The Wedding Season

by Deborah Hale

“Hungry?” The captain gave him a quirked smile inviting…friendship?

  Philip coughed out a laugh as he rose to his feet. “I hardly think Lady Bennington wants me to join the party for breakfast.”

  The captain shrugged. “Probably not. But you are welcome to stay in my home until this matter is settled. Bennington’s solicitors should be here in a few days.”

  Philip stepped back and bumped into the pew. “Do you mean it, sir?” He felt like a schoolboy invited into a secret society.

  The captain’s gaze narrowed. “I never lightly offer my hospitality.” His voice held a warning edge, and Philip could imagine many a midshipman cowering before the man.

  “N-no, sir.” Philip wanted to salute, but he’d never been in the navy, so the gesture would look ridiculous. “Thank you. I accept.”

  The captain tilted his head toward the door. “Come along, then. You have a horse?” The man’s light tone encouraged Philip.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve ridden fairly hard these past days, switching out horses at inns along the way.”

  “Ah. Then you can ride in the carriage with my family, and my groom will see to the beast.”

  Outside the picturesque stone church, Captain Moberly presented Philip to his pretty American wife, his lovely daughter Miss Elizabeth and his equally appealing niece Miss Prudence. Philip settled into the landau across from the three ladies and beside the captain, hoping he wouldn’t have to make conversation. After all, what could he say to this family whose peace he’d just shattered?

  Good manners dictated that Elizabeth pay attention to their guest, and in truth she had no difficulty doing so. Before Di had been swept away by her mother, she had whispered that Mr. Lindsey seemed dreadfully common, but Elizabeth disagreed in the extreme with that assessment. His conduct was unreservedly proper, even charming, if one could call shyness in a gentleman charming. She felt her own measure of shyness as he tried to give Mama his full attention, but his gaze kept returning to her. And she had difficulty restraining herself from sneaking glances at his handsome though unshaven face.

  No, no. She must not do this. She must not encourage his glances. Must guard her heart, must not squander it on an untitled gentleman, however nice he might be.

  “Tell us of Gloucestershire, Mr. Lindsey.” Mama always mispronounced such county names, insisting upon including every syllable, as Americans were wont to do.

  Mr. Lindsey seemed not to notice. “It is quite beautiful, ma’am. We have a fine cathedral and many charming parish churches. The River Severn runs past our land, and we’ve a view of the Cotswolds to the east, with the Forest of Dean and the Malvern Hills on the north.”

  Elizabeth hid a smile at his rote recitation, which revealed his nervousness as nothing else could.

  “We’ve a busy seaport, and our main export is wool.” He clamped his lips shut, and his eyes grew round, as if he thought he’d spoken too much.

  Mama hummed with interest. “What a lovely, concise tour you’ve given us. Just the right information to inspire my interest in traveling there.”

  Mr. Lindsey’s charming grin beamed his gratitude for Mama’s graciousness. But then his expression grew serious, and he looked across the landscape thoughtfully.

  Papa caught Elizabeth’s gaze and tilted his head toward their guest. She knew what he wanted. At home she always quizzed their guests and showed great curiosity about their homes, especially if they were from London. But she did not wish to know about Gloucestershire, for it was in the opposite direction from London and far too provincial to capture her interest. Nor did she wish to know more about this courageous man, despite the fact that he had risked much for his sister’s sake.

  She sent Papa a tiny frown, but he narrowed his eyes, giving her a steely, warning look. His “captain look,” as she and her brothers and sisters called it. She huffed out a quiet sigh and searched for a suitable question to ask their guest.

  “Tell us about your sister, Mr. Lindsey.”

  The gentleman’s troubled gaze returned to her, and he smiled. “I fear I am the wrong man to ask, for I can speak of her only in superlatives.”

  Elizabeth’s heart tried to do a merry country dance over his delightful comment, but she silenced the music. “Humph. You speak very prettily about her. You should give lessons to my three brothers, for they insist I am still the pest they claim I was in childhood.”

  The gentleman laughed, and his blue eyes twinkled. “Miss Elizabeth, I’d be happy to school your brothers in how fortunate they are to have such a charming sister.”

  Her gaze strayed to Papa, whose eyes now were lit with merriment, his “I told you so” look.

  But Elizabeth could think only of how dangerous this man was…to her heart.

  Chapter Four

  Philip forced his eyes away from the young miss whose merry glances at her father suggested a warm relationship between them. Unless Philip was mistaken, that bode well for his mission. He had limited experience outside of Gloucestershire, but the calm spirit he observed in this family gave him hope. He raised a silent prayer of thanks for God’s provision in sending him a supporter in Captain Moberly, although he mustn’t assume anything.

  He risked another look at the two young ladies. They were equally pretty, each in her own way. Both possessed thick golden curls and lively blue eyes, but the configuration of their countenances varied slightly in nose and chin and cheekbones. A small dimple graced Miss Elizabeth’s left cheek near her lips when she smiled. A natural beauty mark kissed Miss Prudence’s right cheek near her eye. Given a choice, a man would have difficulty deciding which young lady was the more beautiful.

  What was he thinking? He hadn’t come here to admire the local females.

  An unnerving suspicion crept into his mind. Surely the captain didn’t plan to divert Philip from his quest for justice by this offer of hospitality. Surely Moberly and Bennington hadn’t found time to conspire against him in those few moments outside the church.

  No, he must not think this way. His mind was too scattered by this matter and the two other distressing situations at home.

  Lord, these are large burdens for my inexperienced shoulders. Please give me wisdom. As before, the answer seemed to be Trust Me and deal with one problem at a time.

  “Ah, here we are.” Captain Moberly stared off to the right. “I never tire of the view when we come home to Devon Hall.”

  Philip followed his gaze. Across a vast green lawn planted with numerous flowerbeds stood a magnificent three-story house, its gray stone Palladian architecture sparkling in the sunshine. A long, tree-lined drive shot from the main road directly to the front door, and soon the carriage reached its destination.

  Servants poured from the house, along with more dogs and children than Philip could count. He managed to follow the captain from the carriage and lend his hand to the young ladies without mishap while the captain assisted his wife. Philip then stood back to await instructions from his host…and to observe the chaos.

  While the spaniels barked and jumped, two tiny boys clung to the captain’s legs and begged to be picked up, and a pretty miss of perhaps six years attached herself to Mrs. Moberly. A dark-haired young lady emerged, followed by a shy girl of perhaps ten or twelve.

  As he attempted to sort it out—somewhat—Philip could barely keep from laughing at the merry madness. The captain and his wife employed no such restraint, for both doled out generous kisses and hugs and laughter, making certain no child was missed. One would think they’d been separated from their grandchildren for a month instead of just a few hours. And the young ladies participated in the melee with equal enthusiasm.

  “Belay that!” The captain’s laughing voice boomed above the bedlam.

  Everyone stopped. The children giggled.

  “Mr. Lindsey.” Moberly beckoned to Philip.

  Philip stepped through the crowd. “Yes, sir?”

  The captain proceeded to make introductions and explanations. He and Mrs. Moberly had six children, thre
e of whom were married, and these were a few of the grandchildren, staying here while their parents traveled. The dark-haired lady was the governess. Philip noticed with admiration that the captain announced each child’s name as if he or she had just won the derby. Philip had never met anyone who introduced his small children to guests. Other families kept them in the nursery and schoolroom until they were presented to society.

  Surely such a warm-hearted family man could be trusted to do the right thing, even for a stranger.

  Elizabeth watched their guest with interest. He had not appeared the slightest discomfited by the children or the dogs. An admirable trait, to be sure. Few young men who had courted her older sisters had looked as comfortable amidst the Moberly mayhem.

  The children were sent back to the nursery, Papa ordered his valet to assist Mr. Lindsey and Mama instructed Cook to prepare a breakfast. With everything completed, the adults gathered in the drawing room.

  Mr. Lindsey’s former calm now disappeared as he sat forward and clasped the carved oak arms of his chair, and his dark eyebrows bent into a frown.

  “Miss Prudence, Miss Elizabeth, it just occurred to me. I am the cause of your missing Lady Bennington’s breakfast.” His sincere tone underscored the sorrow written in his eyes.

  Elizabeth traded a look with Pru. “Never mind, Mr. Lindsey. We see our cousins all the time.”

  “And there will be other parties this summer,” Pru added.

  Papa sent an approving nod their way. “Indeed. The roads are deeply rutted between here and Bennington Manor.”

  It seemed to Elizabeth that Mr. Lindsey’s sun-browned cheeks deepened in color, but with the morning light streaming through the windows in his direction, she could not be certain. She did observe that his anxious expression softened.

  “You are most kind, ladies, Captain Moberly.” He relaxed into his chair. Almost slumped, in fact. How tired he must be.

  Breakfast was announced, and they proceeded to the morning room and helped themselves from the buffet.

  Elizabeth’s mouth watered at the mingled aromas of coffee, eggs, sausages and fresh bread. Seated across from Mr. Lindsey, she noted his flawless manners, as fine as any she had observed among her titled relatives and their guests. Papa’s valet must have shaved him, for his black stubble had disappeared.

  Once again, she noticed his well-made clothing, but also the calluses on his hands. Not too conspicuous, just enough to show he performed some sort of work. But then, Papa and her brothers also had calluses because Papa insisted they must make themselves useful around the property. So it was not necessarily a sign he wasn’t a true gentleman. And his hair, now combed, appeared recently trimmed.

  Oh, stop it!

  Such musings were ridiculous. She really must cease thinking about him. Once the matter with Mr. Whitson was settled, Mr. Lindsey would return home to Gloucestershire. Which, she reminded herself, lay in the opposite direction from London, where she fully intended to go next spring. Papa might not see any value in his daughters having a Season, but where else could she find a titled husband? Rare was the occasion when an unattached peer of the Realm visited their neighborhood.

  As she frequently did, Elizabeth rehearsed the reasons for her quest. Children born into the aristocracy were sheltered from many of life’s troubles. They received the best education and had access to the best physicians when they were ill. Titled men sat in Parliament and made important decisions affecting the entire world, even history itself. Their wives owned the responsibility of supporting charitable institutions, as her step-grandmama, the late Dowager Lady Bennington, had so generously done. With a titled husband, Elizabeth would be able to provide for her children and benefit her country. Surely no one could find fault in her reasoning.

  Then why did she feel so drawn to Mr. Lindsey, who could give her none of those things? No. She tore her traitorous gaze from him once more. She must resolve to wed only a peer. But she had a feeling she would have to post a heavy guard around her heart while in the gentleman’s presence. Her future—and that of any children she might have—depended upon it.

  Chapter Five

  Philip resisted the urge to tug at his cravat or shift in his chair. But he did cast a wary eye at the family seated around the long oak table. During the entire time the captain’s valet had shaved him and freshened his clothing, Philip had tried to discern exactly how much influence Moberly might possess. He appeared to have a comfortable relationship with Bennington, but he’d also deferred to his elder brother, the bride’s father, in their brief conversation at the church. Should the earl set his mind against Philip…but he wouldn’t think of that. Lord willing, justice would prevail against Whitson.

  As Philip had descended the staircase, he’d heard the musical laughter of Miss Elizabeth and Miss Prudence coming from the morning room. Now seated across the table from the young ladies, however, he sensed a reluctance on the part of Miss Elizabeth to engage in conversation. He shouldn’t expect anything more, should turn his attention to the more amiable Miss Prudence, who joined Captain and Mrs. Moberly in extending the kindest hospitality to him in conversation. But he was forced to admit it was the reticent young lady who stirred his interest.

  “And so, Mr. Lindsey,” Captain Moberly said, “you trust your younger brother to attend to matters at home? How old is this lad?”

  “Yes, sir, I do trust him.” Philip recalled with a smile Charles’s intense concentration as he’d listened to his parting instructions. “He’s eighteen but quite competent.”

  The captain nodded his understanding. “I have commanded midshipmen of eighteen who could master their responsibilities capably.”

  This bit of comradeship boosted Philip’s confidence in Moberly. While he couldn’t grasp why the man would befriend him, he’d accept this as a gift from the Lord. Cautiously accept it. Perhaps the captain was merely keeping an eye on him until the matter was settled.

  The atmosphere of this sunny room bolstered his spirits, as did the aromatic coffee and delicious breakfast fare. Recalling the proverb that warned against gluttony in the presence of a king, Philip didn’t surrender to his ravenous appetite but slowly ate his tasty sausage and eggs.

  “Tell us more about your sister, Mr. Lindsey.” Mrs. Moberly’s placid smile seemed at odds with her probing gaze.

  Philip swallowed a bite and sipped his coffee, stalling to keep himself from blurting out that Lucy didn’t deserve the ill treatment Whitson had shown her. That she deserved a true-hearted man. That if Philip were not a Christian, he’d call the man out, no matter the laws against dueling, an option he still might consider. But he wouldn’t confess it here. Mrs. Moberly was not at fault for Whitson’s treachery, and Philip wouldn’t unleash his anger or threats upon her.

  “My sister is a gentle girl, ma’am.” Unexpected emotion rose in his throat, and he downed another gulp of coffee. “Too trusting, I fear.” Knowing he must stop before he said too much, Philip glanced around the table.

  The eyes of each lady held sympathy and glistened with a hint of tears. Captain Moberly glowered. For a moment Philip feared he’d angered the man.

  “It’s insupportable.” The captain fisted one hand on the table. “I will not rest until…” He pursed his lips. “This afternoon Bennington will send to London for his solicitors. If you wish to engage your own man, now is the time.” One eyebrow rose. “I would not embarrass you, sir, but if you require assistance—”

  “Ah. No, but I thank you, sir.” Philip withheld a laugh. “I can manage.” No sense in telling the man how far off the mark that offer was. “I’d be most grateful if you would pray for my sister and myself.”

  Now the captain’s eyebrows arched. In the corner of his eye, Philip noticed a movement across the table and turned to see Miss Prudence give Miss Elizabeth a playful grin.

  “Yes, of course.” Moberly sent him a sober nod. “That goes without saying.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Moberly said.

  Miss Prudence nu
dged her cousin.

  Philip couldn’t quite gauge the expression on Miss Elizabeth’s face. The slight smile on her perfectly formed lips indicated her approval, and the appearance of her dimple sent a pleasant tickle through his chest. But those lovely blue eyes held…puzzlement? A hint of sorrow?

  What on earth could be distressing this lovely young lady? Protectiveness surged up in his chest, and he longed to help her. Perhaps in these next few days before the solicitors arrived, he could befriend her and discover the cause of her unhappiness. With the house full of people and countless chaperones available, surely no one would consider the gesture improper.

  Elizabeth’s heart sank even as her esteem for Mr. Lindsey rose. She must, must, must not be attracted to this man, this truly remarkable man. She could see the pain written across his face for his sister and his determination to set things to right, just as Elizabeth’s father and brothers would should she be treated so shabbily. But his request for prayer, something she never heard outside her immediate family, firmly established Mr. Lindsey’s character in her mind. And Pru’s teasing grin did not help Elizabeth’s attempts to stave off her soaring admiration for the gentleman.

  Even now, his kindly gaze in her direction stirred her feelings and sent warmth up her neck into her cheeks. She surrendered to a smile but could think of nothing to say.

  The morning room’s side door swung open, and Elizabeth’s brother James strode in and walked directly to the buffet. “I say—” He popped a bite of sausage into his mouth before filling his plate. “—what a morning. That fellow who stopped the wedding certainly provided a smashing bit of entertainment. Poor Sophie wept all the way home. Nobody said a word at Auntie Bennington’s breakfast and—”

  “Ahem.” Papa’s voice boomed across the room, accompanied by Mama’s “James!”

  “Jamie!” Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed with mortification for Mr. Lindsey.

  “What?” Jamie turned around, and his eyes settled on Mr. Lindsey, whose face had reddened beneath its sun-browned surface. “Oh.” Jamie’s boyish grimace resembled that of a child caught stealing a cake. Then he shrugged. “Sorry, old man.” He walked around the table and put his plate down at the setting beside Mr. Lindsey’s, then reached out to him. “Do forgive.”