Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas

by Putney, Mary Jo

  “Perhaps later in the season Miss Vangelder will have time,” Katie said as she deftly removed her charge.

  When they were out of earshot, Sunny said with awe, “Mr. Curzon is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen!”

  “Yes, but he’s a younger son with three older brothers, so he’s unlikely ever to inherit the title.” Lady Westron gave a warning look. “Not at all the sort your mother wants for you.”

  “But as a Member of Parliament, he actually does something useful,” Sunny pointed out. “My grandfather would have approved of that.”

  “Admiral Vangelder would not have wanted a penniless younger son for his favorite granddaughter,” Katie said firmly. “Come, I want you to meet Lord Traymore. An Irish title, unfortunately, but an earl is an earl, and he’s charming. You could do worse.”

  Dutifully Sunny followed her godmother to the next knot of guests, though she promised herself that she would slip off and view the famous water garden before she left. Until then, she would enjoy the color and laughter of the occasion.

  She was also guiltily glad to be free of her mother’s rather overpowering presence for a day. Augusta Vangelder was the most devoted and solicitous of parents, but she had very firm ideas about the way things ought to be. Very firm. Unfortunately, she was laid up in their suite at Claridge’s with a mild case of the grippe, so Sunny had the benefit of the more liberal chaperonage of her godmother. Not only did Lady Westron know everyone, but she made racy comments about them. Sunny felt very worldly.

  While a courtly old judge went to fetch them refreshments, she asked, “Where is the Duke of Thornborough? Since he ordered a special train to bring his guests from London for the day, I should at least know whom to be grateful to.”

  Katie scanned the crowd, then nodded toward the refreshment marquee. “That tall fair chap.”

  After a thorough examination, Sunny observed, “He’s almost as handsome as Mr. Curzon, and has a most distinguished air. Exactly what one would expect of a duke.”

  “Yes, and he’s delightfully witty, as well,” Katie replied. “Very prominent in the Prince of Wales’s Marlborough House set. I’ll introduce you to him later.”

  Sunny glanced at the other woman suspiciously. “Am I to be paraded in front of him like a prize heifer?”

  “No,” Katie said with regret. “Thornborough won’t do. His taste runs to ladies who are .rather excessively sophisticated. He’s expected to offer for May Russell soon.”

  “The American Mrs. Russell?” Sunny asked, surprised.

  “Mad May herself. She’s a good choice. Having had children by two husbands already, she shouldn’t have any problems giving Thornborough an heir, and her fortune is immense.” Katie gave a little sniff. “Heaven knows that Thornborough needs it.”

  Sunny's gaze shifted. “Who’s the man standing to the left of the duke?”

  Katie looked over. “Oh, that’s just the Gargoyle.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sunny glanced at her godmother, not sure that she’d heard correctly.

  “Lord Justin Aubrey, Thornborough’s younger brother, better known as the Gargoyle,” Katie explained. “He manages the duke’s estate, which means he’s scarcely more than a farmer.”

  A line etched between her brows, Sunny studied the dark young man. While not handsome, his face had a certain rugged distinction. “Why was he given such an unkind nickname? He’s no Mr. Curzon, but neither is he ugly.”

  “The Aubreys are known for being tall, blond and aristocratic, and Lord Justin is none of those things. He’s always scowling and has no conversation at all.” Katie smiled naughtily. “One would have to question what his dear mother had been up to, except that every now and then the Aubreys produce one like him. The youngest Aubrey daughter, Lady Alexandra, resembles him, poor girl. I imagine she’s around here somewhere. She’s known as the Gargoylette.”

  Sunny’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry to think that these handsome people have such cruel tongues.”

  “They are no more and no less cruel than New York society,” Lady Westron said dryly. “Human nature is much the same everywhere.”

  Sunny’s gaze lingered on Lord Justin. Though not tall, neither was he short. He looked to be of average height, perhaps an inch or two taller than she. She guessed that he was in his late twenties, but his stern expression made him seem older. He looked as if he thoroughly disapproved of the splendid gathering around him.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Katie exclaiming, “Lord Hancock is over there! I hoped that he would be here today. Come along, dear, you must meet him.”

  After another wistful glance at the gardens, Sunny obediently followed her godmother.

  * * *

  The eighth Duke of Thornborough sampled a strawberry from one of the mounds on the refreshment table. “Splendid flavor.” He reached for another. “You’ve been getting remarkable results from the greenhouses.”

  Justin Aubrey shrugged. “I only give the orders, Gavin. It’s the gardeners who do the real work.”

  “But someone must still give the right orders, and it isn’t going to be me.” The duke consumed several more strawberries, then washed them down with champagne. “Relax, Justin. You’ve worked for weeks to make my fete a success, so you should try to enjoy the results. Everyone is having a cracking good time.”

  “That’s fortunate, considering that this little event is costing over two thousand pounds.” Money which could have been much better spent.

  Gavin made an airy gesture. “The Duke of Thornborough has an obligation to maintain a certain style. After I marry May, there will be ample money for those boring repairs that you keep talking about.”

  Justin gave his brother a shrewd glance. “You and Mrs. Russell have reached a firm understanding?”

  Gavin nodded. “We’ll be making an announcement soon. A late summer wedding, I think. You can plan on fixing the roof directly after, so it will be right and tight by winter.” He cast an experienced eye over the crowd. “I see that Katie Westron has a lovely creature in tow. That must be the Gilded Girl. I hear she’s cutting quite a swath through London society. The Prince has already invited her to visit Sandringham.”

  “Then her social reputation is made,” Justin agreed with barely perceptible irony. “But who is the Gilded Girl?”

  “Sarah Vangelder, the fairest flower of the Vangelder railroad fortune.” The duke’s tone turned speculative. “They say she’s the greatest heiress ever to cross the Atlantic.”

  Justin followed his brother’s gaze to where the heiress stood talking with three besotted males. As soon as he located her, his heart gave an odd lurch.

  Sarah Vangelder was the quintessential American beauty: tall, slender and crowned with a lustrous mass of honey-colored hair. She also had an engaging air of innocent enthusiasm that made him want to walk over and introduce himself. A beautiful woman, not his. The world was full of them, he reminded himself.

  Aloud, he said only, “Very fetching.”

  “Perhaps I should reconsider marrying May,” Gavin said pensively. “They say Augusta Vangelder wants to see the girl a duchess. Should I offer her the noble name of Thornborough?”

  Justin’s mouth tightened. Though he loved his brother, he had no illusions about the duke’s character. “You’d find a young innocent a flat bore.”

  “No doubt you’re right,” Gavin agreed, but his gaze lingered. “She is very lovely.”

  Three peeresses and two Cabinet ministers came over to pay their respects to their host. Justin seized the opportunity to escape, for the noisy chatter was driving him mad. He would have preferred to be elsewhere, but he could hardly avoid a party taking place in his own backyard.

  Avoiding the formal parterre where many of the guests were strolling, he made his way to the rhododendron garden, which had been carefully designed to look like wild woods. There was a risk that he would find some of Gavin’s fashionable friends fornicating beneath the silver birches, but with luck, they would all be more
interested in champagne and gossip than in dalliance.

  Half an hour in the wilder sections of the park relaxed him to the point where he felt ready to return to the festivities. Not that anyone was likely to miss him, but he liked to keep an eye on the arrangements to ensure that everything ran smoothly.

  As he walked through a grove of Scottish pines, he heard a feminine voice utter a soft but emphatic, “Drat!”

  He turned toward the voice, and a few more steps brought the speaker into his view. He was surprised to see the Gilded Girl. But that was too flippant a nickname, for the sunlight that shafted through the pine needles made her honey hair and creamy gown glow as if she were Titania, the fairy queen. He halted unnoticed at the edge of the clearing, experiencing again that strange, unsteady feeling.

  A vine had snagged the back hem of Miss Vangelder’s elegant bustled walking gown, and she was trying to free herself by poking with the tip of her lace parasol. Any other woman would have seemed ungraceful, but not the heiress. She looked playful, competent and altogether enchanting.

  In the wooden voice he used to conceal unseemly feelings, he said, “May I be of assistance?”

  The girl looked up with a startled glance, then smiled with relief. “You certainly can! Otherwise, my gown is doomed, and Mr. Worth will be terribly cross with me if he ever finds out.”

  Justin knelt and began disentangling her hem. “Does it matter what a dressmaker thinks?”

  “Mr. Worth is not a dressmaker, but an artiste. I’m told that I was singularly fortunate that he condescended to see me personally. After examining me like a prize turkey, he designed every ensemble right down to the last slipper and scarf.” She gave a gurgle of laughter. “I was informed in no uncertain terms that any substitutions would be disastrous.”

  The vine was remarkably tenacious. As Justin tried to loosen it without damaging the heavy ecru silk, he asked, “Do you always do what others wish you to do?”

  “Generally,” she said with wry self-understanding. “Life is easier when I do.”

  Her skirt finally came free and he got to his feet. “I’m Justin Aubrey, by the way.”

  “I’m Sarah Vangelder, but most people call me Sunny.” She offered her hand, and a smile that melted his bones.

  She was tall, her eyes almost level with his. He had assumed that they would be blue, but the color was nearer aqua, as deep and changeable as the sea. He drew a shaken breath, then bowed over her hand. Straightening, he said, “You should not be here alone, Miss Vangelder.”

  “I know,” she said blithely, “but I was afraid that if I didn’t take the initiative, I’d leave without having a chance to really see the gardens.”

  “Are you rating them for possible future occupancy?” he said dryly. “I regret to inform you that my brother is no longer in the marriage mart.”

  “I simply like gardens, Lord Justin,” she said crisply, her aqua eyes turning cool. “Are you always so rude?”

  So the exquisite Miss Vangelder had thorns. Suppressing a smile, he said, “Always. I took a first in rudeness at Oxford.”

  Her expression instantly transformed from reproval to delight. “You have a sense of humor!”

  “Don’t spread such a base rumor around. It would utterly ruin my reputation.” He offered his arm. “Let me escort you back to the fete.”

  As she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, she asked, “Could we take an indirect route? I particularly want to see the famous water garden.”

  He knew that he should return her before her chaperon became concerned. Yet when he looked into her glorious eyes, he found himself saying, “Very well, Miss Vangelder.”

  As they started down the pine needle carpeted path, he was very aware of the light pressure of her hand on his arm and the luxuriant rustle of her petticoats. And her perfume, a delicate fragrance reminiscent of violets....

  He took a deep, slow breath. “I assume you are related to Admiral Vangelder?”

  “You’ve heard of my grandfather?”

  “It would be surprising if I hadn’t.” He held a branch aside so that she could pass without endangering her deliciously frivolous hat. “He was one of the great American success stories.”

  “Yes, and something of a robber baton as well, though he was always a darling to me. I miss him.” She chuckled. “He liked people to think that he was called Admiral because of his magnificent yachts, but actually, he got the nickname because his first job was tending mules on the Erie Canal.”

  “Really?” Justin said, amused by her artlessness.

  “Really. In fact, there are grave suspicions that his papa was not married to his mama.” She bit her lip guiltily. “You’re dangerously easy to talk to, Lord Justin. I shouldn’t have said so much. My mother would be horrified if the Admiral’s dubious parentage became common knowledge.” She grinned again. “Her own family has been respectable for at least a generation longer.”

  “Your secret is safe, Miss Vangelder,” he assured her.

  She gave him another entrancing smile that struck right to the heart. For a mad instant, he felt as if he was the only person who existed in her world. She had charm, this gilded girl, a quality as unmistakable as it was hard to define. He drew a shaken breath and returned his gaze to the winding path.

  Though she had said he was easy to talk to, in fact he found himself talking more than usual as they strolled through the park. He told her about the history of the estate, answered questions about the crops and tenants. Together they stood in the gazebo that was designed like a miniature Greek temple, and when they visited the picturesque ruins of an old monastery he described what the community would have been like in its heyday.

  She was a wonderful audience, listening with a grave air of concentration that was occasionally punctuated by an incisive question. After she asked about the effects of the agricultural depression on the farm laborers, he remarked, “You have a wide range of interests, Miss Vangelder.”

  “Education is something of an American passion. My father insisted that I have a whole regiment of tutors. Shortly before he died, he had me take the entrance exams to Oxford and Cambridge. He was quite pleased when I passed with flying colors.” She sighed. “Of course there was never any question of me actually going to a university. That would have been shockingly bluestocking.”

  At least she had been well taught. Like most English girls, his own sisters had received the sketchiest of educations. Only Alexandra, who loved to read, had a well-informed mind. The man who married Sunny Vangelder would be lucky in more ways than one.

  Justin had chosen a path that brought them out of the park’s wilderness area right beside the water garden. It was an elaborate series of pools and channels that descended across three levels of terraces before flowing into the ornamental lake.

  Sunny stopped in her tracks with a soft exhalation of pleasure. “Exquisite. The proportions, the way the statues are reflected in the pools, the way the eye is led gradually down to the lake. Masterful. And the grass surrounding it! Like green velvet How do the English grow such perfect grass?”

  “It’s quite simple, really. Just get a stone roller and use it on the lawn regularly for two or three hundred years.”

  She laughed and gave him a glance that made him feel as if he was the wittiest, handsomest man alive. His heart twisted, and he knew that he must get away from her before he started to act like an utter idiot. “I really must take you back now. Your chaperone will be worried.”

  “I suppose so.” She took a last look at the water garden. “Thank you for indulging me, Lord Justin.”

  Their walk had taken them around three sides of the palace, and it was only a short distance to the Versailles garden where the fete was being held. As they approached the festivities, a tall man saw them and walked over swiftly. It was Paul Curzon, who had been at Eton at the same time as Justin. They had never been more than acquaintances. Curzon had been active in the most social set, while Justin had paid an unfashionable amount
of attention to his studies.

  After giving Justin a barely civil nod, Curzon said, “Lady Westron has been wondering what happened to you, Miss Vangelder.”

  Her face lit up at his words. “I was in no danger, Mr. Curzon,” she said, her voice proper but her eyes brimming with excitement. “I’m an avid gardener, you see, and Lord Justin very kindly showed me some of the lesser known parts of the park.”

  In a careless tone that managed to imply that Justin was scarcely better than an under gardener, Curzon said, “You could not have chosen a better guide, for I’m sure that no one knows more about such matters than Lord Justin.” He offered Sunny his arm. "Now I shall take you to Lady Westron.”

  Sunny turned to Justin and said with sweet sincerity, “Thank you for the tour, my lord. I enjoyed it very much.”

  Yet as soon as she took Curzon’s arm, Justin saw that she forgot his existence. He watched them walk away together, two tall, blond, laughing people. They were like members of some superior race, set apart from the normal run of mankind.

  For the first time in his life, Justin found himself resenting Gavin for having been born first. The Sunny Vangelders of the world would always go to men like Gavin or Curzon.

  His aching regret was followed by deep, corroding anger. Damning himself for a fool, he turned and headed toward the house. Gavin’s fete could progress to its conclusion without him.

  Chapter 2

  Swindon Palace

  Summer 1885

  Justin stared out the study window at the dreary landscape, thinking that rain was appropriate for the day he had buried his only brother. After a gray, painful interval, a discreet cough reminded him that he was not alone. He turned to the family solicitor, who had formally read the will earlier in the afternoon. “Why did you ask to speak with me, Mr. Burrell?”

  “Though I’m sorry to intrude at such a time, your grace,” the solicitor said, “there are several pressing matters that must be addressed without delay.”