The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride

by Victoria Alexander

  “I should hope so.” Indignation rang in Beryl’s voice. “He is the groom, after all.”

  “No, not Grayson.” Camille rolled her eyes. “Sam, of course. Grayson went into London yesterday to see him. I think it did him good to get away. Do you know he actually had the nerve the other day of accusing me of being ill-tempered and out of sorts?”

  Beryl gasped. “No, not that.”

  Camille ignored her. “As I said, Sam will be here tomorrow.”

  “I assumed he would.” And Delilah was prepared, as was Victor. Although he did seem to be somewhat taken with either Miss Martin or one of the Radnor sisters. Good, he was a very nice man and she certainly wished him the best. After the wedding. One more day and then she’d never see Sam again. That was for the best as well. Her life would go on exactly as planned. Exactly as she wanted. Still, it did make her stomach twist and her heart ache.

  “Delilah.” Her mother met her gaze directly. “I, or rather we, as we all agree, think you might have been too hasty in dismissing Mr. Russell. We think the only sensible, rational, practical thing to do is to reconsider.”

  Delilah stared. “No.”

  “Why not?” Camille asked.

  “My reasons haven’t changed.” She shook her head.

  “We have no common ground. Sam and I are not Grayson and Camille. They belong together. They have everything in common. Sam and I are from entirely different worlds. The chances of us even being content with each other are slim. That’s a risk I am not willing to take.”

  “Well, you should be.” Beryl’s gaze met her younger sister’s. “Goodness, Delilah, if I have learned nothing else in life I have learned that the greater the risk, the greater the reward. The greater the adventure.” She smiled. “Love, little sister, is a fabulous adventure.”

  “Love is not enough,” Delilah said. “Mother loved Father and he chose to wander the world. And she chose not to let him come home and to tell the world he was dead.”

  “It was my finest hour,” Mother said smugly, then paused. “Or perhaps my worst.”

  “In spite of love, in spite of the fact that you had everything in common, one would not call your lives together a great success.”

  “I have had a good time of it,” Mother said more to herself than the others.

  “For the most part without him,” Beryl pointed out.

  “Mother,” Delilah said with a huff. “Do you think two people who are complete opposites can be happy together?”

  “I would say it depends on the people. Regardless, it might be a great deal of fun to try.” She thought for a moment. “Not trying is so much worse than failing. Most of my regrets in life are about those things I didn’t attempt. It’s wondering what if that will truly drive you mad, dear. Do keep in mind, Delilah, and all of you really, sometimes, even when one isn’t completely wrong, one might not be entirely right either.”

  Camille frowned. “That makes no sense.”

  Mother scoffed. “Oh darling, it’s not supposed to, it’s life. We all make stupid mistakes, even when we’re doing something for the absolutely right reasons.”

  “The right reasons?” Teddy said.

  “Oh, you know. To protect ourselves or those we love. That sort of thing.”

  Delilah had no idea if Mother was speaking about Delilah and Sam or herself and Father. It really didn’t matter. Her mind was made up, no matter how much it hurt.

  She drew a deep breath. “As much as I do appreciate your advice and while I am grateful that you care enough to interfere, this is really none of your concern. Sam is no longer a topic of discussion and frankly, I’m tired of talking about him.” Or thinking about him. Constantly.

  “It seems to me we haven’t talked about Sam at all up to now,” Beryl said slowly. “I thought we were being extremely considerate not to so much as mention him. Especially given how unhappy you are at his absence.”

  “I’m fine,” Delilah said through clenched teeth. She would simply have to get used to missing him and thinking about him and longing for him. He was not part of her plan and the sooner her, well, her heart apparently realized that the better off she would be. She drew a deep breath and glanced at Camille. “Now then, Camille, surely we can say something that will upset you.”

  “As odd as it may sound, I am now more concerned about you than I am the wedding. Although, as we are now speaking of the wedding . . .” Camille paused. “You should know that there’s a possibility Sam will not be attending the wedding alone.”

  Delilah stared. “Oh?”

  Camille nodded. “Grayson said they ran into Sam’s former fiancée.”

  Delilah drew her brows together. “In London?”

  Camille nodded.

  “She broke his heart you know.” Delilah’s throat tightened at the thought of how badly that woman had hurt him. “And he’s just the kind of foolish romantic who would be willing to overlook that sort of thing under the right circumstances.”

  “The right circumstances being that the woman he loves is unwilling to bend enough to accept his love?” Camille asked. “Grayson says Sam is every bit as unhappy as you are.”

  “He’ll be fine.” She squared her shoulders. “He’ll return to America. He’ll live his life exactly as he is supposed to, as will I.”

  “Well then,” Mother said with a shrug. “There’s nothing more to discuss. Delilah absolutely refuses to consider that she might possibly be wrong and making the greatest mistake of her life. And Mr. Russell might well be back in the arms of the woman who is no doubt much better suited for him than Delilah.” She turned toward the bride. “Now then, Camille, I think these baskets would be better placed . . .”

  Would he bring her? The woman who had broken his heart? Surely even an American would realize that was inappropriate. Unless he wanted to point out he was just as willing to move on as she was. She had Victor after all.

  How had this become such an awful mess? All she’d wanted was one, tiny adventure. There was a lesson here but she had no idea what it was. Unless of course it had something to do with learning that love was unexpected and not the least bit sensible and, if allowed to do so, would ruin one’s life. Of course, she had learned that long ago.

  For the first time she wondered if she might indeed be wrong. Her family certainly thought so. Was she simply being stubborn, standing her ground when doing so was a dreadful mistake? Was she so afraid to risk love again that she didn’t have the courage to follow her heart?

  Would she spend the rest of her life wondering what if? Would regret haunt that perfect, expected life she had planned? Would Sam linger always in the back of her mind? In her dreams? In her soul?

  Perhaps it wasn’t love that had broken her heart but love with the wrong man. Perhaps with the right man . . .

  It did seem that in her efforts to avoid heartbreak by pushing him away, her heart had been broken just as surely. And one did wonder, if her heart was broken without him, maybe the risk of being with him was really no risk at all.

  Maybe her adventure in New York hadn’t been a dreadful mistake after all. Maybe it had been a beginning. And maybe, just maybe, what she really wanted wasn’t never to see him again.

  Maybe, what she really wanted from him was forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Camille’s wedding day . . .

  Even the most dull-witted of observers would admit Millworth Manor was a madhouse and Camille wasn’t the only daft woman running about today. While Teddy managed to hang on to her usual serenity, Camille was once again crazed, Mother was frazzled, and even Beryl seemed to have lost her composure.

  Add to that the fact that the number of houseguests had risen, including several of Grayson’s friends from America. Fortunately, the number of new arrivals included Lionel—although Delilah was beginning to suspect Beryl’s husband used his political responsibilities in London as a convenient excuse to avoid spending more time than was necessary with Beryl’s family. Not that Delilah could blame the
man. And Uncle Basil finally arrived late yesterday, alleviating at least one of Camille’s concerns. But their father’s twin did seem a bit more preoccupied than usual. He had mentioned there was a family matter of some importance he needed to discuss but, after gauging the level of insanity in the air, agreed it might well be best to wait until after the wedding. Thank God. The last thing any of them needed was a family matter of some importance.

  The wedding was just over an hour away. Delilah was ready except for the last-minute addition of her gown. Woe be it to anyone who dressed too early and then, God help them all, wrinkled the peach silk confections in any way.

  The latest crisis had Delilah rummaging in the drawer of the ladies’ desk in the sitting room for the brooch Camille had misplaced.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Hargate,” Clement’s voice sounded from the open door.

  “Yes?” Delilah answered but didn’t look up. How did such a small drawer fill up with so many odds and ends? Delilah suspected no one had tidied this drawer in years. Still, if the blasted brooch was here, she would find it.

  “Lady Dunwell says the missing brooch has been found,” Clement announced.

  “Thank you, Clement.” She breathed a sigh of relief and closed the desk drawer.

  “And you have a—”

  “I’ll announce myself, Clement, but thank you.”

  Delilah’s heart caught and she straightened. Sam strolled toward her in a casual manner, a rolled-up paper in his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” He shouldn’t be here. Not yet. She hadn’t thought she’d see him until after the wedding. She still had no idea what she wanted to say. What she should say. Bloody hell, she still hadn’t come up with a plan!

  “I came for the wedding of course,” he said smoothly.

  “I don’t mean here at Millworth.” She pulled her wrapper tighter around her. “I mean here, in the sitting room.”

  “This is where you are, so this is where I wanted to be.”

  “Goodness, Sam.” She drew her brows together. “This is entirely improper. The wedding is only an hour away and I am not quite dressed.”

  “I don’t care.”

  She waved at the doorway. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “All right then.” He turned and started toward the door.

  “You said you’d never leave me,” she said without thinking.

  He paused in midstep. “I said all you had to do was ask.”

  “Very well then.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m asking.”

  He again moved toward the door and she took a step toward him. “Blast it all, Sam, you’re in love with me! Anyone can see that. Don’t go!”

  “I’m not.” He closed the door then turned to face her.

  “I’m just closing the door.” He started toward her. “I don’t want to be interrupted.”

  She stared at him. “You don’t?”

  “We have a lot to discuss and we don’t have much time in which to do it.”

  She swallowed hard. “We don’t?”

  “The wedding, remember?”

  “Yes, of course.” She smiled weakly. “The wedding.”

  “I have done a great deal of thinking since I left Millworth.” He studied her for a moment. “You look beautiful, by the way. Gray said you looked as bad as I felt.”

  “I’m fine,” she said with a shrug.

  “So was I.” He chuckled.

  “How is Lenore,” she asked casually.

  “Lenore?” He shook his head. “I have no idea. Nor do I care.” He adopted a somber expression. “As I said I have done a great deal of thinking. About us. And don’t tell me there is no us.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “Because whether you want to admit it or not there is an us. There has been from the first day Mrs. Hargate met an employee of Grayson’s associate.”

  “Sam.” She stepped toward him.

  He held out his hand to stop her. “No, Dee, you need to listen to me. I was a fool to agree in New York that it would be best if we never saw each other again. I knew from the beginning, or I should have known, that you were the only woman in the world for me. I should have followed you back to England. I should have broken down the doors of Millworth Manor if necessary. I should never have let you go.”

  “I see.” Her throat tightened.

  “Furthermore, as you pride yourself on being practical and sensible, I thought the best way to lay my case before you was to come up with a list of reasons why we belong together. You have already laid out the reasons why we don’t. Most of them having to do with the fact that we are entirely different people, from different countries, different backgrounds, and we have nothing in common.”

  She should stop him. Tell him none of that mattered anymore. All she wanted was him. But Delilah always did recognize a plan when she saw one. It would be, well, rude, to interrupt him now.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Go on.”

  “Unfortunately, aside from the very real elements of fate and magic, which I am well aware you do not believe in—”

  “I never have.” Until now.

  “The only thing I can put on that list is love. Oh, and you are right about one thing.”

  “I do so hate to be wrong about everything.”

  “As do I.” His gaze met hers. “I do love you.”

  She bit back a smile. “I know.”

  “And you love me.”

  “I know that as well.”

  “As for the future . . .” He thrust the rolled-up paper at her.

  “What is this?” She took it and unrolled it. She scanned the page then looked at him. “Is this a contract?”

  “It is.” He nodded. “I had my solicitors draw it up. Admittedly, it’s not legally binding but it does carry a certain, oh, moral obligation I would say.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “Go on, read it.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what it says.”

  “All right.” He adopted a businesslike attitude that would have annoyed her before now. Today, she found it rather endearing. “It says the party of the first part—”

  She arched a brow. “The party of the first part?”

  “That would be me.” He started to pace then paused.

  “Unless you would prefer to be the party of the first part.

  I can have it changed.”

  “No.” She gestured for him to continue. “Do go on.”

  “The party of the first part agrees, as the party of the second part’s country and heritage is important to her, that both parties shall reside fully half the year in England and half the year in America. Unless, there are occasions of agreed upon importance that prevent said division of habitat.” He glanced at her. “Business and the like. Family obligations, that sort of thing.”

  She nodded.

  “In which case, there shall be suitable . . .” He paused in a significant manner. “Compensation.”

  “Oh, I do like compensation.”

  “I thought you would.” He resumed pacing. “This provision shall not be construed so as to prohibit any additional, mutually agreed upon, visits to either country in any given year.”

  “Very sensible.”

  “I thought so.” He nodded and continued. “Upon such time as there are children—”

  “Children?”

  “Children,” he said firmly.

  She glanced at the contract. “Does it say how many?”

  “I don’t think at this point that is a question for negotiation but I would suspect more than one and fewer than a herd.”

  “Very well then. Continue.”

  “Children are to be appropriately educated as to the heritage of the countries of origin of the party of the first part and the party of the second part. In addition, girls as well as boys will be encouraged to pursue higher forms of education.”

  “I like that.” She nodded.

  “And finally, the party of the second part will agre
e that, as we are nearing another century and whether she likes it or not progress is in the very air we breathe, to at least be amenable to the idea of heretofore unimagined inventions—”

  “You mean motorwagons?”

  “Among others.” He pinned her with a firm look. “To be as amenable to other innovations as she is to the telephone.”

  She winced. “That’s asking quite a lot, don’t you think?”

  “No.” Certainty rang in his voice. “I don’t. I think everything here is reasonable and fair to both sides. It’s a compromise, Dee.”

  “Oh, dear.” She shook her head in a mournful manner. “I’ve never been good at compromise.”

  He scoffed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  She studied him curiously. “What if I don’t agree to this compromise or your contract?”

  “Everything is negotiable but I warn you . . .” His eyes narrowed. “If this is not acceptable, then I will come up with another and another and another. I have no intention of giving up.” He shook his head slowly. “I let you go once, I won’t do it again.”

  “I see.” She glanced at the contract. “Correct me if I’m mistaken but I see nothing here about marriage.”

  “Perhaps because I haven’t asked you to marry me.”

  “It seems to me marriage is implied.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Read it for yourself.” She handed him the contract.

  “Hm.” He studied the document, his gaze stayed on the paper. “Do you know why I haven’t asked you to marry me?”

  “Because you thought I would say no.”

  “Exactly.” He raised his gaze to hers. “Was I right?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “I would have said no a few weeks ago, even a few days ago.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask.”

  “Absolutely. However, today . . .” She plucked the contract from his hands and waved it at him. “I not only accept your contract but I accept as well the concepts of magic and fate. It does seem to me that particular concession goes well beyond compromise and is more in the realm of—”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and hard. Beryl was right. The reward was well worth the risk.