The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride

by Victoria Alexander

  His heart twisted for her. “Not at all.”

  “I was flirtatious with him and strived to be as charming and delightful and enticing as possible. I kept up with current events and the latest gossip and everything that might interest him so that he would not be bored by my conversation. I became an accomplished hostess and I always looked my very best and, well, I did all I could to be . . .”

  “Perfect?”

  “Exactly. I even talked of plans for the children we would have. Can you imagine?”

  “You had no idea—”

  “And shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I have suspected at least part of it?” She grabbed the closest box and flung it at the wall. “What a fool I was. I allowed myself to love him and I let him break my heart. I should have known. I should have been smarter.” She clenched her hands by her side. She was visibly shaking now. “It wasn’t long before he started spending more time at Hargate Hall than he did here, claiming he preferred the peace and solitude of the country and insisting that I stay in London. He said on more than one occasion that it would be unfair of him to demand I rusticate with him in the country as I so clearly loved all that London offered. It seemed so generous and thoughtful of him. Even then I hadn’t quite given up hope of more than fondness between us.

  “In the beginning, he came to London frequently and I went to the country just as often. But as time passed, it seemed harder and harder for him to manage to come into the city and I felt more and more out of place at Hargate Hall. Silly, as I am Lady Hargate. Of course . . .” The corners of her lips curved up in a mirthless smile. “Julian was usually with him.” She paused. “He was there on the day Phillip died.”

  He studied her closely. Her air of calm was crumbling. “You’re shaking, you know.”

  “Am I?” She held her trembling hands out in front of her and stared at them as if she had never seen them before. “Isn’t that odd.”

  “Aside from that”—he nodded at her hands—“you don’t appear nearly as angry as I thought you would be.”

  “Well, I’ve always been one for appearances. But make no mistake.” Her eyes narrowed. “I am angry. I am furious.” She turned on her heel and stalked from the room.

  Sam jumped to his feet to follow her but she returned almost at once with a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other.

  “Scottish whisky. Excellent stuff.” She thrust the bottle and glasses at him. “You should probably pour. I’m not sure I can do it.”

  “I know I would welcome a drink.” He pulled a cover off a table, took the whisky and glasses from her, set them down, then poured a glass. “I’m not sure this is the best thing for you, however.” He handed her the glass.

  “On the contrary, my dear Samuel, I suspect this is the very best thing for me.” She accepted the glass and took a healthy swallow.

  “I thought you didn’t drink hard liquor?”

  “Good Scottish whisky is scarcely hard liquor.” She sniffed.

  “It is in the rest of the world.”

  “Well, not in this house.” She took another sip. “Phillip introduced me to it. We used to drink whisky while we played chess so I made certain there was always some kept here.”

  His brow rose. “He’s been gone for three years and yet the whisky is still here?”

  “Don’t be absurd. It’s not the same bottle.” She took a long sip. “I don’t drink it often but I like the way it burns my throat and warms my soul.”

  “I don’t think it’s your soul it’s warming.”

  “My soul could use some warming.” She stared into her glass. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry with anyone. He should have told me.”

  “Yes, he should have.”

  “I don’t understand why he didn’t, really.” A thoughtful note sounded in her voice as if she were looking into the past. “At least about not being able to have children. I could have understood that. I suspect it was pride more than anything that kept him silent on that score. But the rest of it . . .” She shook her head. “I never would have allowed myself to fall in love with him, you see, if I had known that he couldn’t return my love.” She lifted her glass to Sam. “I have always been a practical sort.”

  He smiled. “Not the type to be swept away by foolish emotions like love?”

  “Not anymore. I do learn my lessons well.” She raised her chin slightly. “I am as angry with myself I suppose as I am with him. I should have known or at least suspected. There were any number of clues but the thought never even crossed my mind. If I had known . . .”

  “Would you have divorced him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He shrugged. “His inability to have children would have been grounds enough I would think. Nothing else would have had to enter into it.”

  “Probably.” She nodded. “It scarcely matters now. He’s gone and I am . . . free.” She took another long drink.

  He studied her for a moment. “Do you feel better?”

  “No.” Her gaze met Sam’s. “I am very nearly as sad as I am angry. Perhaps more so. Horribly, horribly sad.” Her voice caught.

  He set down his glass, took hers from her, and placed it beside his. “You need to sit down.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Yes, you do,” he said in a hard tone. “Your hands are still shaking and you look like your knees are going to collapse at any minute.” He wrapped his arm around her and led her to the sofa.

  “Nonsense,” she muttered but sank down into the sofa nonetheless.

  He returned her glass to her, took his, and sat down beside her.

  “Is this what betrayal feels like, Sam?” An awful look of pain shone in her eyes and he resisted the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. Now was not the time. “This dreadful overwhelming sorrow? This feeling of complete and utter loss?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Might I confide something in you?” She smiled in a wry manner. “Although at this point, given all I’ve already said, asking might seem silly.”

  He smiled. “I am at your command.”

  She met his gaze directly. “I should like nothing better at this moment than to fling myself onto your very kind shoulder and weep.”

  “You can if you wish,” he said gently.

  “I’m afraid if I start I will never stop.”

  He paused. “It gets better, you know. The way you’re feeling now. With time, the pain of betrayal fades although admittedly, the anger might linger.”

  “And you speak from experience?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Ah yes.” She took another sip and studied him curiously. “The former fiancée?”

  He nodded.

  “Tell me.” She slumped back in the sofa, an obvious indication that the emotion of the day coupled with the whisky was taking its toll.

  “It’s not all that interesting.”

  “Nonetheless, you now know all the most devastating secrets of my life.” She wagged her finger at him. “It seems only fair that I know yours.”

  “All right.” His story might help take her mind off hers. He gathered his thoughts. “Miss Lenore Stanley was, for all intents and purposes, well . . .” He slanted Delilah a quick smile. “Perfect.”

  She grimaced.

  “Or I thought she was. She was beautiful and intelligent and exactly what I wanted in the woman I intended to spend the rest of my life with. My mother and hers were involved in the same social and cultural and charitable activities. Her family was well off. It was an excellent match according to the way the world views such things.” He paused. “And I fell hard for her.”

  Delilah’s eyes widened. “You loved her?”

  “I did.” He nodded.

  “And therein lay your mistake,” she said in a sage manner.

  “Apparently.” He thought for a moment. “As it turned out she was more interested in becoming Mrs. Samuel Russell than being my wife.” He chuckled. “Which came to light wh
en I discovered her in the arms of another man.”

  Delilah winced. “That is awkward.”

  “This was a few weeks before the wedding.” He shrugged. “I allowed her to call it off, to save her embarrassment.”

  “How very gallant of you.”

  He glanced at her. “Sarcasm?”

  “No, I mean it. If there is one thing I have noticed about you is that you’re very gallant, like a knight of old. I didn’t expect that.”

  “In an American?”

  “No, in any man.” Delilah raised her glass to him. “It’s most appealing.”

  “Thank you,” he said wryly.

  “So, she broke your heart?”

  “She did at that.” He nodded. “Like you, I should have known. I should have seen the signs. Gray knew what kind of woman she was. He tried to warn me but I ignored him.”

  “I suppose we don’t often see what we aren’t looking for,” she said softly, more to herself than to him. “Or perhaps what we don’t want to see.”

  “It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t claimed that she loved me.” He sipped his whisky. “So you see, I too have known betrayal. And, while it did take time, I recovered and I have learned my lesson. No more fortune hunters for me although admittedly, they aren’t always easy to recognize.”

  “At least now you know what to look for.”

  “Hopefully.” He nodded. “But I shall be smarter in the future.”

  “You don’t just want a wife though, do you?” She studied him curiously.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want love?” It was as much an accusation as a question.

  He smiled. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  “You want to fall in love?” She sat up and stared at him as if he had just grown another head. “Again?”

  “It was quite wonderful while it lasted,” he said mildly.

  “Until your heart was left crushed and mangled beneath her fashionably shod heel.”

  “Admittedly, that was somewhat less than wonderful.”

  “Good Lord.” She shook her head in disgust. “You’re one of those romantic types, aren’t you?”

  “I suppose I am.”

  She rose unsteadily to her feet, accusation sounding in her voice. “Do you write poetry as well?”

  He laughed and stood up. “I haven’t yet. Nor have I ever felt the need to.”

  “That’s something at any rate.” Her brow furrowed and she took another swallow. “This is yet another area in which we differ.”

  “Oh?” He bit back a smile. “You write poetry then?”

  “No, of course not. But you wish for love and I intend to avoid it.” She straightened her shoulders. “I will never make that mistake again.”

  “That’s right, you never make the same mistake twice.”

  “Never.” Resolve rang in her voice.

  “I think you use the word never entirely too much. Never is an absolute and leaves no room for the unexpected.” Without thinking, he grabbed her free hand, and pulled it palm-up to his lips. “And as you said today—life is full of surprises.”

  Her gaze met his. “Do you realize we have missed the last train?”

  “Have we?” He lowered her hand but kept it held in his.

  “We shall have to spend the night here.” A challenge gleamed in her eyes. “Will you be sharing my bed?”

  “My dear Dee, I would like nothing better.” He took her glass and set it on the table. Then took her other hand in his. “But you’re still distraught and more than a little tipsy, aren’t you?”

  She thought for a moment then nodded. “Possibly.”

  “Well then we do have a problem.” He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. “There is nothing I would like more than to spend the night with you by my side but unfortunately . . .” He heaved a reluctant sigh. “What kind of gallant knight would I be if I were to take advantage of you in this state?”

  “Well, yes there is that. And we did agree not to. Still, I might be willing to ignore that.” A wicked twinkle sparked in her eyes. “What if I were to take advantage of you?”

  He laughed. “As tempting as that is, and you have no idea how tempting, I think it would be best if we retired separately tonight. And, as you said, we did agree that there would be no more of that sort of thing.”

  “Lord save me from men of honor,” she said in a lofty manner and started for the doorway. She stopped and swiveled back to him. “The house is not closed up because I was off on a holiday. All the furniture upstairs is covered but there are blankets and sheets in chests.” She aimed a pointed finger at him. “You shall have to make up your own bed, you know; there are no servants.”

  “I shall do my best,” he said in a solemn manner. Now that she was standing, she was obviously more tipsy than he had thought. The whisky probably hadn’t hit her until she got to her feet. Still, this would help her sleep, and didn’t things always look better in the morning?

  “You might have to make mine too. I’m not sure I have ever made up a bed.” She made her way through the doorway and paused at the foot of the stairs. “I had to economize”—she shuddered at the word—“when my funds were cut off but I only closed the house right before I went to Millworth, a few weeks ago.” She cast him a sly smile. “I had a secret cache of money I always kept for emergencies. My mother says one should always keep a hidden reserve because, as you know, men—”

  “Are not to be trusted?”

  “Exactly.” She nodded. “And as much as I hate to admit it, my mother was right. And my secret fund allowed me to keep the house running as long as I could. When I couldn’t, my bags were packed, and I let my servants go while assuring them I would take them back as soon as I could. Before they left, they threw dustcovers over everything.” She sighed. “Everything is almost exactly as it was on the day I left.”

  “Then we should have no difficulty.” He gestured at the stairs. “Shall we?”

  She considered the stairway and frowned. “Odd, I don’t remember it being quite this steep.”

  “Allow me to assist you.” He swept her into his arms.

  “My, you are gallant,” she said with a grin.

  “Not really.” He flipped her over his shoulder, anchored her with one hand, and grabbed a lamp with the other. “But I do need to see where I’m going.”

  She giggled. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her giggle before. It was shockingly delightful. Damnation, this woman was going to be his undoing.

  “Which room?” he asked when he reached the top of the stairs.

  “The second on the right,” she murmured as if she could barely get out the words. He’d seen this kind of exhaustion before. The upheaval of intense emotion sapped the strength of even the strongest. That coupled with the whisky and he was surprised she had lasted this long.

  “Here we are.” He nudged open the door with his foot, set the lamp on a dresser, then stood her on her feet. “Good night, Dee.”

  “You can’t leave yet.” She huffed.

  “Well, I’m not staying,” he said in a sharper tone than he had intended.

  She frowned at him. “Of course not. That would be . . . exceptionally improper. But a great deal of fun.”

  He clenched his teeth. “You’re making this very difficult for me.”

  “Oh for goodness’ sake, Sam.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “I’m not going to accost you. Rip your clothes off with my teeth or something of that sort.” She paused. “Interesting idea though.”

  “Dee!”

  “Oh, don’t be so stuffy. I’m the stuffy one, mired in tradition, remember? You’re a proponent of progress and the future and all that nonsense. Why you’re probably a great supporter of free love and that sort of thing.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “Lady Hargate!”

  “I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?”

  “Free love?” He could barely choke out the words. “Where did you—”

  “I read
a great deal. All sorts of things that I should and any number of things that I probably shouldn’t.” She smirked. “I am exceptionally well informed.”

  He stared. “Apparently.”

  She smiled as if she knew a secret he did not. It was most unnerving. She turned her back to him. “Now then, if you would be so good as to unbutton my bodice and loosen my corset—”

  “Delilah, I said I am not going to take advantage of you.”

  “Nor are you going to allow me to take advantage of you. As disappointing as that is, for both of us I might add, I don’t have a maid here and if I am going to get any rest at all, I cannot do it in these clothes.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “Yes, of course.” He fumbled with her buttons then loosened the laces on her corset. “Done,” he said with relief and stepped back.

  She shrugged out of her sleeves, let her dress fall to the floor, and stepped out of it. Then she removed her corset and dropped it. He swallowed hard. How could any man still breathing possibly have resisted this?

  She turned, now wearing nothing but a lace trimmed, sheer chemise, and matching drawers in a faint blush color. Or perhaps that was her. God, she was exquisite. A goddess come to life. She stepped toward him.

  Sam had always prided himself on his willpower but right this very moment he had no idea where it might be. Nor did he care. He should leave. Right now. Before he lost his head. Before he started something they might both regret. Before she wrapped her arms around his and pressed her warm, supple body close to his. Before—

  “Sam,” she said softly and placed her hand in the middle of his chest. She pushed gently and he took a step back. “Good evening.” She smiled and closed the door firmly in his face.

  He drew a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. Well, that was close. He wanted her but it was a mistake. At least tonight.

  Without warning the door opened and she thrust the lamp at him. “You’ll need this to find a room for yourself. Any one along this hallway should do.” She nodded. “Sleep well.” And the door closed once again.

  What was the woman doing to him? He crossed the hall and pushed open the door directly across from hers. This would do well enough. Not that he imagined he’d manage to sleep. And if he did, no doubt, his dreams would be filled with her.