The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride

by Victoria Alexander

  Delilah stared at her mother. “Are you saying I’m stubborn?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Mother smiled. “I’ve never been anything less than honest with you or your sisters—”

  “Except for that little matter about saying Father was dead when he wasn’t,” Beryl said under her breath.

  Mother continued without pause. “And I don’t intend to start now. So yes dear, you are stubborn. Beyond that, you have always been far too concerned with propriety and what you should do or who you should be for that matter. You have spent your entire life thus far doing exactly what you were expected to do and never treading from the path of proper behavior.”

  Delilah’s eyes narrowed. “Goodness, Mother, I’m not certain if that was a compliment or a criticism.”

  “You are my youngest girl, my dear darling daughter.” Mother smiled. “You’ve never given me a moment of trouble or so much as a single sleepless night. You have never created scandal or been the subject of gossip.” She cast a pointed glance at Camille and Beryl then returned her attention to Delilah. “You are kind and generous, you have a good heart, you’re clever and amusing and you’re exceptionally lovely as well. Indeed, you look very much like I did at your age.”

  Someone snorted. Mother ignored it. “You made the very best of an awkward situation with Phillip. I long suspected something was awry but I do so hate to interfere so I kept my doubts to myself. I assumed you would tell me if you needed me.”

  Delilah nodded although she’d never considered confiding in her mother. It was hard to admit to anyone, let alone your mother, that your marriage was not what you wished it to be.

  “I have always been proud of you and I always will be.”

  Delilah’s throat tightened and she stared at her mother.

  “You need to do what you think is right for you. Nothing and no one else really matters.” Mother reached over and took her hand. “You have my complete and total support in however you want to handle this American. Although . . .” Amusement twinkled in her eyes. “If you wished to shoot the man, I do think that would be best left to your father.”

  “I don’t.” Delilah choked back a sob. “Thank you, Mother.”

  “Now that we have that settled I do have a another question.” Mother’s gaze narrowed. “What on earth did you mean when you said your funds were unavailable?”

  Never in his life had Sam been at a loss over how to solve a dilemma. He stood outside the carriage house and stared unseeing off into the distance. Certainly, whatever problem he’d been faced with might be difficult, it might even appear impossible and yes, on occasion his solutions had been complete and utter failures but that was different. That was business. This was personal.

  “Very well then,” Gray said behind him. “I surrender.”

  “What do you mean, you surrender?” Sam turned toward his friend.

  It was already late afternoon, a full day past the motorwagon’s accident. He and Gray had practically taken up residence with Jim at the carriage house, only returning to the manor last night to sleep. They returned shortly after dawn this morning. All things considered, staying away from the manor was a wise move. It was all he could do to keep from knocking down Delilah’s door and making her see how wrong she was. Making her admit that she did care for him and that, in spite of their differences, they were meant to be together. Sam needed distance between himself and that temptation but it wasn’t easy. He could well understand where Sampson went wrong.

  “I mean . . .” Gray handed him a cigar. “I give up.”

  Sam shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He aimed the cigar at his friend. “And where did you get these?”

  “I had William bring them down with our last meal. I have one for Jim too.” He struck a match and lit his cigar.

  “Good.” Sam lit his cigar. “He deserves it.”

  “The man is brilliant. You are lucky to have him.”

  “I know.” Sam paused. “If we can get this motorwagon business running, I was thinking of offering him a new position.”

  Gray puffed on his cigar. “You want him to run the new company? I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

  “I don’t think he’d like running the whole thing. It’s not where his strength is. He’s not much for sitting at a desk.” Sam paused. “I’d like to put him in charge of development, that sort of thing. A position equal in importance to the head of the company. That’s where the future lies. Benz’s motorwagon is a first step, but this new engine of his is really the beginning and opens a world of possibilities. Jim’s just the man to take that further.”

  “I agree.” Gray nodded. “But the motorwagon isn’t what I was referring to when I said I surrender.”

  “Then I have no idea what you mean.”

  “I mean, I have known you long enough to know when something is weighing on your mind.”

  “Any number of things are weighing on my mind. There’s a lot of repair needed here.”

  “Yes, and I thought that was it initially but it’s not. You’ve been distant and preoccupied since the accident. Usually I can tell what you’re thinking, but I admit you have me stymied so I give up.” Gray studied him closely. “Now, I’m asking. What is wrong with you?”

  Sam considered the question, not that he needed to. What was wrong with him could be summed up in one word: Delilah. “It appears I may have fallen in love.”

  Gray stared. “With whom?”

  Sam cast him a wry look.

  “There’s no one . . .” Gray’s eyes widened with surprise. “Delilah?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Sam nodded. “And I’m fairly certain she’s in love with me as well.”

  “She doesn’t even like you.”

  Sam shrugged.

  “What are you not telling me?”

  “For one thing, we did meet in New York.”

  “I knew it!” Gray paused. “And? Obviously there’s more.”

  “And I haven’t been able to get her out of my thoughts since then.” Sam shook his head. “She’s haunted me, Gray. Whether I’m awake or asleep, she’s lingered, in my mind, in my dreams. I would have followed her back here long ago if she hadn’t been so adamant about never seeing me again.” He chuckled in a mirthless manner. “Almost rude about it, really.”

  “This explains so much,” Gray murmured.

  “I have never met a woman in my life who was more opposed to, well, love, than she is. I always thought love is ultimately what all women wanted, especially when it came to marriage.”

  “I thought Lenore would have awakened you to that fallacy.”

  “One would think. But it’s not the same.” He shook his head. “In ways too numerous to mention, Delilah is nothing like Lenore. Except that love is not on her list of requirements for marriage.”

  “You’ve asked her to marry you?” Shock rang in Gray’s voice.

  “I am not so stupid as to ask a question I already know the answer to, when the answer is one I don’t want to hear.”

  “This is extremely confusing.”

  “Believe me, I am well aware of that.”

  “Let me see if I have this right.” Gray puffed his cigar thoughtfully. “You love her. You think she loves you. But you won’t ask her to marry you for fear she’ll say no because she doesn’t want to marry for love?”

  “That’s pretty much it.” Sam stared at the glowing tip of his cigar. “If I live to be a thousand years, I will never understand the English. Or women for that matter.”

  “We can be a confusing lot but no man of any nationality understands women.”

  “Except the French and maybe the Italians.”

  “No, they just think they do.”

  “Delilah has this . . . this perfect match she’s determined to marry.”

  “Ah yes.” Gray nodded in a knowing manner. “A gentleman with a lofty title and an even greater bank account.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You have mo
re money than she could spend in a lifetime.”

  “Yes, but it’s new money. I’m nouveau riche, you know. Apparently, there is a stigma to that although I’m pretty sure it spends the same way. Plus, I’m American. An unforgivable sin in her eyes.”

  “Good God no.” Gray heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “That will never do.”

  “And regardless of the position my family—mostly my mother—has clawed out in society we don’t have titles in America.” Sam puffed on his cigar. “There’s more, of course. Basic differences between us. Delilah values tradition whereas I am aimed toward the future. As she has pointed out to me on more than one occasion, we have nothing in common.”

  “Except love.”

  “Which is not what Delilah wants. She thinks our differences are insurmountable. I don’t.” He paused. “She is protecting herself from heartbreak. I can understand that. It’s a most sensible position, really. Still . . .” He glanced at his friend. “What am I supposed to do, Gray?”

  “I might not be the best person to give advice in this situation. It took me eleven years to accept that Camille was the only woman in the world for me.”

  “I’d prefer not to wait eleven years.”

  “Well, you do have a few choices.” Gray drew on his cigar thoughtfully. “You could fight for her. Try to convince her she’s wrong. Come up with a way to make her see that love is worth the risk of heartbreak. Although I should warn you.” He grimaced. “I have known her all her life and she’s fairly stubborn.”

  “Is she?” Sam’s brow rose. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Or you could bow to her wishes, I suppose.” He paused. “You should probably consider that she might actually be right. The differences between you may be too great to overcome. Ultimately, you could both be miserable for the rest of your lives.”

  “Do you think she’s right?”

  “No, I don’t.” Gray puffed on his cigar. “I have been in love with Camille for much of my life. Even when I intended never to see her again, when she had married someone else, she was always with me. Somewhere, in the back of my mind or maybe in my heart, I don’t know, but she was always there. I could no more forget about her than I could stop breathing. But it wasn’t until I returned to England and saw her again that I realized, in spite of my best efforts, she was the love of my life.” He aimed his cigar at Sam. “And life wasn’t worth living without her.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I suppose I’m saying even if I knew marrying Camille would end in certain heartbreak, I would rather have a moment of happiness with her than a lifetime without her,” he said slowly. “I’m saying the joys of love are worth the risks.”

  “Well, now that we have you convinced, how do I convince your future sister-in-law?”

  “I have no idea. I wish I had some sage, sound, definitive advice for you but I don’t.” He shook his head. “Delilah is nothing like Camille. Of all three sisters, Delilah is the most practical and sensible. She is the one who has always done precisely what was expected of her in all matters. Up to and including the type of man she married.” Gray thought for a moment. “I don’t know that you can change that.”

  “I can try,” Sam said grimly.

  “It seems to me you are a risk she is not willing to take.” He paused. “But then she’s never taken risks before. She’s never strayed from the path laid out for her. Never veered from the boundaries of proper and expected behavior. Delilah is not an adventurous sort.”

  “Probably not.” Although for a few days in New York, she was.

  “Answer me this,” Gray said slowly. “If she was, oh, say, an investment, what would be your next step?”

  “That’s a ridiculous analogy.”

  “No, it’s not. Just think about it for a moment.” Gray’s brow furrowed in thought. “If she were a company you wished to purchase, what would you do?”

  “I don’t know.” He glared at his friend. “Evaluate its strengths and weaknesses, I suppose. Try to determine where it’s vulnerable. Whether the plans for future operation and expansion are viable. Appraise its debts, assets, that sort of thing.”

  “So what are Delilah’s strengths?”

  “This is absurd.” Sam sighed. “I don’t know. She’s intelligent. She’s beautiful.” He thought for a moment. “She’s stronger than she thinks. I can’t explain exactly how I know that but I do. It’s an observation more than anything. She plays chess nearly as well as she plays tennis. She’s passionate about her convictions. She’s amusing. I enjoy her company. I enjoy just being with her.”

  “And her weaknesses?”

  “She’s intelligent. But she doesn’t realize the value of that. She’s stubborn, of course, but you know that. She absolutely refuses to see that she could possibly be wrong.”

  “Perhaps you have much in common after all.” Gray puffed his cigar and stared into the distance. “So, does that make anything clearer? Do you see what you have to do now?”

  “Not at all.” Sam blew a perfect smoke ring. “Haven’t a clue.”

  “Damn. Sorry, old man, that was the best I could do.” Gray blew a ring to match his friend’s. “Well, you have time to figure something out. Without access to her money she has nowhere else to go. She’s essentially trapped here.”

  “That problem has been resolved, although I suspect it will be some time before everything is set to rights. Even if everything moves faster than expected, she’ll be here at least through the wedding. So that gives me . . . what?” He glanced the other man. “Twelve days until the wedding?”

  Gray nodded. “Plenty of time. You’ve accomplished more with less.”

  “You know, I think I could compete if this question of marriage involved a real suitor. If there was actually another man she had set her sights on.”

  “I’d wager on you in a heartbeat.”

  “But competing with an ideal, with a concept, regardless of how flawed it might be . . .” He shook his head. “There’s nothing solid to fight.”

  “Hard to confront something that’s little more than an idea.”

  “Exactly.”

  Both men fell silent. Beside him, Gray was lost in his own thoughts, his own problems.

  Sam still had no idea how to reach Delilah, how to convince her love was worth the risk of heartbreak. He was willing to chance it and he had been hurt in the past. But then Delilah had never really taken risks until she’d allowed herself to fall in love with her husband. Gray was right from the beginning. Lord Hargate had been an idiot. Now, it was up to Sam to make her believe in love and magic and forever.

  How was still the question.

  When it came right down to it, maybe Delilah’s only true weakness was that, even if she refused to admit it, she was in love with him.

  Or maybe that was his.

  Chapter Twenty

  Eight days before the wedding . . .

  Millworth Manor was fast filling up.

  While Sam and Gray spent nearly all their time at the carriage house, whenever they did venture back to the manor someone new had arrived. Delilah’s parents had finally returned home. Lord Briston seemed a good enough sort although Sam was still confused as to the details of his untimely death and subsequent resurrection. Lady Briston was lovely but a bit flighty. Still, one suspected there was steel beneath her capricious surface. She reminded him of his mother especially given the way she studied him like an insect under glass. It was a more than a little unnerving. Lady Dunwell had also arrived although apparently her husband wouldn’t join them until the day before the wedding. Then there was Lord Charborough, introduced as a friend of the family. He appeared pleasant enough although there was something about him that made Sam vaguely uneasy. Perhaps it was because no man had the right to be quite that handsome. Or perhaps it was because he was everything that Sam was not. Everything Delilah wanted.

  After two full days of working at the carriage house, he and Gray decided Sam and Jim would go into London to try to find pa
rts they couldn’t fix, or have parts fabricated to their specifications, as well as look for space to rent to repair the vehicle. It made sense to be closer to whatever supplies might still be needed. Besides, it might be necessary to telegraph Mr. Benz for advice. That would be much easier in London. If they could find an appropriate place, Jim and the motorwagon would move into the city. As London was so easily accessible, Sam and Gray would meet with Jim every few days to check on his progress.

  Sam and Jim’s foray into London served Gray well. Apparently, Camille was somewhat irritated at his constant absence from the manor. Not, as Gray pointed out, that his presence was necessary anyway. The groom, he confided, was nothing more than a theatrical prop. Necessary to the plot of the play but all in all a strictly minor character. Regardless, the bride was not happy especially given that her father had joined the men several times when he was expected to be elsewhere. Lord Briston was fascinated by the motorwagon but, as he always brought cigars and a decanter of good Scottish whisky with him, neither Sam nor Gray thought the vehicle was the primary attraction. Oddly enough, they didn’t seem to get as much accomplished when Lord Briston was with them either.

  “I didn’t see you when you arrived back yesterday,” Gray said when he met Sam at the carriage house. “I assume you came directly here. I would have joined you but . . .” He shuddered. “It appears the love of my life is insane.”

  Sam laughed. “Come now, Gray. It can’t be that bad.”

  “You have no idea,” Gray said darkly.

  “I have five sisters. I have some idea.”

  “I have no sisters. I had no warning and no idea a wedding could turn a perfectly lovely woman into some kind of unrecognizable creature from the depths of hell. Frankenstein’s creation pales in comparison.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” Sam chuckled.