Don't Tie the Knot

by Bianca Blythe

“Well, then she’ll have to tell servants if she sees wrinkles so they can correct it,” Mama said, though it seemed obvious that she’d only said that to be correct.

  Finally, the coach halted.

  “Mr. Butterworth and I will greet the minister,” Mama said. “Wait five minutes, girls. We need to make sure the duke is not at the entrance. He mustn’t see dear Charlotte before the wedding ceremony begins. Who knows what might happen?”

  “That is really no concern, Mrs. Butterworth,” Papa said. “If the man had changed his mind, we would not be sitting here now.”

  Their parents left, still arguing amiably, and Georgiana was left alone with her sister.

  This was the last time she’d be alone with Charlotte before she married. They’d been alone hours upon hours before this, but these minutes felt monumental.

  “I’m so very happy for you,” Georgiana said.

  “Thank you.” The words were appropriate, but Georgiana wondered whether Charlotte’s eyes should sparkle more. Instead, her fingers trembled, a less reassuring action.

  Despite Georgiana’s unmarried state, she imagined that some nervousness would be normal.

  “I’m certain the duke will take excellent care of you,” Georgiana said, using her most reassuring voice.

  “He has been most agreeable,” Charlotte said.

  Georgiana nodded.

  Agreeable wasn’t precisely the word Georgiana would select to describe a future husband, but then, despite their shared proclivity for romantic stories, Charlotte was perhaps too timid to pontificate on her betrothed’s qualities like some Shakespearean heroine tasked with a soliloquy.

  “I hope you’ll be very happy,” Georgiana said, certain she should be offering some words of wisdom, but aware she had none. She opened the carriage door and descended the steps, waiting for Charlotte to do the same. “And don’t mind the man’s brother.”

  “Lord Hamish Montgomery?” Humor emanated through Charlotte’s voice. “Why on earth are you thinking of him at a time like this?”

  “I found him...unpleasant.” Georgiana tossed her hair, though soon regretted the action. Sudden sharp movements were unlikely to benefit her updo.

  Charlotte nodded, but her eyebrows seemed to have ascended to a placement a trifle higher than was their natural perch.

  Hmph. Georgiana’s cheeks were definitely warmer than they had been previously. In fact, even the back of her neck seemed to have risen several degrees, as if they’d driven into Cairo, and not merely Hanover Square.

  She should refrain from further babbling.

  Georgiana was quite certain Charlotte didn’t need to spend the last moments of her unmarried life listening to criticisms of her ever-impending brother-in-law.

  After all, the marriage was happening.

  They were here, and Charlotte looked magnificent in her very best gown. The ivory color suited her.

  “You look beautiful. Let’s go to the church.” Georgiana helped her sister from the coach. She adjusted Charlotte’s veil and floral crown and then gave Charlotte her bouquet.

  They strode toward the church. The elaborate portico and columns gleamed under the bright light. Curious onlookers smiled at them, no doubt recognizing that Charlotte was a bride.

  “And now for the start of the rest of your life,” Georgiana murmured.

  Charlotte gave her a soft smile, but the sides of her eyes didn’t crinkle, and Georgiana wondered again whether there was any chance Lord Hamish Montgomery might be correct after all.

  She shook her head.

  The thought was obviously impossible.

  Georgiana followed Charlotte up the steps to the church. No music wafted from the inside, but birds chirped merrily.

  All the same Georgiana’s heartbeat had decided to quicken, sending blood throughout her body at a normally unnecessary pace. Perhaps she should say...something. “You don’t have to marry him.”

  Charlotte’s face wobbled, but then she smiled. “Naturally.”

  They embraced, and a few of the people outside clapped.

  “Come, let’s get inside before the duke and his brother arrive. We can speak to the minister.” Georgiana placed her hand on the door handle and pushed.

  The door didn’t budge, and she pushed again.

  And again.

  “I’ll try it.” Charlotte brushed her veil away from her face, and blonde wisps of hair spilled over her forehead.

  This wasn’t how Charlotte’s wedding was supposed to go.

  “Perhaps there is a different entrance,” Georgiana said hopefully.

  The statement seemed an absurd one. What other entrance could the minister have intended them to use?

  She glanced at the onlookers. “This is where the brides normally enter?”

  The onlookers nodded, appearing puzzled, and her heart sank.

  THE COACH JOSTLED ON the way to the chapel, and Hamish whistled. Perhaps yesterday morning had not gone well, but fortunately his list had comprised multiple methods. He attempted a more complex melody, hitting each note exquisitely.

  His brother widened his eyes and removed his glossy hat. “Are you happy?”

  “Perhaps,” Hamish said nonchalantly.

  “On my wedding day?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good,” Callum said with a skeptical tone that was entirely deserved. He ran his fingers along the brim of his top hat and then adjusted his boutonniere. He seemed to exude nervous energy.

  “Those flowers are most flamboyant.”

  “It’s a special occasion,” Callum grumbled. “Not a regular occurrence.”

  “I hope not,” Hamish said. “I don’t like being dragged to London. The ride is unpleasant.”

  “England is beautiful.”

  “Not in—”

  “Comparison with Scotland,” Callum said. “I know. You’ve—er—mentioned it. I suppose you’ll be there soon enough.”

  Hamish flushed. Perhaps it had been forward of him to travel with his bag, but he abhorred the thought of remaining in London. Remaining in London might cause him to call on Miss Georgiana Butterworth, and that would be dreadful. He would be able to catch a stagecoach in Smithfield Market and be rid of this town.

  “Well, it would do you well to remember Scotland,” Hamish huffed, “given your position as one of Scotland’s premiere nobles.”

  Callum gave a tight smile.

  “You could still change your mind,” Hamish said.

  “I know.”

  Hamish raised his eyebrows.

  “I mean, obviously it’s a possibility. That’s just common sense,” Callum said. “We’re not yet linked to each other.”

  “For all eternity,” Hamish said.

  Callum shifted his legs. His expression seemed to grow more serious, and he moved his head toward the window.

  Hamish leaned back.

  If Callum flinched when Hamish described the wedding as lasting for all eternity, well, that was a sign the marriage shouldn’t be happening.

  People married for duty all the time, especially when their names came with fancy titles, but they did not marry virtual commoners. Was his brother madly in love with Miss Charlotte Butterworth? It was a question that should have been meaningless. Weren’t romances confined to penny dreadfuls, such as by Loretta Van Lochen, that were essentially fairy tales? Marriages were legal contacts that were vital to the functioning of society. Perhaps at times love was involved, but that was hardly a necessary ingredient in a successful marriage. Still, some romance-filled people might revolt against his realism, but surely that only pertained to cases in which love existed.

  He smiled and stretched nonchalantly. The guilt that had accompanied him from Scotland dissipated, and he relaxed against the sumptuous pillows.

  Callum looked at him curiously, as if he were expecting Hamish to make another protest, but Hamish refrained from doing so.

  It would all be over soon.

  The Butterworths must be already at the chapel. He almost sighed.
He didn’t want to hurt these people, though he supposed his ancestors had not retained, much less achieved, their wealth without focusing on their goals.

  Miss Butterworth was no concern of his, he reminded himself. It didn’t matter how pleasantly the light fell on the contours of her cheeks, and it certainly didn’t matter that her brown eyes sparkled.

  She’d wasted his precious time, leading him to believe she was marrying his brother. If she had done the decent thing and told him, he could have made the same offer to Miss Charlotte Butterworth. Perhaps she would have had some sense; after all, someone must be in possession of it, since the rest of her family seemed devoid of the quality.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Darling!” Her mother’s scream sounded from around the corner.

  Georgiana and Charlotte dashed toward the sound. Evidently, they must have been at the wrong entrance. Relief moved through Georgiana, but when they rounded the corner of the stone building, her mother was frowning.

  “The minister isn’t here!” Mama exclaimed. “How curious.”

  “Londoners,” their father said. “I knew we should have gotten her married off in Norfolk.”

  “But this should have worked!” Mama clasped her hands together. “He must be late.”

  “It seems like there will be a delay,” the duke said.

  “A delay!” Mama howled. “There must be someone inside!” She banged on a stained-glass window.

  “No need to destroy church property.” Papa guided her away, and her mother settled down inelegantly on the stairs.

  Mama’s legs tapped nervously, and she beat her fan with vigor, as if more to dispel nervous energy than to keep herself cool.

  Georgiana’s heart tightened.

  There was only one person who could be responsible for this, and she did not for one moment think that person was the minister.

  Mr. Hamish Montgomery.

  She should have warned everyone about him. He’d managed to stop this wedding. She wasn’t certain how, but she was confident it had occurred.

  Fiddle-faddle.

  If only she’d warned Charlotte.

  Why, she should have told her parents. Or even the duke himself. The man was amiable enough. Having a brother intent on sabotaging a wedding, even if it entailed risking his own reputation, should have been the type of news to intrigue him. Instead, she’d talked of the weather, even though he only had to pick up any broadsheet to read about the farmers’ worry about the lack of sun.

  She’d thought that by keeping Charlotte away from Lord Hamish Montgomery, she was ensuring that he would not have a chance to convince her not to marry his brother. Instead, he’d concocted another way to stop the wedding.

  “It will be fine,” Mama said, even as her feet continued to tap a nervous rhythm. “Something for Charlotte to tell her grandchildren.”

  Her father murmured agreement, but Georgiana paced the outside of the church.

  The onlookers had definitely gotten suspicious now.

  Georgiana felt self-conscious in her finest attire. Most people who dressed in silk and lace didn’t do so to stand in front of locked churches at ten o’clock in the morning. Everyone knew that the ton seldom made an appearance before the afternoon.

  A carriage rolled up, and two men stepped out.

  The Duke of Vernon was here and dressed in his finest.

  That had to be a good sign. It must mean that he intended to marry Charlotte.

  “Your Grace! Your Grace!” Georgiana’s mother rushed toward the two men. “My dear boy.”

  “What’s all this?” The duke’s blue eyes were the symbol of concern, and Georgiana felt her shoulders relax.

  It would be absolutely fine.

  Perhaps the minister was in fact inside and he had taken the sudden urge to pray in peace, and they would all laugh about it during their wedding breakfast.

  That was likely it.

  “Where is my bride?” the duke asked.

  “You mustn’t see her!” Mama practically threw herself over Charlotte. “It’s bad luck.”

  “It seems you’ve already had bad luck,” Lord Hamish Montgomery said. “I’m certain having my brother see the bride will not add to that.”

  “Oh, you are a gentleman, My Lord,” her mother breathed, fanning herself. “Isn’t he, my dear Georgiana? How lucky Charlotte is to be gaining you as a brother. How deeply fortuitous.”

  Georgiana glanced at him. The man seemed calm.

  Was it possible that the man was too calm? Suspiciously calm? And why did he seem to know what was going on?

  This was, after all, the man who had climbed through her balcony window, hauling more money than she’d seen in her lifetime and attempted to bribe her to call off the wedding. This was the man who’d spent the day before his brother’s marriage attempting to malign his own brother.

  He planned this.

  Perhaps he’d locked the minister up in his home. Perhaps he’d bribed him. The man had been carrying about a sack with ridiculous amounts of coin.

  “The minister isn’t here,” Mama wailed. “How terribly odd. And some person told us there was a problem with the banns, but I’m certain that must be a mistake.”

  “It must be a misunderstanding,” the duke said, though Georgiana noted that his eyes drifted to his brother.

  He suspects.

  “Looks like you’ll have to arrange it for another day,” Papa said.

  “Oh!” Mama clapped her hands together. “That will give me more time to plan. It will be the wedding of the season! Of the decade!”

  “I think Princess Charlotte has already claimed that honor,” Papa said.

  “Such a pity,” Mama said.

  The duke cast a worried glance at Charlotte. “I don’t think we should wait.”

  “How romantic!” Mama clapped her hands together. “Do something, Mr. Butterworth.”

  Papa nodded. “I’m going to track down this minister.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Lord Hamish Montgomery said hastily, and the two men soon disappeared into the Butterworth coach.

  Mama sighed contentedly, though Georgiana was not in the least bit confident that the duke’s brother would do anything to assist the situation.

  She swallowed hard and approached the duke. “I must speak with you.”

  “The dear boy is upset,” Mama said. “He doesn’t have time.”

  Georgiana inhaled. “It’s important.”

  “Very well,” the duke said. “We can test the doors of the church again.”

  Georgiana’s mother frowned. “But that’s all. I don’t want you stealing the duke from underneath poor Charlotte’s nose.”

  “That won’t happen,” Georgiana said.

  Mama continued to look dubious.

  “Let’s check the back doors first,” Georgiana said.

  The duke nodded, and they rounded the corner.

  It was the first time she’d been alone with the duke, and Georgiana was well aware this couldn’t precisely count as being alone. There were many people in the square. More of the ton had begun to make their morning calls, and some of them looked curiously in their direction.

  Likely it was obvious that they were dressed for a wedding.

  “Your brother wants to stop the wedding,” Georgiana blurted, once they were out of her mother’s vision.

  She tilted her head up at him.

  The duke didn’t blink.

  He certainly didn’t flinch.

  No surprise seemed to show on his face at all.

  “You knew,” she said.

  “No,” the duke said. “But the minister isn’t here, and that’s the sort of thing to make a man suspicious, given his lack of enthusiasm.”

  “Then...”

  She couldn’t ask him if the duke still intended to marry Charlotte. Perhaps his brother had convinced him.

  The duke gave her a sad smile. “I’m not changing my mind.”

  Relief swept through her. “Good. I’m sorry to spea
k ill of your brother. I thought you should know—”

  “You were right to tell me.”

  She nodded, but her face felt tight.

  Leaning a bit closer, he scrutinized her. “What are you not telling me?”

  “I told you everything,” she said, raising her chin.

  “How exactly do you know my brother was trying to stop the wedding?”

  She shifted her feet, wishing her silk slippers were somewhat less thin.

  “Perhaps you’re making it up,” the duke said sternly.

  “No,” Georgiana said hastily. “He thought I was Charlotte and tried to bribe me.”

  “He didn’t have much time to do that,” the duke said.

  “Er—no.”

  The duke furrowed his brow. “The driver of his rented post chaise presented himself before my brother arrived. Hamish said he had been wandering the streets. But perhaps he was attempting to stop the wedding?”

  “If stopping the wedding involved climbing up to my balcony and breaking in,” Georgiana said. “And then offering me coin as a bribe to not hold the wedding.”

  “Damnation,” the duke said.

  “But to be fair to him,” Georgiana said. “It was a lot of coin.”

  “That in no manner improves things,” the duke said, his voice firm. “Thank you for informing me.”

  “So once you clear up whatever issue there is with the publication of the banns with a new minister, you can marry again. That should just take a few days.” Georgiana beamed.

  They could wait a few days. The important thing is, now the duke knew to be careful, and he wasn’t upset with her.

  “I don’t want to wait a few days,” he said.

  Georgiana sighed. “I know. It’s a shame. I’m not sure how you can get a new license more quickly. There may be a way.”

  “I’m not interested in marrying here again.” His lips twitched. “Or rather, I’m not interested in attempting to marry here again.”

  She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve always liked the idea of elopement.”

  “Truly?”

  He nodded. “Let me speak to Charlotte.”

  Excitement thrummed through her. “Can I do anything to help?”

  “You can make certain my brother does not follow us.”