A Lady's Guide to Rakes (28 page)

“But he was a viscount!”

“Yes, but a penniless lord on the run from the dun collectors. He eventually married an heiress some ten years his senior, who keeps him under lock and key in the wilds of Cornwall.”

A hint of a smile twitched Beth’s lips.

“So, you see, he never loved either of us. He cared naught except for himself. ‘Tis the way with rakes.”

Then Meredith saw something she’d never seen before—a tear trickling down Beth Augustine’s freckled cheek.

“My heart breaks for what I have done to you, Meredith. It wasn’t enough for me that Pomeroy left you standing at St. George’s. You didn’t seem to suffer, as I had. You held your head high and endured the shame.”

“I did suffer, Beth. And what Pomeroy did to me haunts me, affects me to this very day.”

“I didn’t know that, though.” Beth sniffled, then turned her dark eyes up to Meredith’s. “When I saw what was written in your book of notes, I knew I held in my hands the means to destroy your relationship with Lord Lansing. Like me, you would lose the highborn love of your heart and be forced to settle for a man of mediocre means.” Beth hugged Meredith to her. “I beg you to forgive me. Please say you will.”

As they hugged, a tear ran from Meredith’s upturned face and puddled in her ear. “I forgive you, Beth. For, indeed, we are the same, you and I.”

———

When Mrs. Augustine closed the front door behind her— no longer an enemy but rather a sad kindred spirit left in the same rake’s wake—Meredith’s aunts rushed into the entry passage in a fury of cane taps.

Meredith only had words for Annie. “Why did you not tell me… or anyone that you’d seen Mrs. Augustine steal my book of notes? You knew we searched for it.”

“Oh that!” Annie set her hands on her hips proudly. “I didn’t see nothin’. Don’t think that old widow did neither.”

“You…lied?” Meredith gaped at her. “What if she hadn’t taken it?”

“I was fair certain she did.” Annie made a V with her index and middle finger and positioned it before her lashes. “It’s all in the eyes. She was lyin’, I knew that. I’ve had plenty of experience tellin’ liars from those tellin’ the truth—I can always tell when a footman’s been cheatin’ on me. I got the sense, I do.”

“Dear, when you came in, you were crying.” Aunt Viola focused two sad eyes at Meredith. “Things went badly with Lord Lansing then?”

Meredith exhaled. “No, we settled our differences. He still wants me to marry him.”

“Wonderful!”
Aunt Letitia bounced on her heels. She turned to her sister. “We should start penning cards right away. The guests should know we are replacing Mr. Chillton with the handsome Lord Lansing!”

Aunt Viola grimaced. “Sister, our Meredith was crying when she came home.” She turned back to Meredith. “You are not going to marry Lord Lansing, dear, are you?”

“No, Auntie, I cannot. I will not leave anyone standing alone at the altar. I know the pain of that too well and will not inflict it on dear Mr. Chillton.” Meredith caught the newel post and sank down on the third step of the staircase. “So in three days time, so that I may accompany him to India, I shall become the esteemed Mrs. Arthur Chillton.”

———

“He did it just yesterday. Paid the five pounds fer the special license,” Three told Alexander, who sat in his library, leaning his forehead against his steepled fingers.

“Are you sure?” Alexander turned his weary eyes upward at his carriage driver. He hadn’t slept since the afternoon he and Meredith had been caught in the rain, since she told him she could not marry him. And the thought of Meredith marrying that buffoon Chillton was killing him.

“Quite sure, my lord. I followed him right to Doctor’s Commons. Stood behind him, just out of sight, mind ye, as he supplied the information they required and paid the clerk for the license.”

Something flickered inside Alexander’s head, propelling him to his feet.

Something clever. A little underhanded. Rakish.

Perfect.

Alexander started for the passage with a single-minded determination. “Three, ready the carriage and bring it round. One,” he called ahead of him, “my hat!”

“Will ye be needing a flask?” Two prodded. “Or perhaps some sustenance fer the road? ‘Tis a long way to Harford Fell.”

“No, nothing… except five pounds.” Alexander turned the key in his desk and withdrew a small document box.

He opened it and withdrew one of the small leather bags from inside. “I do not intend to make Harford Fell. I have urgent matters to attend to—at Doctor’s Commons.”

———

Arthur Chillton did not have a valet of his own. For what was the need? He’d been dressing himself since he was a lad and found not the least difficulty in doing so. He wrapped his white neckcloth around his throat and tied it in the Horse Collar style. He’d heard once that dandies and fashion hounds, like that damnable Lord Lansing, considered the style vulgar and common. But it looked just fine to Arthur, and besides, he knew how to tie no other style.

He gazed into Hannah’s cheval mirror and was pleased with the result. It was his wedding morn, after all, and Hannah had impressed upon him the importance of looking his very best. He turned around when he heard her footsteps in the passage just outside the door.

“Do I pass, sister?” he asked as she came to stand beside him. He did not really care what her reply would be, for he was turned out well enough and would not change one single article of clothing. Still, he thought he would do her the honor of asking her opinion.

Hannah looked him up and down, and wrinkled up her nose like she was about to sneeze. “Might have bought a new coat for the occasion, Arthur.”

He glanced down at his blue coat, which he’d acquired only three years ago. “This is my finest coat for conducting business. It will do.”

Hannah threw out her arms in frustration and, at once, he noticed something clutched in her right hand. “Arthur, this is not a business gathering,” she complained “It is your wedding day.”

Arthur tapped his temple with his left index finger. “Ah, but what you have failed to realize is that today marks my most important business acquisition ever— Miss Merriweather. With her aunts’ connections, the doors and—dare I say—the pockets of London’s most esteemed families will be opened wide to me.”

“I-is that all Meredith is to you—a business opportunity?” Hannah sputtered.

Arthur could not understand how his sister failed to see the logic in his words. “What other use does a well-positioned wife serve… except to discharge an heir when the time comes?”

Hannah shrieked. “What of love?”

“Sister, my marriage today is a business arrangement. Nothing more.” His gaze caught on the folded vellum in her hand again. “What have you got there? Is that for me?”

Hannah opened her palm and looked at the note as if she just realized she held it. “Oh… this was sent over from St. George’s.” She handed the note to Arthur; then with a disgusted grunt, she turned and started to stamp from the chamber. She paused when she reached the door. “Is everything all right with the wedding arrangements?”

Arthur opened the letter and read it quickly. “Fine, just fine. There’s a new minister at the church,” he said. He started to stuff the missive into his pocket, then pulled it back and held it before his eyes again.

“Reverend Herbert, that’s his name. Wishes a brief interview with me before the ceremony—in private. Stands to reason, I suppose.” He glanced up at Hannah. “I say, can you walk to the church? Since the nuptials commence in but an hour, I think I’ll take the phaeton and meet with him now, if you don’t mind.”

Hannah
growled again and he could near her cursing
him
as she continued down the passage.

Arthur shook his head. Damned if he wasn’t going to be the happiest man in the world when she walked down the aisle with some lucky gentleman—who would take her off his hands for good.

———

Beneath the columned portico outside of St. George’s Church, Meredith stood, with her chin thrust proudly upward, waiting for Arthur so the ceremony could begin. Inside she was quivering. She’d been here before, two years past, and it had culminated in crippling pain and disgrace.

“Just let me have a chat with the minister,” Aunt Letitia told her as she gave Meredith’s back a comforting pat. “Never you fear, gel, I am sure Chillton was just delayed. Any number of mishaps could have caused him to arrive late. Why, I myself am late wherever I go, aren’t I, dear?”

Meredith nodded dumbly, but she knew the truth of it.

It was happening all over again. As her eyes began to heat, she straightened her spine, determined to be strong.

Meredith had been standing outside for thirty agonizing minutes with her aunts, her sisters and their families, Wbo’ d all just amved in Town, and a whispering crowd of London Society, mingling between the six Corinthian columns at her back. It was all fairly clear to everyone that she was being jilted. Again.

———

Arthur looked at the kindly minister, already garbed in his vestments for the ceremony. He had been sitting in the closed vestry for over an hour, and had finally come to his conclusion.

The minister was right. There was no denying it.

He could not settle for a woman who was not everything he required in a wife. And, well, now that he thought it out, it was quite evident that Miss Merriweather, with her spirited ways and low-cut gowns, did not share all of his moral convictions. He’d known of her ruin, but Arthur considered this at the time to be a benefit—to him, anyway. Had she not been jilted, he never would have had a hope of winning over a woman of the
ton
.

But the minister spoke the truth. She was far too spirited, like the horses he glimpsed at Tattersalls. In truth, what he really needed was a more reliable, docile mate, more like… well, like his cart horse, Prannie.

Arthur Chillton would not let it be said he had settled for second-best. No, he would much rather do without. Would be easier, anyway. English women tended to wilt in India’s heat, and he planned to live there for at least three years—which is why he’d made arrangements for Hannah to be governed by the Featherton sisters. No, he should have never even considered taking a wife along to India.

Yes, Reverend Herbert was completely right.

His heart began to race. He could not do this. He could not marry Miss Merriweather!

“But… she will be ruined if I leave her now.” He knew he should at least say mis, though it was not quite the truth of the matter. She’d been left at St. George’s once before and, like the phoenix, had risen from the ashes of her ruin quite nicely.

Reverend Herbert took his shoulders in his soft, godly hands and peered so deep into his eyes that Arthur could feel his presence in the depths of his soul.

“Ye must follow yer heart, dear sir. If ye do this, ye will always be on the path of righteousness.”

So Arthur did just that. After looking into his heart, at last he knew what he must do.

No matter how charming the gentleman, a lady should prize her own self-worth above a ring of gold.

Suddenly the heavy door to the church swung open and the crowd rushed inside. Meredith tried to peer into the church from where she stood outside with her sisters and their husbands, Aunt Viola and her former lady’s maid, Jenny, but her eyes were so full of tears that she could see nothing.

“You do not have to do this, Meredith,” her oldest sister Eliza reminded her, trying to be a comfort.

Her sister Grace reached down and squeezed Meredith’s hand. “We can return to the house right now.”

“No, Grace, I made a promise and I must keep it.” Meredith wiped her tears with the back of her glove. “I will wait.”

“Then for goodness’ sake, stop crying. Your eyes are going all scarlet,” quipped Jenny. She dug down into her reticule and withdrew a tiny silver case. “Here, just let me dab a bit of cream around your eyes—”

“No!” Aunt Viola shrieked. “They are red enough. No need to… irritate them further.”

“Jenny, let the lass be.” Lord Argyll snatched the case from his wife’s hand, then playfully pulled her back against him.

“No, no. I know exactly what to do.” Jenny kissed her husband’s cheek as she pulled away. Very quickly she separated the triple thickness of the gossamer veil that fell from Meredith’s hat down her back, and drew the two shorter lengths over Meredith’s face. “There, now no one shall know that you are not the happiest bride in London.”

“Thank you, Jenny,” Meredith said with a sniffle. “Though now I can barely see through the veil. ‘Tis nearly opaque.”

“Doesn’t matter. You look extraordinary and that is what is most important. And you know, I quite like the effect, if I do say so myself,” Jenny quipped, appreciating her own work. “Might even catch on.”

Just then, Hannah came up the steps and took Meredith’s hand. “Thank goodness you waited for me. Arthur wanted to arrive early to speak with the minister—so he made me walk!”

Meredith blinked. “Do you mean Mr. Chillton has been here all along?”

Hannah nodded, confused. “For more than an hour now. Must be meeting in the vestry.”

Aunt Letitia rushed down the wide nave aisle and beckoned Meredith and the other ladies forward. “He’s waiting for you at the altar. See there?” Her aunt gestured with a pudgy gloved hand to a barely visible figure in a blue coat who stood facing the altar.

Meredith expected to feel more relieved. Happy that she was not jilted again—but how could she be? For in the depths of her being, she knew she would prefer the pain and humiliation of being set aside than marrying anyone other than Alexander.

Tears came fast and heavy as she slowly proceeded down the nave aisle alone. As Meredith walked past the high boxed pews toward the altar, she was confused by the undignified and somewhat excited chatter bursting from members of London Society. She wondered darkly if there were bets being taken at White’s as to whether she would actually emerge from the church a married woman. That certainly would account for the rude whispers and comments as she passed.

Swallowing deeply, Meredith came to stand beside her betrothed, as was her duty.