by Liana Lefey
Victoria snorted. “Two months, Amelia. That’s a far stretch for even the most forgiving imagination. One could nearly span the English Channel with it.”
“She did what she had to do,” answered Amelia, smiling faintly. “I might have done the same, had I been in her place. I considered myself fortunate to have escaped her fate. I did not, however, come away unscathed. Afterward, I was unable to trust any man save Papa. I couldn’t bear to see you endure the same misery. I had to protect you.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me? It would have made things so much easier between us.”
“I was too ashamed to tell anyone, much less my baby sister who looked to me as an example. Besides, by the time you were old enough to fully understand, I simply couldn’t bring myself to speak of it. All I wanted was to keep you safe and pretend that nothing ever happened between Sutherland and I. But then, when I saw you and Withington…” Amelia shrugged. “I just reacted without questioning it. I shouldn’t have, but I did.”
Victoria imagined how hurt she’d be if she ever caught Julius with another woman. “I’d have done the same, I suppose, had I been in your place. And I’m so sorry for the way I deliberately antagonized you. Had I known…”
“You only wanted what every woman wants,” her sister replied. “And I held you back because of my own fears. Papa’s traditional approach to matchmaking furthered my purposes in keeping you safe, and I encouraged him in it. It was wrong of me.”
Silence stretched between them for a long while, but it wasn’t a cold, uncomfortable silence. Victoria thought about everything that had happened since Mama’s death. So much had gone wrong. So much bitterness and resentment had built up in her heart. It is time to let go of past wounds—for us all.
As though Amelia had read her mind, she spoke: “Victoria, I would like us to be friends again the way we were before everything happened. I miss you. I miss us. Do you think it possible for us to begin again?”
The weight fell from Victoria’s heart as she embraced her sister. “Of course it is.”
Julius paced the length and breadth of the salon, his stomach in knots. He’d been cooling his heels here for the better part of an hour. What if Withington refused to meet with him? He grimaced. I did threaten to run him through, after all. Not for the first time, he regretted his hasty reactions of late.
“You forgot to bring your sword.”
Julius whirled to see Withington standing in the doorway with a bemused expression on his face.
“As you are unarmed, I can only surmise that you’ve come to explain what the hell happened,” said his friend, coming into the room. “Please, sit.”
“We have much to discuss,” Julius replied, taking a seat opposite. “But first, tell me how matters stand with you.”
“Badly,” said the other man. “Where should I begin? Let me see, now. First, I received a letter from Amelia refusing my proposal and calling me a bastard, and then I received another from you threatening my life. And neither provided any sort of explanation whatsoever. Next, I find London’s papers screaming scandal over the fact that you and Victoria are no longer engaged—again offering no explanation as to why. My bewilderment is complete.”
“Victoria and I are getting married. And so are you.”
Withington’s brows rose. “To whom, may I ask? As I said, Lady Amelia has unequivocally given me the boot.”
Julius grinned. “There has been a rather drastic change in our circumstances.” He told him of Amelia’s confession and last night’s harrowing escape. “This was all just a simple misunderstanding.”
“There is nothing ‘simple’ about it,” snapped Withington, rising. He stalked over to the brandy decanter and poured himself a glass. “She immediately assumed the very worst about me. And then she cut me off without giving me a chance to acquit myself of the charges. How can I possibly marry someone who has no faith in me?”
“But she knows the truth, now,” Julius insisted. “Her faith in you has been restored.”
“Restored? It was never there to begin with,” retorted Withington. “I’ve lied to her from the very moment we met. Now, in her mind, I shall always be looked upon as guilty until proven innocent. The slightest perceived infraction will call forth condemnation and mistrust. How could I ever be happy under constant suspicion and persecution?”
“She loves you.”
Withington hesitated for a moment, but then stubbornly shook his head. “If that is true, then why has she not written to me? Or better yet, why isn’t she here explaining things instead of you? Did she send you?”
“She does not know I am here. She’s likely too ashamed to come to you,” Julius suggested.
“Too proud, you mean.” Withington tilted his glass and took a large swallow.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Why the hell shouldn’t I mean it?” asked Withington bitterly. “She never saw me as worthy, and she never will. I thought to win her respect by telling her the truth. I failed. I thought to win her love by sacrificing my own dignity in order to save hers. I failed again. I’m done trying to achieve the impossible. She is a lost cause.”
Startled, Julius peered at him. “What has happened to you?”
“I’ve opened my eyes,” said Withington. “Amelia Lennox is a proud, arrogant woman who thinks she has the right to control and manipulate those around her. She thinks she knows what’s good for them better than they do themselves. Look at how she treated her own sister! I should have listened to Victoria when she warned me.”
“You’re wrong, Withy. Amelia said something to me once that led me to believe she had cause for—”
“I should use a great deal of caution when dealing with your sister-in-law, Julius. She told me a great many things, as well—things that I now hold highly suspect. I advise you to take everything she says with a very large helping of salt and keep as far away from the woman as possible. The first time she thinks you’ve put so much as a toe out of line, she’ll publicly disembowel you. At the very least, she’ll drip poison into your wife’s ear.”
Julius opened his mouth, but Withington again cut him off. “I’m sorry, Julius. It has been a very trying day, and I’m afraid that I am not quite myself. Allow me to congratulate you on your impending nuptials.” He lifted his glass and took another sip. “It is good to know that my sacrifice was not for nothing. That is some small satisfaction, at least.”
Seeing that there was no point in trying to convince him, Julius spoke no further on the matter. “I should be most grateful if you would stand by me when I speak my vows,” he said instead. “Amelia will be there, of course, but…”
“I am not so cowardly that I’d refuse to stand at your wedding because of her,” said Withington, his tone wounded. “No indeed. If anyone is to be uncomfortable, it is her, not I. I came clean about my part in the deception, told her how I felt, and left it to her to decide what came next. She has done so. And now she can live with that decision.”
“As you say,” agreed Julius mildly, choosing not to press him. No doubt he would rethink his position once he saw Amelia in person.
Withington chuckled. “Stop humoring me, Julius. I know you too well to think you’ll give up so easily. I beg you not to try and throw us together in the hope of repairing the rift. It won’t work. The differences between us are too great to surmount.”
“I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” Julius replied, putting on his most innocent face. “You must choose your own path, of course.”
THE DAY OF London’s most scandalous wedding dawned clear and bright as Victoria rolled onto her stomach and stretched. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. In just a few hours, she would be married.
“May I come in?” her sister said from the doorway.
“Of course!”
Entering, Amelia sat beside her. “I brought you something.”
Victoria stared as her sister proffered a familiar flat box, stared until her eyes swam with tears. “Amelia,
I cannot.”
“You can.”
Victoria opened the lid and beheld their mother’s diamond choker, the necklace she’d worn on her wedding day so long ago. “I would love to, Amelia, but Papa would be so hurt if I didn’t—”
“You will wear the pearls—in your hair. Now take this. I want you to have it.”
She shook her head. “I will only wear them today,” she compromised. “Mama bequeathed it to you specifically. You should wear it on your wedding day.”
Amelia’s eyes dimmed. “I doubt that day will ever come for me, Victoria.”
“Has there been no word?”
“I sent him a letter, but I’ve yet to receive any reply.”
“He is Julius’s best man and you are my maid of honor. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to—”
“Cause a scandal at your wedding by accosting a man who wants nothing to do with me? I think not. Papa would never forgive me.”
“My wedding is already a scandal,” Victoria said, laughing.
“All the more reason to avoid yet more,” her sister replied primly. “Besides, your intended already told me he’s spoken with him about what happened. He would say nothing more on the matter, only that the rest was up to me and Withington. Do you not think he would have approached me by now if he was still interested? But he hasn’t.” She looked down at the carpet and her voice grew suspiciously thick. “And he won’t. I burned that bridge behind me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s vowed never to even speak my name again.”
Victoria took up her sister’s hands and squeezed them. “You won’t know that until you see him.”
“Don’t you ever concede?”
“I should think you’d know the answer to that by now,” Victoria replied.
The moment she finished breakfast, her world was launched into barely controlled chaos. She stood as Amelia and Hannah helped her into her gown and fussed over her coiffure—and the pearls.
“I shall be eternally glad that Papa didn’t think to cancel the order for my wedding gown,” Victoria mused, turning before the mirror to admire her reflection. Yards of rich amethyst-and-silver brocade were spread across panniers wide enough to please the queen herself. Her eyes picked up the color, making them appear lavender. “If I am to wed in disgrace, at least I shall look like a proper bride.”
“No one will say a word,” reassured Amelia, fastening their mother’s diamonds about her throat. “And so what if they do? If anything, you may attribute any malicious gossip to jealousy. Not only have you managed to bag a Cavendish, but yours is truly a love match.”
A knock sounded at the door, and they heard their father’s voice through the wood. “May I come in?”
“Of course, Papa,” Victoria said, smiling. Everything had changed between them. The forgiveness she’d extended to her sister had spread in her heart like a contagion to include him as well. Her smile dimmed only a little as she spied the box in his hands. Oh, no…
He paused upon espying the glittering jewels about her neck. “Your mother’s necklace.” He looked to Amelia. “I did not know—”
“It is only on loan,” Victoria explained, shooting Amelia a quelling look.
He pursed his lips and handed her the box. “Well, perhaps you’ll wear these later.”
She opened it, and sure enough, it contained pearls—unusual, dark pearls that shone with a deep amethyst-and-rose sheen. There was a necklace, a wide bracelet, and earrings—all perfectly matched. “They are beautiful, Papa,” she said. And this time she actually meant it. “I’ve never seen the like.”
“Pearls were your mother’s jewel of choice,” he said softly, reaching out to touch them. “She liked them better than any other, even diamonds. She admired their warm light and smoothness. Said they reminded her of the seaside where she was born and lived as a child, of happy times. When you were born she called you her perfect little pearl.”
Victoria felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Mama had called her that all the way up until she’d asked her to stop because it embarrassed her so.
“Every time I see you wearing them, it makes me think of how happy she was the day the midwife placed you in her arms. She bequeathed them to you, you know—her pearls. You were too young to witness the reading of the will, but I have followed her wishes faithfully and have on each birthday given you something from among her treasures. This is the last,” he said, gazing down at the box in her hands. “Fitting that her very favorite should come to you on your wedding day.”
Tears sprang into her eyes, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. She hadn’t known…
The pearls—all of them she had received over the years—suddenly took on new significance. He had given them to her out of love and memory, not out of spite.
Reaching behind her with trembling hands, she undid the clasp on the diamond necklace and handed it back to Amelia. “I thank you for your thoughtfulness, but…”
Amelia smiled gently. “I understand.”
Victoria smiled back as her sister reached down, took the pearls, and helped her put them on.
Julius sat in the church vestibule with Withington, waiting for the arrival of his bride and her family. His brother and sister-in-law had dragged themselves to London for the event. Though William had been pleasant, Katherine had been cold and aloof. The taint of his hasty marriage was not to be borne lightly, apparently.
She’d retaliated by announcing his brother’s impending fatherhood.
Despite her intent to dash his hopes of ever inheriting the title, however, the prospect of becoming an uncle had only filled Julius with joy. Please let it be a boy, he prayed. He’d be free of the dukedom forever if it was a boy. As he’d told Withy at the start of the Season, he had no ambitions to the title. Holker Hall was more than enough for him.
He thought about becoming a father himself, and his smile stretched in a wide grin.
“You look awfully pleased with yourself,” said Withington.
“I am,” he replied. “You know, I owe you a very large debt, Withy. If you ever need anything, you have but to ask.”
The other man turned to him with a faint smile. “I ask only that no one ever again require me to assist in a matchmaking scheme.”
Julius chuckled. “Well, you certainly won’t have to worry about me ever asking, that much is certain.” Then, in a more serious tone: “Why don’t you give her another chance?”
Withington sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”
“I know, but that was before she sent the letter.”
“Yes, she sent a letter,” snapped Withington. “And I sent it back. Unopened. And how do you know about it?”
“Victoria told me. She and Amelia have mended the rift between them. She said Amelia was heartbroken over the loss of your regard,” he added, hoping.
But Withington’s expression remained unchanged. “I have no desire to read a list of excuses. Now, let us say no more on the matter, lest I ruin your happy day.”
“But you’ve been miserable—”
“I really don’t wish to discuss it,” cut in Withington. “Now”—he nodded at the door, which had just begun to open—“I believe you have a wedding to attend.”
Having no choice, Julius held his tongue and rose to follow the clergyman that had come for them. A murmur rippled through the room as he went to stand at the front of the aisle. His sister-in-law smiled a nasty smile as he passed and placed a hand over her swelling belly.
He smiled back and winked at her, causing her brows to jump in surprise before colliding back together in a scowl of confusion. God, let it be a boy…
A hush suddenly fell.
Turning, he faced the rear of the church—and forgot everything but the sight of his bride as she began to make her way down the aisle.
Victoria’s stomach fluttered as the door opened, and she looked out on the crowd as it turned toward her in anticipation. Despite the scandalous circumstances surrounding her marriage, every seat was filled. There w
ere even people standing around the sides of the room.
Amelia was already at the front, waiting to attend her, eyes fixed upon her as she moved closer. Only the stiffness of her posture gave away the fact that she was upset. On the opposite side of the aisle stood Julius and Withington—who looked as though he would rather be anywhere but here.
A shadow of sadness fell on her heart. Though she was elated over her marriage to Julius, she could not help it. It wasn’t right that they should be so unhappy on such a joyful day. There had to be a way…
The moment passed as her father stepped forward and presented her to Julius.
Heart full, she spoke her vows before the assembly, and before she knew it, it was done. Julius bent and claimed her with a kiss, and she became Lady Cavendish.
Amid the festivities that followed, she found Withington standing to the side, his normally smiling mouth drawn into a bitter line as he stared at nothing.
Enough is enough. Going over to him, she drew him aside. “Dance with me,” she commanded loudly enough for those around to hear.
Forced to it, he grudgingly complied.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his expression wary as they joined the others.
“Good, because I don’t either,” she said lightly. “I don’t want to discuss how I’ve heard her crying every night since the incident occurred, or how sad she has been over the fact that you sent back her letter unread. I certainly don’t want to talk about how broken her heart is.”
Stopping in the middle of the floor, he stared at her. “I know you mean well, but I must ask you not to interfere. This matter is between Amelia and myself.”
“Is it?” she countered. “You once interfered on mine and Julius’s behalf. Now it is my turn to interfere on yours and Amelia’s. She made a mistake—” He turned away, but she grabbed hold of his sleeve and refused to let him go. “No! You will hear me out even if I have to shout the roof down around your ears and embarrass myself and everyone present. I cannot stand idly by and watch her die inside all over again!”
