal of the season—she'd have brained him right then and there. With as much grace as her heavy satin gown would allow, she made her way to the window, pulled her skirt up as far as she could, and then threw one stocking-clad leg over the windowsill.
And that's as far as she got.
Between the heavy skirts and the voluminous petticoats underneath them, she couldn't move.
“Elijah, help me. I think my skirt is stuck.”
He grinned at her.
“Elijah, why are you just standing there?”
“Just admiring the view,” he said with a wink.
“Elijah!” She gave her dress a hearty yank, but it would seem her iron hoop stays were too wide to go through the window. “You can gawk all you want later. Just help me out.”
“Promises, promises,” he muttered, coming up to her.
If she honestly thought he was genuinely interested in seeing her naked body, she'd be flattered by his staring and excited by his statement. But she knew better. He was just enjoying the fact she was stuck in the window!
He walked over toward her and reached his hands up inside her skirt to find the ties that would release her stays. The bare skin of her thighs burned at the feeling of his gloved hands brushing them.
“Just cut them,” she blurted.
“Are you sure?”
She'd never been more sure of anything in her life. “Yes. I have no idea why my mother insisted I wear these hoops anyway, they're nearly twenty years past fashion.”
“All right, I'll cut them. Step back into the room and lift your skirt.”
“How charming,” she said under her breath.
“I try,” he said with a smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his penknife. “Ready?”
She nodded as nervous excitement coursed through her. It was bad enough she'd been jilted today. It'd be even more awkward if someone were to enter the room at this very moment and see her holding her heavy skirts up so Elijah Banks could reach in through the window and cut her stays away. If her bridegroom not showing up wasn't enough to make her a laughingstock already, this particular situation would get her name whispered behind fans for generations.
The sharp sound of cloth—not just any cloth, but the cloth under her gown—being torn sent chills up her spine. Chills of excitement or danger or uncertainty, she might never really know.
“Turn,” Elijah commanded.
She turned and he continued cutting the fabric until suddenly the sound of fabric-covered metal hitting the wooden floor floated to her ears.
Elijah put his knife away and then reached up toward her. “Let's go.”
Without hesitation, she leaned out the window, wrapped her arms around Elijah's neck and let him pull her out of the church and away from the public shame and embarrassment she'd be condemned to as a jilted bride.
Chapter Four
Blood thundered in Elijah's ears. How far would they get before Elijah's absence was remarked on and the bride was found missing? They'd never make it to Gretna Green without being discovered. It was too far, and with only Elijah's horse, they didn't have a chance of arriving there anyway.
He'd be sure to send up a prayer of thanksgiving tonight that she'd been so easy to convince. But then again, she hadn't really had much of a choice because if she'd been her stubborn self and refused his offer, she'd have ended up a pariah for the rest of her life.
He twisted his lips. Thinking of it that way, her acceptance wasn't nearly as flattering as he'd like to pretend.
But that didn't matter. His offer had already been made, she'd accepted it and now they'd just have to ride three hours east to the Archbishop of Canterbury's residence, the only man close enough to issue a special license and marry them tonight.
“He's not home. He's visiting his nephew in Dover,” the archbishop's purse-lipped butler intoned when Elijah and Amelia arrived on his doorstep.
Elijah graciously thanked the man and tried his best to reassure Amelia everything would be all right as he helped her back onto his horse.
Blessedly, Elijah had attended school with the bishop's nephew, Lord Templemore, and was counting on that very old and thin connection to help him gain an audience with the archbishop while he was visiting his relations. It might also secure the man's approval for a special license, he thought as he directed his horse down the lane. And if that didn't work, he'd tell the bishop there was a possibility she was increasing.
Chancing the occasional glance over his shoulder, he rode on. It would likely be nightfall before they reached where the bishop was staying. No matter. Just as long as they reached him before anyone found them, everything would be fine.
Three and a half hours and one horrible case of muscle cramps later, they arrived at Templemore's residence, where the archbishop was staying.
“Banks,” Templemore greeted, coming into his study.
Elijah nodded. Templemore had attended Eton with Elijah and Henry. Templemore stood at least six feet tall with black hair and green eyes and was of exceptional intelligence. The young ladies swarmed to him in his first Season, but he hated the attention and chose to keep to himself, doing God only knows what in his townhouse. So it was to Elijah's surprise that when he returned home a few months ago he learned that Templemore had actually married last year, but it was not so surprising to find he was now spending the first part of the Season still in the country. “This might seem an odd request, but is your uncle in residence?”
“Of course,” he said automatically, craning his neck around to get a good look at Amelia. “He's in the library right now—praying.”
Elijah and Amelia exchanged looks. “Do you think he'll be finished shortly?” Elijah inquired.
“I suppose,” Templemore said with a shrug.
If Elijah wasn't so tired from riding a horse all day, he just might strangle the man. Templemore had always been insolent, rivaling only Henry with his trite answers and infuriating quips. “Do you suppose you could go fetch him?”
“I suppose,” Templemore said. “But do you suppose you might introduce me to your companion first?”
Elijah flushed. “Of course. Amelia, this is my friend Caleb Law, Earl of Templemore. And, this is Lady Amelia Brice, soon-to-be Mrs. Elijah Banks, I hope.”
“I see,” Templemore said, drawing out the words.
Just then, a dark-haired, lady joined them in the drawing room. “Oh, excuse me; I didn't realize you had company,” she murmured to Templemore.
“Anne, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Elijah Banks and his...er...intended, Lady Amelia Brice.” Templemore pulled the woman closer to him. “Elijah, Lady Amelia, this is my wife, Anne, Lady Templemore.”
“It's nice to make your acquaintance,” Elijah said automatically. Surely, Amelia said something to her, too, but Elijah didn't hear her. He was still in shock that Templemore had found someone who could actually tolerate him well enough to marry him.
“Thank you.” Amelia's voice floated to his ears and he shot her a questioning look. “He's sending the butler to find the archbishop.”
“Very good. You two don't mind being witnesses do you?”
“Do we have a choice?” Templemore asked.
“No. Not really.”
“Well then, we'd be honored,” Templemore said dryly.
A few minutes later the Archbishop of Canterbury lumbered into the room. “I understand my presence has been requested.”
“Yes, sir,” Elijah ru
shed to say before Templemore could say anything that might dissuade the old codger from performing the ceremony. “Lady Amelia and I would like for you to marry us. Now.”
The older man pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side. “I'd be honored to perform the ceremony, but this is hardly the time or place, son.”
“Is it not?” Elijah challenged. He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose you're right. Come along, sweet. We'd better start for Gretna Green now if we'd like to arrive in the next fortnight. Lady Templemore, do you happen to like Lady Amelia's gown? I think it's far too extravagant for her to ride across the country in while sharing a horse with her groom-to-be.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “Not to mention it might be too heavy for her to wear at night and she—”
“That is enough, young man,” the archbishop snapped. He ran a hand over his wrinkled face. “Your point has been received. The wedding shall take place tonight.”
“Excellent,” Elijah said, beaming at his bride, who looked too travel weary to counter the not-so-flattering insinuation he'd made to the archbishop.
A few minutes later, the ceremony had begun.
Despite her ripped and dusty gown and wind whipped hair, Amelia made a beautiful bride. He squeezed her hands. She looked just as ragged as he felt. They'd both sleep very well tonight. Which was a good thing considering all the gossip they'd have to start fending off in the next few days.
“Elijah,” Templemore all but shouted.
Elijah started. “Yes?”
“You may now kiss your bride,” the archbishop said for what Elijah was certain wasn't the first time.
