Henry Saunders had indeed found the love of his life and there was nothing he could do about it.
CHAPTER THREE
WHAT AN ABSURD SITUATION. What a ridiculous thing to have happened.
Celia Bromley paced the width of the room allotted her in Danby Manor. She wasn’t sure how it had happened—it certainly wasn’t intentional. Fate was no doubt to blame. Of course, if one believed in fate, then this was even worse as—
A knock sounded at her door.
“Come in,” she said with relief. A distraction from her own thoughts would be most welcome.
The door opened and Aunt Guinevere popped her head in. “Are you busy, Celia? Might I join you for a chat?”
“Of course, Aunt Guinevere.” She could think of nothing better to take her mind off Henry Saunders’s brown eyes and engaging smile. “Please come in.”
Aunt Guinevere stepped into the room, closed the door behind her and looked around. “My, this is lovely.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Celia smiled.
She’d never in her life had a bedchamber this nice. Of course, she’d never had one quite so large, either. No, the rooms at home at Bromwick Abbey were neither as gracious nor as beautifully appointed as those here. Danby Manor was most impressive and the abbey had seen better days. But then that was the price one paid when one’s home was more than five hundred years old, had started life as a humble monastery and had never had an owner interested in more than a modest expansion.
“No wonder Katherine and Miss Quince had insisted on arriving well in advance of the wedding,” Aunt Guinevere said, still surveying the room.
Katherine and Aunt Frances had thought it best to take up residence at Danby a full month before the wedding with the excuse that there was a great deal to be done. There was indeed, but Celia was certain the lure of elegance and comfort to be found at the manor was ultimately responsible for the family’s lengthy stay.
It would have been much better for all concerned if they just sent the bride and her aunt. But of course that would never do. There were questions of propriety about two unmarried women residing in the same house with two unmarried gentlemen—no matter how grand the house. Regardless of his other failings, Father was a stickler for propriety when it came to the reputations of his daughters. Pity he hadn’t been a bit more concerned about his own reputation—especially when it came to matters of finance. But Father had never quite grasped the idea that once his inherited funds were expended, there would be no more without some sort of effort on his part. Nor did he seem to understand gambling was perhaps not the best method for acquiring an income—especially if one was not particularly skilled or lucky. Fortunately, her grandfather had recognized this flaw in his heir and had set aside funding—managed by inflexible solicitors—to provide for schooling and minimal dowries for his granddaughters as well as a small, untouchable trust that provided an extremely modest yearly income. Not large enough to claim their place in society but sufficient to keep a roof over their heads.
“I am sorry I didn’t see more of you when you were in London.” Aunt Guinevere settled in one of two matching lady’s chairs positioned by the window that overlooked the back garden.
“As am I but it couldn’t be helped,” Celia said with a smile. “We were only in London for a few months and we did manage to see each other twice.” Even that had been difficult to arrange. Neither Father nor Aunt Frances had ever liked Aunt Guinevere but then Celia was fairly certain the feelings were mutual. But she and Aunt Guinevere wrote frequently and that was nearly as good as seeing one another in person.
“And did you enjoy your stay?”
“Oh, Aunt Guinevere, it was truly wonderful.” Celia leaned toward the older woman. “I went to the Tower and the Zoological Gardens, and the Society of Antiquaries museum, and Madame Tussaud’s, and Soane’s Museum and, well, everywhere. I spent a great deal of time at the National Gallery and the British Museum.”
The older woman bit back a smile. “I believe you mentioned some of that when we met in London.”
“Probably, but it’s worth repeating.” Celia grinned. “I think I could quite happily spend every day for the rest of my life going back and forth between the National Gallery and the British Museum.”
“There are worse ways to spend your life.” Aunt Guinevere smiled. “The British Museum is where I met your uncle Charles, you know. We were both attending a lecture on Etruscan artifacts.”
“I intend to live in London one day,” Celia said firmly.
That she had managed to visit London at all was something of a miracle and due entirely to Aunt Frances. Unbeknownst to anyone else in the family, Aunt Frances had received a small inheritance. She had wisely kept her windfall to herself as Father would have insisted she contribute to the family coffers given he provided a home for her. Regardless, at the beginning of the new year, Aunt Frances had decreed they would reside in London for several months in an effort to find a wealthy, well-connected husband for Katherine—who was not getting any younger—and hopefully Louise and Celia as well before all three girls became spinsters and remained their father’s responsibility for the rest of their lives. Father agreed without hesitation. The idea of three less people demanding he give up his foolish ways and do something of worth with his life was irresistible to him. And, as Frances had the money to pay for letting a London residence, it seemed an excellent plan.
Unfortunately, London society was not overly interested in sisters aged twenty-four, twenty-three and nineteen no matter how lovely or accomplished they were. Still, Aunt Frances was determined to see at least one—if not all three girls—wed and did manage a few invitations, mostly for Katherine and Louise. Katherine had done her part by meeting and enchanting the brother of an earl, who reportedly had a significant income, even if he was not her first choice. Celia had no illusions about her older sister. Katherine was almost as clever as she was mercenary. She immediately realized she did not appeal to the earl and set her sights on his brother.
“I know I would never want to live anywhere else.” Aunt Guinevere paused. “Will Katherine and Henry be living in London after they’re wed?”
“I believe so. Henry and his brother manage the family business interests and Henry has a lovely house in Mayfair.”
It was at Henry’s house that Celia had discovered the gentleman she’d had a chance conversation with at a bookstore, the man she couldn’t get out of her head, was soon to be her brother-in-law. He had already asked for Katherine’s hand and had invited the rest of the family and his brother to join him for dinner. It was an evening of revelation in any number of ways.
For one thing—Henry Saunders wasn’t at all the type one would have thought would appeal to Katherine. He was handsome in a quiet sort of way but not the kind of man one read about in novels of romance or adventure. One did not swoon with immediate passion when meeting the calm, self-possessed Mr. Henry Saunders. He was obviously intelligent and scholarly and somewhat restrained, in contrast to his brother, who was brash and amusing and worldly.
Indeed, upon one’s first meeting one might have thought Henry entirely too somber, even cold in nature. Until one gazed into his brown eyes and saw compassion and intelligence and all manner of wicked amusement. And the oddest sort of recognition. As if he saw something in her no one else had ever seen. The moment he touched her hand, the strangest sense of awareness shot through her as if she had just met her fate. It was at once terrifying and exciting and utterly hopeless.
“He seems quite pleasant.”
Celia’s gaze shot to her aunt’s. “Who?”
“Why, Henry of course. Mr. Saunders.” Aunt Guinevere’s brow arched upward. “Were we speaking of someone else?”
“No, of course not. Sorry, my mind must have wandered.” Precisely as it had done since the moment she’d met Henry. She drew a deep breath
in hopes of regaining some semblance of composure. “Henry is very nice and very clever and a man of honor.”
“Not the kind of man to go back on his word, then?”
Celia shook her head. “Good Lord, no.”
No, she thought sadly, Henry Saunders was not the type to rescind an offer of marriage even if he discovered his fiancée was petty and greedy and not an especially nice person. Even if he realized he was making a horrendous mistake.
Even if the look in his eyes when his gaze met his fiancée’s younger sister’s matched the feelings in that sister’s heart.
Henry was as fine a man as Celia had ever met and deserved better than Katherine. But, although Katherine, and Louise as well, had never considered Celia anything other than a mistake on their father’s part, Celia could not bring herself to tell Henry that Katherine’s interest was more in his family’s position and his fortune than it was in him. Family, after all, deserved one’s loyalty even if members of that family had done nothing to warrant it.
“One might say a moment of dishonor,” her aunt said slowly, “might be worth avoiding a lifetime of misery.”
Celia frowned. “What do you mean?”
Aunt Guinevere reached out and took Celia’s hand. “What I mean, my dear child, is that Henry Saunders gives every appearance of a man in love.”
“Not surprising.” Celia’s stomach lurched. “He is, after all, to be married in a week.”
“Celia dear—” Aunt Guinevere paused to gather her thoughts “—I have been married for more than twenty-three years and in love for longer than that. I have learned to recognize that feeling in other people. It’s really not hard if one pays attention. But few people do. Especially not in this house. Except perhaps for the earl.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Celia lied.
“I’m talking about the way Henry looks at you and the way you look at him.”
“Oh, well, that’s really not...”
“Even Poppy and Effie noticed. We discussed it right before I came to speak to you.”
Celia started to deny it but her aunt would never believe her. “It scarcely matters.” She drew a deep breath. “Regardless of how I feel about him, of how he might feel about me...it’s pointless. Surely you see that?”
“What I see is a man about to plunge into a lifetime with a woman I suspect he doesn’t even like.” Her brows drew together. “Has Katherine always been this—Oh, I don’t know what the word is. So many come to mind.”
Celia bit back a smile. “I’m afraid so.”
“And does she usually look at you as if there was something quite vile about you?”
Celia laughed. “It’s not that bad.”
Aunt Guinevere stared as if she’d just realized—or perhaps accepted—something quite awful. “I have done you a terrible disservice.” She shook her head. “I should have rescued you from that household years ago. Between those dreadful half sisters of yours and the frightful Miss Quince—can you ever forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Celia shrugged. “I was away at school most of the time. I’ve only resided at the abbey since I graduated. And Father isn’t so bad. Although it’s not especially gratifying to realize your father is not the cleverest man in the world.”
Aunt Guinevere choked back a laugh.
“Neither Katherine nor Louise has ever liked me, which bothered me a great deal when I was young but I had Mother then.” Celia paused. It had been seven years since her mother had died but there were moments when the grief was as fresh as if it had been yesterday. “After she died, I realized it was silly to continue to try to earn their affection, and besides, I didn’t like them, either. Aunt Frances, on the other hand, was never of any concern as she has always disliked everyone equally.” Celia grinned. “Except Father of course.”
“Even so—”
“Come now, Aunt Guinevere.” Celia pinned her with a firm look. “I am not ill-treated. I am not the heroine of some sad little fairy story. There is no need for you to feel the least bit sorry.”
“Very well, then, I won’t.” Her aunt paused. “But after the wedding, I want you to come live with me and Charles in London.”
“Live in London?” Celia’s breath caught.
“You did say you wished to live in London.”
“Someday perhaps but...” But why not now? “Very well.” She grinned. “There is nothing I would rather do.”
“Excellent.” Aunt Guinevere beamed. “Although I should warn you, it will frequently be just the two of us as Charles is always off on one exploration or another.”
“I know.” Celia considered the older woman. “I must say, I have always admired your independence.”
“I assure you, it often looks better from afar,” Aunt Guinevere said wryly. “And as much as I would miss the kind of freedom I have, I would sacrifice it without a moment’s hesitation to see more of my husband.”
“But you do so well alone.”
“I have friends, Celia. There is nothing better than friends. Unless of course it’s family.” She frowned. “Should I tell your father you’re coming to London or do you wish to?”
“Goodness, Aunt Guinevere, I’m nineteen years old, an adult fully capable of making my own decisions. I shall tell him. I daresay Father will be delighted at having one less female around.”
“Then that’s settled,” Aunt Guinevere said firmly. “Now then, we need to determine a way to stop this wedding.”
“Stop the wedding?” Celia stared.
“Of course.” The older woman nodded. “You are in love with him, aren’t you?”
“I...” Celia considered the question. She’d never been in love before but surely that was what this was. “Have you ever met someone and the very moment you looked into his eyes you knew that he was the one person in all the world for you? Knew without doubt or question as you had never known anything in your life before?”
“Once.”
“Then yes.” Celia shrugged helplessly. “Much to my dismay, I am in love with him.”
“And I would wager a great deal he is in love with you, as well. Which means we can’t possibly let poor, dear Henry marry Katherine. He’ll be miserable for the rest of his life and she will probably be fairly unhappy, as well. No, it’s best for all concerned that we find a way to stop this wedding.”
“Absolutely not.” Celia jumped to her feet, spurred as much by guilt as shock. Hadn’t the same thought occurred to her? “That would be wrong.” She paced. What was her aunt thinking? She swiveled toward the other woman. “The scandal would cast a shadow on everyone’s lives, including Henry’s and his brother’s.” She resumed pacing. “Regardless of how we feel about one another, Katherine is still my sister. I would hate to ruin her wedding, not to mention her life.”
“From what I’ve observed it’s fairly obvious her life, as well as his, will be ruined if they do marry. Barring death, marriage, my dear girl, is forever.”
“Henry will never go back on his word. It’s just not in his nature to do something like that. He’s far too honorable and kind and...” Her aunt was right. Henry and Katherine certainly weren’t in love. A bit of scandal versus an entire lifetime of unhappiness, well, it was something to consider. One might say it would be a favor to both of them to stop the wedding. Of course, Katherine would never see it that way. Still, wasn’t it Celia’s duty really to help her sister avoid spending the rest of her days in a loveless, ill-fated union? She paused in midstep. “How?”
“How?”
“How would you stop the wedding? Not that I think you should,” Celia added quickly. “I am simply curious.”
“I don’t exactly know how. Yet.” Aunt Guinevere’s brows drew together thoughtfully. “It would have to be subtle.”
“I will have no p
art of it,” Celia warned.
“Extremely discreet,” Aunt Guinevere murmured, obviously already working on an idea.
Celia stared. The woman was as diabolical as she was independent. There would be no stopping her now.
“Nor do I want to know any of the details.”
“Absolutely right, my dear.” Aunt Guinevere nodded firmly. “Your hand should be nowhere near this. We’ll come up with a plan. Something clever and subtle and perfect.”
Celia groaned. “Good Lord, Aunt Guinevere. You sound positively wicked.”
“Nonsense, Celia, I’m not at all wicked.” Aunt Guinevere grinned. “But I do try.”
Day Two
CHAPTER FOUR
“I TELL YOU he’s losing interest in me.” Katherine’s voice sounded faintly from Miss Quince’s room. “He’s not nearly as enthralled as he was.”
Gwen caught herself, her hand a scant inch away from knocking on Miss Quince’s door. The door stood the tiniest bit ajar, cracked open so slightly Gwen doubted the inhabitants of the room were aware of it. In spite of her best intentions and the certain knowledge that no one ever heard anything good when one eavesdropped, Gwen leaned closer to the door.
“Good Lord, Katherine.” Miss Quince huffed. “I would think you of all people would be able to keep a man’s attention.”
Gwen winced. She could well imagine the look on Katherine’s face.
“How was I to know it would even be necessary?” Katherine snapped. “It never occurred to me his attention would lag.”
“Perhaps if you were more the loving and attentive fiancée—”
“Loving and attentive?” Katherine scoffed. “He is lucky to have me. I am not the kind of woman who happens along every day. Especially not for someone as ordinary as Henry. Men like Henry rarely have women like me on their arm.” She sniffed. “He should be grateful.”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen Page 37
