by Katy Madison
“I suppose that is very wise, but it is poor comfort to one who always has failures. I find I am very good at winning only when it is the worst possible thing for all involved.”
Then she’d launched into the latest description of her newest clothing choices. He’d breathed a sigh of relief that his awkward answer about the depth of his feelings for her had been given little notice. He knew too well he’d dodged a cannon ball. Not too many times in life did a man get away with less than a fervent vow of passionate love for the woman he meant to marry.
Suzanna must have a deep practical streak under that frivolous exterior to let him get away with that lukewarm declaration.
He should have pulled the gig to the side of the road and given her a kiss or two, but the plan struck him more as duty than desire and perhaps not the wisest course given that he had just told her he didn’t love her yet.
Did he expect this morning’s ceremony to alter his emotion? And since when did bills get delivered on Saturday morning?
Mary ran through the house with a growing sense of dread. She’d checked the front parlor, the back parlor, all the bedrooms, and the attic. She’d even checked the vegetable garden as if Suzanna might have suddenly taken an interest in how the carrots grew.
Last night on the eve of the monster wedding, Suzanna’s trunks had been in the front entry hall. Mary remembered seeing her tie on her bonnet and breeze out the door, saying, “Don’t wait up for me. John has promised to take me for a drive after we unpack my trunks.”
Had Suzanna even returned home? That was it; she must have spent the night with her future husband. It was dreadfully depraved, and utterly immoral but not unheard of. Couples had been known to get a little ahead of themselves. They had been on several unchaperoned excursions lately, which was acceptable because they were engaged, after all.
Aunt Lydia had lived with her future husband for several weeks before he made an honest woman of her. As long as no one outside of family realized that her sister and Sterling had gotten a little frisky before they should have, no harm was done.
Mary sat down on the steps fighting nausea. In her dreadful anxiety of not being able to find her sister, hope had reared its ugly gargoyle head. She shook herself. No one besides her and the wayward couple needed to know anything untoward had happened if she fetched Suzanna home this instant.
She grabbed her hat and shoved it on her head. She was halfway out the door, when her father called out, “Where are you off to, Mary? Shouldn’t you be supervising your sister’s preparations?”
“I just have to check one last thing at the church, and when I get back I’ll help Suzanna dress.”
She walked as fast as she could to Sterling’s house and pounded on the front door. She was still holding her hat on her head with one hand when he opened the door with the lovely stained glass panels.
Thank goodness he was fully dressed this time. She didn’t know if she could have withstood the sight of him half undressed knowing that her sister was in there with him. “Where is she? I have to get her home right away to get into her gown. If we hurry, no one will know she didn’t come home last night.”
Sterling pulled the door all the way open revealing the carpet Mary had picked out, and a lovely little side table with a jade and black ginger jar under a gilt framed mirror. “You’d better come in.”
She didn’t want to go in. She didn’t want to see her sister in a stage of undress.
“No. Just tell her to come out when she’s ready. And for God’s sake tell her to hurry.”
Sterling reached out and grabbed her upraised arm and tugged her across the threshold. “She’s not here.”
He shut the door behind her, turned around and folded his arms across his chest.
“The Cinderella carriage with the two white horses to draw it that I had to hire matched horses all the way from New York is coming to pick her up in less than an hour. I need to find her.”
“You’ve got a long swim then.”
All the world came to a stop. “What?”
“Suzanna’s gone to London, and we won’t be getting married after all.” Sterling waved an envelope in her face. “She left this for you.”
Mary didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or both, so she did nothing standing there staring at Sterling with her hand firmly holding on her hat, that wouldn’t blow away now.
“Here, sit down.” He pushed her back into one of two chairs flanking the rosewood table.
All her plans, and work, the pink roses Suzanna insisted upon, the towering, tiered cake with sugar bells, the candles that were no doubt being lit as they spoke. That and everyone who was anyone in Boston was invited to this wedding. Her father’s reputation would suffer. Sterling’s reputation would suffer.
Oh, my goodness, poor Sterling. How devastating to be left at the alter. She couldn’t let her flighty sister wound this man. Even if it should kill her, she wouldn’t allow her sister to destroy his dreams.
“But, the marriage can’t be called off. It’s too late. We have to find Suzanna. Her ship won’t have left yet, or one of my father’s ships can fetch her back.”
“Let her go. Even if we could catch her, I’d rather not bring her back and force her to marry me.”
“Oh!” Mary stared at him. “I see.” She felt tears burning the back of her lids. He was too kind and too considerate.
“Read your letter.”
“Yes, of course.” She eyed the envelope with her name on it as if Suzanna’s large curly script might bite her. Slowly opening the envelope she tried to read. Phrases kept jumping out at her: wants an alliance with out family...has no great affection for me... not ready for the responsibility of running my own household, let alone children, but Mary couldn’t string all of the written sentences together to make sense. A horrid thought kept circling in her head. A horrid, awful, magnificent idea kept intruding.
Sterling paced back and forth in the entry hall, heaping on a distraction she couldn’t ignore. He looked wonderful in his tails, but then he’d look wonderful in a flannel shirt and jean pants.
He paused his back to her. “It’s a shame to let all your hard work go for naught.”
She let the words fall out of her mouth before good sense and rational thought stopped her. “Perhaps you could marry me instead.”
Chapter 5
Sterling was probably too rough when he pushed Mary down into the chair. He took the hat that she acted determined to hold on her head. She must not be thinking straight. She was a fixer, a peacemaker; she probably had not thoroughly considered her far-too-tempting offer.
He knew that it was all wrong. To have one sister throw him over and the other pick him up just in time for an already scheduled wedding.
“Would it bother you that much to see all your preparations go to waste?”
She made a sound between a squeak and a moan.
He turned and crouched before her chair. “Mary, your offer is most generous, but I cannot think that you are doing this because it is what you want. Are you again trying to fix everything for everyone else?”
She averted her head and wadded her sister’s letter in her curled fingers. “I am so sorry. I didn’t want you hurt or embarrassed.”
“I’ve survived much worse things in my life.” Actually, he was not nearly as hurt by his intended’s defection as he should be. He was relieved.
“I know I am not as pretty as Suzanna, but the invitations went out without a name. A few people would be surprised, but I should imagine they would keep their own council.”
He wrapped her clenched fists in his own hands. Since she was prettier than her sister, he dismissed her objections as meaningless. “But Mary, what do you want?”
She looked at him then, her brown eyes dark pools in her pale face. Her hands trembled. “My wants are simple. I’ve told you before.”
She snatched her hands out of his grasp and ducked around him, moving in a walk-run toward the front door. “I will post a notice on the
church door. The guests will arrive soon, and I have to tell my father. I am so sorry this has turned out so badly.”
He reached around her and held the door. “Mary, wait. We aren’t done discussing this.”
“We don’t have time to talk about it. I understand. I shall make it clear that my sister is the one who has fled for no good reason.”
He reached for her waist and slid his arms around her. He’d wanted to hold her like this since the first moment she’d opened the door to him. With her back to him, she stiffened. He released her. “Can you fit in Suzanna’s wedding gown?”
“No!”
His heart thumped irregularly. Did she already think better of her offer?
He took a deep breath. “I would be honored if you would marry me, but you deserve better than this hurry scurry, last minute substitution for your sister.” Hell, she deserved to be asked, to be courted, to be assured of his affection.
“I’ll be fine. I have a dress I can wear, unless you’d rather not.” She reached for the doorknob again.
“I’d much rather marry you.”
“Then I have to get ready.” She fled out the door as if the hounds of hell were on her heels.
There was so much he should have said, but suddenly everything felt surreal. He should have offered to inform her father. He should have reassured her that she was the sister he wanted to marry. He should have told her he was more than half in love with her.
Although after the way she reacted when he reached out to hold her, that should more likely frighten and confuse her. She was so constant in her emotions and deeds, the seemingly abrupt transfer of his affection from her sister to her would strike her wrong. She would think him as changeable as the tides. When in truth he had known for a long time he had asked the wrong sister to marry him. But he gone to considerable lengths to keep that knowledge to himself.
He yanked his fingers through his hair.
Mary flew into the house and ran up the stairs. She felt both giddy and galled at her own audacity. Oh, goodness, she had grabbed at what she wanted with both hands and little consideration for anyone else’s feelings.
She would marry Sterling.
Her stomach knotted. She didn’t fool herself. His response had been tepid. In the end she hadn’t known why he agreed. She didn’t want to know. She just wanted it done.
She vowed to herself to be a good wife, the best helpmate ever so he would never regret his acceptance of her offer to stand-in for her sister.
His far-too-generous generous assessment of her reasoning was wrong. She wasn’t doing it to make things better for him or anyone else. She had offered herself in her sister’s place because she wanted Sterling for herself. She wanted his easy smile and friendly nature. She admired his longing to found a lasting legacy to leave his children. And she wanted him because when he had put his arms around her, she had been singed by a burning pleasure that must surely spring from the fires of hell.
His embrace had startled her so much her only thought at the time was that it was wrong to enjoy his touch. She had wanted to melt into him; instead she fled.
She peeled back the muslin covering from the wedding gown her mother had worn years ago and cried out. The satin had aged. What had been a gleaming white gown had mellowed into ivory and cream. It was a sign that she was not pure enough in heart to wear white.
She was scheming and evil and about to get her deepest, darkest wish fulfilled.
She told herself not to think and took great care with the dress. The style was not current, with the material flat across the abdomen and the small bustle in the back.
Mary rang for a maid as she stripped her day dress off. She was shaking like a leaf when the maid finally had her corset strings laced and yanked as tight as a hangman’s noose. The long row of buttons down the back of the wedding gown was fastened. Now, Mary had to tell her father, she would be the bride instead of Suzanna.
A sudden wave of dizziness reminded her she could not move quickly. As tightly as she was laced she could not breathe deeply. She would be miserable before the day was over, but she didn’t wish to risk any strain on the old seams of her mother’s wedding gown. It would be too just a punishment if she split her seams in front of the extensive guest list Suzanna had insisted upon.
Now, that Mary was alone in the last few minutes before marrying Sterling, her reasoning seemed the height of absurdity. That Sterling and she got along well enough and he didn’t seem any more fond of Suzanna than he was of her, didn’t mean he wanted to be married to Mary.
“Mary, what’s wrong?” Her father asked.
She released the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.
“Are you wearing your mother’s gown? You look lovely, my dear, but I thought Suzanna was the one getting married.”
“Suzanna’s run away to London.”
“Oh, dear.” Her father straightened his gloves. “Well, I expected as much. Headstrong, just like Lydia. You don’t mean to fool her intended into thinking you’re Suzanna, do you?”
“No, I talked to him this morning and offered myself as substitute.” Surely, her father would save her from herself and call the whole thing off.
“Ah, well, he is good fellow, and I shall be glad to welcome him into the family. I daresay, he’ll have an easier time of it with you. Shall we go? The carriage is waiting.”
Oh heavens, would no one save her from herself? Perhaps Sterling would have come to his senses and not be at the chapel.
She nearly collapsed as she was handed into the festooned-with-ribbons-and-roses carriage drawn by the white horses, which her gown did not match. Black spots danced before her eyes and perhaps the maid had pulled her corset strings too tight. Mary had held onto the bedpost and urged tighter, tighter, until they were both exhausted. She bit her lips to restrain an impulse to giggle.
Sterling watched his bride slowly walk up the center aisle of the church. Mary rested her free hand on her father’s arm and held herself rigidly straight, stretching for every inch of height she could muster, no doubt. He’d half-feared that Suzanna would have danced up to the alter.
The unusual cut of Mary’s gown emphasized her hourglass figure, and Sterling swallowed hard. Was her waist really that tiny? She was beautiful, dignified and extraordinarily pale.
She looked as if she was on her way to her funeral not her own wedding. Was her distress because she heard the gasps of guests who had expected to see her sister?
Sterling shifted his gaze to the nosegay of pink roses in her trembling hand. His heart pounded heavily. Did she find marrying him a colossal sacrifice?
His worry increased as she chewed her rosebud lip while her father handed her over. She met his eyes only briefly during the ceremony as she gave her answers and vows in a shallow, breathy voice unlike her normal tones. Her gaze remained fixed in the neighborhood of his chin. She swayed, and he reached out to steady her, putting a hand against the tiny span of her waist. She shuddered and then continued to tremble.
He couldn’t tell if his touch comforted her or not. He wanted to whisper reassurances to her, but he had never heard two hundred people so silent with all their attention trained on them.
The ceremony seemed interminably long as his concern for Mary grew. Why had she suggested this if she hadn’t wanted to marry him? But he searched his mind to come back to what she had said. She wanted to be married. He could guess from her enthusiasm over her new niece, she wanted children. Was he just a means to an end? Would any man do, since the man she wanted to marry was long dead?
Then the ceremony was over, and he leaned over to brush a kiss on her mouth. The brief touch of his lips to hers finished too quickly. He supposed he could have taken longer, but he was reminded that he had never kissed Mary before, and she had been startled when he tried to embrace her earlier in the day.
He kept an arm firmly around her tiny waist after the ceremony, although she tried several times to put space between them. But she just didn’t feel steady. He
r breathing was too shallow and her skin too pale. Standing next to her tiny frame he felt hulking and overpowering. Perhaps, his size scared her.
Finally they moved to an assembly hall where, after they received everyone’s well wishes, they sat down to an elaborate dinner. Mary pushed her food around on her plate. He encouraged her to eat, but she shook her head.
“You must eat,” he repeated.
Her brown eyes suddenly looked too moist. “Truly, I cannot.”
Feeling bewildered that he couldn’t ease her tension, he looked around the room. For once the crowd’s attention was diverted by the meal instead of focused squarely on him and Mary. “Everything has gone well, wonderfully well.”
She nodded and looked miserable.
“You did an amazing job.”
“A small ceremony would have been nice.”
Less people to witness her substitution for her sister? Less people to know of her sacrifice? Less people to explain to later if she decided to have the marriage annulled?
The only time she looked hopeful during the ceremony was when the minister spoke his bit about, speak now or forever hold your peace, as if she hoped a savior might leap up and protest her marriage to him.
He leaned close to her. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
She dipped her head down. “I never look my best in white.”
“It’s not the dress.”
“I know, it is not quite white.”
“The dress is beautiful, and you are beautiful in it.”
She bit her lip and mumbled a thank-you that sounded more like a protestation.
Good lord, he hadn’t complimented his bride. She was so tiny and perfectly curved and he wanted to explore all those curves, yet she looked more miserable than a whipped dog. His thoughts spun in a vicious circle. He wanted her alone, but he didn’t want to scare her.
The only thing he was sure of was that she acted as if she had made a mistake. He wanted to lose his formal clothes and sprawl back in his chair with his heels kicked up on the rungs.
