Her uncle looked from her to Sheridan. “All right. But I’ll be in the hall. And the door will remain open.”
Good Lord. She really had landed herself “in a delicate situation,” at least as far as Uncle Noah was concerned.
“Of course,” Sheridan said before she could. “We merely need to . . . settle some matters.”
With an understanding nod, Uncle Noah left them together.
Sheridan dragged in a heavy breath. “I don’t know if your uncle told you, but you and I must marry.”
The word must rankled. It implied that both of them were being forced, when she felt anything but that. “I don’t see why we must. The only people who saw us together were Mama and Uncle Noah, and it’s not as if they would tell anyone.” She wasn’t about to reveal the cruel things her mother had said about what she’d do if Vanessa refused him.
“Did your mother not tell you how they found you?”
“No. I . . . never thought to ask.” She’d been too worried about what would happen as a result.
“Your mother kept a watch on your garden to make sure you didn’t slip out. But when she noticed you always had your back to the window and weren’t doing any real gardening, she marched out and made your lady’s maid tell her where you were. Of course, Bridget thought you and I and Juncker were in my carriage, since that was apparently the plan. When your mother hurried to the front and didn’t see a carriage, she wasn’t quite sure where to go.”
This was bad, very bad.
Sheridan continued his tale in a somber tone. “Then your uncle arrived for his visit. His carriage had already passed Juncker a couple of blocks away. He’d assumed Juncker was leaving after visiting you. But your mother met him at the door and made him help her find you. So he caught up to Juncker and demanded to know where his niece was. Juncker hesitated to tell him, but not for long, as you might imagine. And that’s how they discovered where we were.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t see. I said all of that to illustrate why we must marry. It’s not just your mother and your uncle who know. It’s Juncker—”
“Who won’t tell anyone.”
“Are you absolutely sure of that? He was willing enough to tell your mother and uncle where you were. What’s to prevent him from putting the tale in one of his plays?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“You’re that sure of it,” Sheridan said. “Of him.”
She wasn’t. And she could read in his expression that he knew she wasn’t.
“Then there’s Bridget—”
“Who won’t tell either,” Vanessa protested.
“Come now, sweetheart. What do you think is going to happen to her now that your mother knows how she helped you?”
Vanessa began to work the sash of her gown through her fingers like a Papist working a rosary. At the very least, Mama would fire Bridget without a reference, and Bridget didn’t deserve that, especially not for helping Vanessa. The only way to prevent it would be for Vanessa to marry Sheridan, in which case Bridget could come work for her directly.
“And other servants know, too,” Sheridan said. “There’s my coachman, your uncle’s coachman, your butler, probably a couple of footmen . . . My point is if you and I don’t get married—”
“—someone will leak the gossip to the press,” she said dully, “and I will be ruined.”
“Yes. Now you understand.”
She could feel him watching her, feel him debating what else to say.
He stepped closer to her, keeping an eye on the open door. “Would it really be so awful for us to marry?”
“I think you should answer that.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re the one who used the words must marry, not I. I don’t need a man throwing himself onto a sacrificial fire for me.”
“And I don’t need a wife who has had her heart set on marrying another man. But neither of us has much of a choice, do we?”
Vanessa looked away. If she admitted she’d never wanted Mr. Juncker, Sheridan would throw in her face the fact that he’d caught her kissing the playwright a short while ago . . . and quite willingly, too. Or at least it probably seemed like that to him.
Even if she could explain that away and tell Sheridan the truth, he’d see her as a “scheming woman” who used Mr. Juncker to make him jealous . . . which she sort of was. Especially given that Sheridan had once told her he had no desire to marry. Ignoring what he’d expressly said so she could try to gain him as her husband definitely fell under the category of scheming. It wasn’t the best way to start a marriage.
Then again, neither was lying. Or rather, shading the truth. A lot. Knowing how much he would hate it. Oh, goodness, what was she to do?
“Well?” he asked. “Do you see a way out of this that won’t ruin you?”
A sigh escaped her. “Not one that would work.” And telling him the truth wouldn’t change that. She would just have to hope that in time she could seem to have transferred her affections from Mr. Juncker to Sheridan in a believable fashion.
“So,” he said. “We’ll be marrying, whether we like it or not.”
When he put it that way she wanted to cry. She had to do something to make this work. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I wouldn’t have returned your kisses if I hadn’t . . . thought well of you.” Oh, Lord, what a stupid way to put it. It sounded as if she barely knew him.
He could tell, for his jaw tautened. “I suppose that’s the most I can hope for under the circumstances.”
“I don’t want you to feel forced into this!” she burst out. “I know how little you wished to marry. And the thought of pushing you into a situation you never wanted—”
“I took advantage of you, sweetheart, remember?” he said kindly, brushing a curl from her cheek. “All you did was be in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong man.”
“You? Or Mr. Juncker?”
“All right. With the wrong men. What I’m saying is don’t worry about me.” His voice grew bitter. “Besides, I stand to gain a great deal more from the marriage than you. Your dowry will help my current . . . financial situation.”
“I get to be a duchess,” she pointed out. “Does that count?”
“I hope so. You’re going to be something of an impoverished duchess, I’m afraid. So if you wish to bow out, I would understand entirely. Although I don’t think it would be wise.”
“Yes, and we must always be wise, mustn’t we?” she said dryly.
“It’s better than the alternative, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose.” When he frowned, she added in a teasing voice, “Yes, Saint Sheridan. Much better.”
“Can I make one request then?” he bit out.
“That I not call you Saint Sheridan?”
“Exactly.”
“You can make it all you want,” she said lightly. “That doesn’t mean I have to grant it. Besides, I’ve been acquiring a full set of nicknames for you. Silent Sheridan. Studious Sheridan.” She gave him a saucy grin. “Seductive Sheridan.”
When he groaned, she laughed. Perhaps this would turn out well, after all. Or at least she would have fun in the process.
And it did mean she no longer had to worry about being forced to marry Lord Lisbourne. As Sheridan had said, when it came down to it, being forced to marry him was better than the alternative. Far better.
Chapter Twelve
Seductive Sheridan.
Sheridan would never forgive Vanessa for that parting remark, especially given that they’d had no chance to be alone in the past week. He’d heard those words a dozen times a day and even in his sleep, along with the provocative laugh that had followed it. Vanessa certainly knew how to keep a man on his toes. All he could think was that he’d soon get to play the part of Seductive Sheridan. Was it normal to be this excited about one’s wedding night?
He hoped she felt the same way. He should have told her how ridiculously pleased he was that she’d accepted his offer. Even though
he knew he couldn’t be the man she wanted. Even though Juncker, damn his hide, had her heart. Or perhaps just a youthful infatuation?
God, he hoped that was all it was. Particularly now that he was walking with two of his brothers and Vanessa’s uncle from Armitage Hall to St. Joseph’s Church in Sanforth, where he and Vanessa were to marry. The ladies had gone on ahead of them in a couple of carriages, his mother, Gwyn, Cass, and Olivia in one, with Vanessa and her mother in another, but none of the men wanted to ride to town on horseback in their finery, so rather than wait for the carriages to return, Sheridan had suggested they walk.
That suggestion was quickly embraced. It wasn’t terribly far, so Sheridan had often made the walk into town. Or he’d ridden Juno there. He sighed. He missed his morning rides.
Thorn came abreast of him as Heywood and Sir Noah became engrossed in conversation behind them. “Have you told her yet?”
“Told whom what yet?” Sheridan said.
“You know whom. And you ought to know what.” With a glance back to make sure the two behind them weren’t in earshot, Thorn said in a low voice, “Have you told Vanessa about why you’ve been questioning her mother so avidly?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Sheridan hissed. “I was barely able to convince her to marry me as it was. I certainly wasn’t going to bring that up. Besides, I haven’t been able to find out anything from Lady Eustace, so I dare not tip my hand until I do.”
Thorn snorted. “What makes you think you’ll be able to question Lady Eustace without telling Vanessa?”
“Trust me,” Sheridan said dryly, “it will not be a problem. All of a sudden I’ve become Lady Eustace’s favorite person. Which is ironic, considering that until I proposed to Vanessa, her mother hated me.”
“It’s the special license,” Thorn said, with a furtive glance back. “That always impresses the mothers.”
“Apparently.” But in his case, Sheridan wasn’t sure if it was because Lady Eustace assumed that such an extravagance meant he wasn’t as poor as she’d first feared. Or if she merely hoped the special license would ensure that the wedding would be talked about in the highest circles of society, making her the center of attention for months to come.
He wasn’t about to disabuse her of her notions by telling her the truth: He’d bought a special license solely because it meant they could marry fairly quickly. He’d feared that one of the many people who’d known about Vanessa’s tryst in the garden square might tell someone before he could make her a respectable married woman.
Sheridan wasn’t taking any chances. A wedding veil covered all sins.
“This is a delicate situation,” Sheridan said. “It just isn’t prudent to say anything to Vanessa at this juncture. After all, I might discover that Lady Eustace hadn’t been involved in any way in the death of Mother’s husbands. In that case, wouldn’t it be better that Vanessa never learn of my part in our investigation at all?”
Because if she did, she’d feel cheated, forced to marry a man she didn’t love for the worst of reasons—his inability to keep his hands to himself while he was investigating her mother.
“She seems a reasonable sort. You should talk to her.”
“Look,” Sheridan said under his breath, “let me handle my own marital affairs. Besides, don’t you have enough to worry about without being concerned about my own part in the investigation? Or have you already learned enough about Lady Norley’s whereabouts to vouch for her?”
Just as Sheridan had thought he might, Thorn didn’t like it when the shoe was on the other foot. “I . . . um . . . asked Olivia to question her mother.”
I know. “And has she?”
“Not yet.” A flush stained his cheeks. “It’s hard to find the right time, you understand.”
Sheridan smirked at his brother. “Oh, I understand very well.”
“Fine. Fine!” Thorn said. “I’ll stay out of it. Though I still say Vanessa could probably handle whatever you throw at her.”
Sheridan wished he could be sure of that. Especially when it came to their wedding night. Damn, why couldn’t he stop thinking about that?
He heard some giggling and looked over to see a group of girls dressed in white with flower crowns on their heads. One little girl stood in awe of the gentlemen passing by, wearing their finest. Sheridan tipped his hat to her, and she got shy, turning and running for her mother who was coming up the walkway. All of them bore baskets decorated with ribbons.
“What was that all about?” Thorn asked.
“This is how it is in a local village, especially if the ceremony and the bridal feast don’t occur in the same place. No matter how few the wedding guests, when they leave the church the entire village turns out to cheer and throw rice. They’ll follow us nearly all the way home after the wedding is over.”
“If you have a special license, why aren’t you simply marrying at Armitage Hall?”
“Because I need these people, and they need me. I don’t want some private ceremony that they’re not a part of. And Vanessa agreed.”
“I’ll bet her mother didn’t.”
“No, indeed.” He glanced back to see Sir Noah approaching. “Lady Eustace would have preferred the ceremony be performed at Windsor Castle.”
“He’s only half joking,” Sir Noah put in. “My sister would happily have kicked the king out of his lodgings if it meant Vanessa could have the wedding of the century.”
“And not a mere ‘village wedding,’” Sheridan said. “Fortunately, Vanessa and I prevailed.”
“Just so you know, Armitage,” Sir Noah said, “I reassured Lord Heywood that every t was crossed and every i dotted as far as legalities were concerned. I told him our respective solicitors hashed out a mutually suitable settlement for my niece, so no need to worry there.”
Sheridan gaped at his little brother. “What the hell, Heywood? Did you think I didn’t know well enough to have a settlement negotiated for my future wife?”
“I-I had to do one myself,” Heywood said while at the same time glaring at Sir Noah, “so I thought perhaps with the wedding being so hasty—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but I thought the settlement might have been . . . well . . . overlooked.”
“And you thought the best time to mention it was on the way to the church?” Sheridan shook his head. “If you’d been right—and by the way, I find it terribly insulting that you thought I would have ‘overlooked’ such a thing—but even if you had been, what could I have done about it now? Pulled Sir Noah aside for a quick settlement discussion? Then commandeered Bonham to draw it up in the back of the church while my bride and everyone else waited?”
When Thorn laughed at that, Sheridan turned on him. “What do you think is so funny? You’re no better, trying to give me marital advice before I even sign the church register.” He included Heywood in his frown. “Both of you need to mind your own business. It’s my marriage, my estate, and my soon-to-be wife. Stay out of it, understand?”
Thorn scowled at Heywood as they were walking. “See what you started?”
“Hey!” their baby brother answered. “You were the one giving him marital advice.”
“At least I had the good sense not to question Sir Noah about Sheridan’s settlement. You forget that our brother was trained in the art of diplomatic negotiation practically from birth. He was very good at it, as I recall.”
It was Sir Noah’s turn to laugh. “I must confess this is making me glad I never had a brother.” He paused. “Wait, who is Bonham again?”
“Man of affairs to the last three dukes of Armitage, including my half brother there,” Thorn said before turning back to Sheridan. “Bonham will be at your wedding? Does Mother know?”
Sir Noah’s amusement vanished. “Why does it matter if the duchess knows?”
“It doesn’t,” Sheridan said, sparing a warning look for his half brother and little brother. “And yes, she knows. She’s the one who insisted on inviting him, precisely because he’s been man of aff
airs to the last three dukes of Armitage.”
They’d reached Sanforth, but none of the brothers noticed until Sir Noah said, “Should I assume that this is the church?”
Sheridan halted, and his stomach began to churn. “Yes.”
“It’s larger than I expected for such a small village,” Sir Noah said. “Definitely suitable enough for a duke’s wedding.”
Even as panic hit Sheridan, he nodded. He and Helene had never progressed this far. After weeks of pain and struggle, she’d died of consumption on what would have been their wedding day. Leaving him with a broken heart that had never fully mended.
It was yet another significant moment in his life he hadn’t yet shared with Vanessa. But he would. Eventually.
The four of them entered the church and he froze. He hadn’t seen the women before they left. Now he was faced with the awe-inspiring sight of Vanessa resplendent in her wedding clothes. She stood at the front talking to his mother and stealing the very breath from his throat while he took her in.
Good God in heaven, how lovely she was. Sometimes in the midst of everything that had happened, he forgot that.
But today, she was spectacular. Her gown was of a blue so pale it looked like white, except when the candles were lit, and the shimmer showed it to be blue silk. Only then did he notice the lace dripping from her long sleeves, and the train of her gown lying twisted behind her, waiting for someone to straighten it.
She and his mother seemed to be having a very intense conversation. He searched the sanctuary for Lady Eustace, then relaxed when he spotted the woman chatting with Gwyn on the opposite end of the church. His female relations had all been instructed to keep the two mothers apart at any cost. He did not want a repeat of what had happened a week ago between the two women.
When he hurried to the front of the church, he saw his mother putting a string of pearls around Vanessa’s neck. He reached them within moments. “Mother, are those—”
“The Armitage pearls, yes.” She gazed fondly at Vanessa. “I know your father would have wanted your bride to have them.”
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