by Sue London
“You appear worried,” Jeremy confirmed.
“Well, weren’t you anxious at your wedding?” Quince accused the earl.
Gideon shrugged. “Of course. I hardly knew Jacqueline and you know I’m not one to back out of my commitments. Marriage, eternity with someone I didn’t know, was quite intimidating. You, however, know Sabre quite well. I assume you’re entering into this rather well informed.”
Quince knew, oddly enough, what he really wanted was Sabre. That she would know the right thing to say to keep his anxiety from overtaking him. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was so anxious.
“Perhaps today is a bad day to do this,” he heard himself saying.
The earl raised a brow. “My job is quite clear, and that is to make sure you are at the altar at the appointed hour. If I have to knock you out to do it, you know I will.”
Quince huffed out a breath.
Gideon stood and addressed Jeremy. “Make sure he stays here. I shall return.”
After Gideon left Jeremy said, “He won’t be gone long, so what is our plan?”
“What?”
“Obviously as your brother my first duty is to you, and you want to leave. I’m thinking perhaps you should don the vicar’s robes and escape out the back. If anyone tries to stop you, simply bless them and run on.”
Quince grinned. “I had no idea you had a sense of humor.”
“You doubt my seriousness?” the marquess asked with a moderately unsettled expression.
The duke paused. Perhaps what he had interpreted as a formerly unnoticed dry wit was actually dullness. Perhaps Jeremy not only had their father’s face but more of his personality than Quince had realized as well.
Then Jeremy’s lips twitched and he was shortly reduced to helpless laughter. “You should have seen your face.”
Quince lightheartedly chucked his brother on the back of the head. “Unruly brat.”
Jeremy smoothed his hair back in place, still laughing a bit. “Like I want the earl to hunt me down and thrash me.”
The door opened again and Gideon stepped back inside with a bottle and three glasses.
Quince groaned. “Must you act like alcohol solves everything?”
“I’m pragmatic. If it didn’t work, I wouldn’t do it.”
Jeremy jumped up to hold glasses for the earl as he poured.
“Just a bit of wine,” Gideon said. “It will help to settle you.”
“Good Lord, this is the sacramental wine, isn’t it?”
“The vicar was quite happy to part with it for a generous donation.”
“You may be going to hell,” Quince said, “you know that, don’t you?”
“With a name like Lord Lucifer? One suspects. But maybe not if I drink enough sacramental wine.” Gideon winked.
“Lord Lucifer?” Jeremy asked.
“Robert likes to nickname his friends,” Gideon said. “Which reminds me,” he turned to Quince, “while I was out there I suggested to the Bittlesworth brothers that they might need to be on the lookout for a runaway groom.”
Quince scowled. “I wouldn’t jilt Sabre.”
“As I mentioned, you made it my job to ensure that is true. So I have ensured it. Take another drink.”
Quince sipped some more of the overly sweet wine. After a few minutes he had to admit that his nerves had calmed a bit.
Gideon pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s almost time, if you’re ready?”
Quince handed back the wineglass and nodded.
Gideon gave the glasses and bottle to Jeremy. “If you could find the vicar and return these? I want a word with the duke.”
The young man nodded, finishing the dregs of wine so he could more easily hold all the glasses without spilling. Once the door closed, Gideon turned to Quince and put his hands on the duke’s shoulders.
“You can do this?” the earl asked.
Quince nodded. “I just… You know social occasions make me nervous. And it’s my wedding. And what if Sabre changes her mind?”
Gideon chuckled. “Do you seriously believe that could happen?”
“She left me before,” Quince pointed out.
“She left so that she wouldn’t throttle you for being an idiot. Trust me, she has my sympathies.” Gideon sighed. “But I will never forgive myself for not finding out what was bothering you the day of the duel, since it turned out to be blackmail by one of the darkest souls in England. What is bothering you now? Do you have cold feet or is it something more?”
“Just cold feet, I think. But this means that you’ll be even more intrusive than usual, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps a bit, although I trust Sabre to keep an eye on you.” Gideon’s expression became grave. “And trying to help you only repays you in some small way for all the times you fished me out of the gutter so that I could wake up in my own bed.”
“What are friends for?” Quince asked.
“Indeed. To the altar, then?”
Quince nodded. “I’m ready.”
Jack was able to enjoy Sabre’s wedding in a way she hadn’t her own. Her friends had chosen a small church outside London and the guest list had been held to less than a hundred. Leagues more attendees than her own wedding, but small for a typical ducal affair. When Sabre entered, beautiful in the white and celestial blue gown she had chosen, Jack had glanced at Quince. The love shining on both of their faces was clear to see.
The entire affair was lovely and Sabre had been surprisingly quiet and sweet. Jack honestly hadn’t known her friend had it in her. But it was clear that Quince brought out a tender and loving side that no one else ever had before. That could only be to the good, Jack thought.
Time flew as vows were exchanged and then the exuberant chords of the recessional filled the nave. Once they were in the vestibule, Jack heard a gasp and bump behind her. Turning, she saw George on the ground, petals and flowers scattered around her, her arm clutched to her stomach. Jack dropped her own bouquet and crouched by her friend.
“Georgie? What’s wrong?”
George had grown alarmingly pale. “I think I’m going to faint. Get Robert.”
Jack looked up at Sabre and the other Haberdasher shook her head in confusion.
Gideon knelt to pick up George. She gasped and held her ribs more tightly. At the change in angle Jack could see blood between George’s fingers.
Jack turned to the wedding couple. “Why don’t you two head to the wedding breakfast and we’ll take care of George.”
Sabre stepped forward, “But…”
Jack waved her off. “Don’t be silly. It’s probably just some sort of cramps. We’ll join you when George is feeling better.” Jack turned to Quince’s brother. “Jeremy, why don’t you make sure that the happy couple is settled at the breakfast while we let George rest for a minute?”
Sabre frowned but Jeremy nodded and did a credible job herding the Telfords out the door to the waiting coach. The door to the nave opened again and guests began pouring out. Gideon backed into an alcove of the vestibule, still holding George in his arms. George grabbed Jack’s hand in a shockingly firm grasp.
“Get Robert,” her friend commanded. “I need to talk to him. Now.”
Jack looked up at her husband. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She threaded her way through the attendees, politely shaking off those who wanted to express their happiness for the couple. She spied the Bittlesworth brothers standing against one of the walls of the nave, laughing amongst themselves. Not just Robert and Charlie, but Justin as well.
“Robert,” she said, pushing her way past the guests who had been leaving. He looked over to her, his expression becoming concerned.
“What’s wrong, Jack?”
“It’s George. She’s hurt and calling for you.”
He tensed immediately. “Where is she?”
“Gideon has her out in the vestibule. We need to find somewhere for her to lie down. She’s…”
“She’s what?”
“She’s bleeding and I don’t know why.”
Robert made a beeline for the doors, slipping through the jostling crowd. Jack and the other Bittlesworth brothers followed in his wake. He located Gideon in the alcove and moved George’s hands to inspect her side.
“What have you done, sweeting?” he asked. “I see blood but this fabric isn’t rent. When did you get this wound?”
“This morning,” George said, sounding frustrated. “I thought it was bound properly, but…” She waved her hand at the offending blood.
“I’ll take her,” Robert said to Gideon. Jack saw her husband look at to her with a raised eyebrow and had to nod. If George wanted Robert then she didn’t have any compelling reason to say no. Gideon gently transferred George’s weight into Robert’s arms.
“Charlie,” Robert said. “Get my carriage. You two,” he said, addressing the Harringtons, “and Justin should go to the breakfast and keep Quince and Sabre from noticing so many of us absent.” He looked down on George, his expression softening a bit. “She’ll be fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”
It was difficult to leave George in Robert’s care, but Jack let Gideon and Justin lead her out to the waiting carriages.
Sabre hugged Jack as soon as she saw her. “Where’s George?”
“She resting.”
“I’ve saved places at the table for each of you. Justin!” She hugged her little half-brother. Sabre thought that if she were any more full of good cheer that she might explode from it. She even hugged Gideon. “Quince is over there talking to some lords. I’m sure he would appreciate it if you saved him.”
Gideon bowed to her. “Yes, your grace.”
Sabre giggled and wrapped her arm around Jack’s. “I find that I like your husband better and better.”
Jack quirked an eyebrow at her. “How much wine have you had to drink?”
“Champagne. Provided by your husband, I’ll have you know. And just a bit?” She held up two fingers barely separated to indicate the teeny tiny bit. Although, perhaps, it was quite a bit more than that.
Jack kissed her temple. “You are a beautiful bride, Sabre.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, your grace.”
Sabre giggled again. “I’ve done a terrible thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I only call Quince ‘your grace’ when I want to point out what an idiot he’s being.”
Jack chuckled. “You’ve ruined your own honorary title.”
“I’m afraid so. Did you see Quince at the church?” She sighed happily. “He’s so handsome.”
“Yes, and right now he’s taking on the duty of circulating to the guests by himself.”
“I’ve already done that once, but perhaps a few new people have arrived.” Sabre looked around and saw her brother. “Oh! Charlie!”
When she rushed toward him he picked her up and spun her in a hug. With the champagne her head was truly spinning by the time he set her down. “How is my beautiful little bird?”
“Dizzy! Lud, Charlie!”
He laughed. “Silly girl.”
“Silly duchess,” she corrected. “Where is Robert? I want to rub in the fact that I outrank him now.”
He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. “He’ll be here soon, no doubt.”
She frowned. “Is he with George? She was calling for him.”
Charlie paused for a moment and then said, “Yes, he is. She wasn’t feeling well.”
“Are they… are they an item?”
Charlie laughed. “I have no idea. But I wouldn’t have thought so. At least, not before today.”
Sabre nodded. “Exactly. But, I suppose it’s possible.”
“Does that not meet with your approval, your grace?”
She poked him in the ribs. “You manage to say my honorary with even less respect than I do. But it is not for me to approve or disapprove. George will certainly do as she likes, regardless of my opinion.”
“True enough. Don’t look now, but I think a man is coming over here to bother you. If you like you can hide behind me. I’ll swear I haven’t seen you.”
Sabre looked up to see that the man approaching them was Quince. She happily stepped forward into his embrace.
“Hullo, love,” he murmured into her hair. “I missed you.”
She giggled. “I was only across the room.”
“Too far away, I assure you.” He kissed her briefly on the lips.
“You are scandalous, sir!” she admonished.
“You have no idea what I might be capable of. Shall we sit down to eat? It seems most of the guests are here now.”
“Yes, although I was hoping George would be here.” Sabre frowned. “Terrible of her to show up for an hour and then disappear.”
“I’m sure she’ll be along.”
George did appear within a quarter hour of the breakfast being served. She sat down in her assigned place a bit delicately. Sabre leaned out to look past Jack and Gideon to her. “Are you feeling better?”
George nodded, a pale but seeming in good spirits. Sabre still sensed something amiss, despite her friend’s assurances. Something in George’s posture, in her eyes. Whatever it was, she would soon worm it out of George. She’d always been able to get to the bottom of things. She always, as she had proved again today, gained what she wanted.
Sabre smiled up at her husband. “Now,” she said, “everything is perfect.”
Author’s Note
Thanks for reading the second book in the Haberdashers series! Don’t miss the first glimpse at the third book after this note. Fates for Apate: Haberdashers Book Three is about George meeting Casimir. You have no idea who Casimir is, you say? Well, you have to figure that George was off doing something while her Haberdasher sisters were busy getting married.
I’m a bit of history nerd, even though I insist that this sort of book is history fantasy and plenty of it is just made up. But when I can look up a bit of history to include it gives me a special thrill. What’s entertaining to me is that the pieces of history Quince and Sabre wanted to look at were completely different than Jack and Gideon’s interests. Remember all that political historical context? Not so much for these guys.
One of the first things that Sabre wanted to know was some place to eat. And I thought it would be neat if I could identify places that she could eat then and we could eat now. Fortunately, in 1815 there was the Epicure’s Almanac (the first comprehensive list of London eateries) and in 2012 The Guardian identified places that were still open. Believe it or not. (I always was a lucky duck) Check it out at http://www.theguardian.com/travel/2012/aug/20/london-historic-food-drink-bars So we (that means Sabre, Jack, and myself) selected the “George and Vulture” and “Twinings” to feature in the story. Since I’ve never been to either place, especially in 1815, all details are completely made up. If you go to the G&V looking for a private room they may not have one. But I certainly think it would be fun to look. Report back to me (@cmdrsue) if you find out!
Quince, on the other hand, made sure that I was much clearer on the art and poetry of the day. Although it doesn’t figure strongly in the plot I can assure you that he educated me on Romanticism. I think that he most likely exchanged letters with Keats, procured the 1814 copy of Shelley’s Queen Mab, and collected Friedrich from the beginning. With his love of poetry you can rest assured that he hates, hates his reading disability. (He doesn’t like to talk about it so I’m not even clear on exactly what the problem is yet. I assume at some point he will tell me.) He also bears a striking resemblance to the Romantic artist Turner, a fact I discovered shortly before this book went to press. It’s a little odd to stumble across an almost exact portrait of how you envisioned your character. You can see it at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Turner_selfportrait.jpg
They both, of course, had me read about fencing until my eyeballs were ready to fall out. They are concerned that I still don’t get it. And it turned out that they had a shared affection for t
heatre, especially Shakespeare. We’ll just say they kept me on my toes.
Oh! And if you love perfumes, you can frequent Floris London, just like Sabre. It’s been a perfumery since 1790. Still family managed and you can get a customized fragrance for a terribly reasonable price. They are online at http://www.florislondon.com
Thanks for reading!
About the Author
Sue London began writing short stories about horses and teen sleuths when she was seven years old. After that she traveled to distant worlds, fought with swords and sorcerers, and played with a few undead things. As you might have expected, this means she went into accountancy. Well, maybe that was an odd plot twist, but “that’s the difference between real life and fiction – fiction has to make sense.”
In her twenties she developed a deep affection for romance, especially enjoying the works of Nora Roberts, Mary Balogh and, most recently, Rose Gordon, Courtney Milan, Lauren Royal, Danelle Harmon, and Diane Farr. You can thank those authors for leading a sci-fi tomboy into writing historical romances set in the Regency period.
Keep up with Sue and the Haberdashers on these websites:
Haberdashers on Twitter: http://twitter.com/haberdashersfic
Haberdashers website: http://haberdashersfic.blogspot.com
Haberdashers Club (email list): http://eepurl.com/Bicsb
Sue on Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/bysuelondon
Sue on Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CmdrSue
Sue on Twitter: http://twitter.com/cmdrsue
For more on Sue you can check out her Sueniverse or be her fan on Facebook. You can also catch up on all her interviews at http://bysuelondon.blogspot.com/p/interviews.html.
If you would like to report issues in this version of Athena’s Ordeal, or in any books from Graythorn Publishing, please drop us a line at [email protected].
Fates for Apate (Haberdasher’s Book Three)
“Good greeting, lady of wily mind and wily snares! Not Hermes Hoax-the-wits himself can outdo you…” ~ Hera to Apate
“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.” ~ Niccolò Machiavelli
“Honor is purchased by the deeds we do.” ~ Christopher Marlowe
