Noble Destiny (10 page)

“Must get this fixed before Sunday.” David grinned. “Wouldn't do to be late to my own…oh.”

Dare closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his forehead. The watches all told him the same thing. They all foretold the depressing truth that today marked the beginning of a life spent wasting interminable long hours waiting on a woman.

He opened his eyes and heaved a martyred sigh of the doomed.

“Most fashionable ladies are late for events,” David reassured him. “Patricia tells me it's just not done to arrive anywhere on time, and with brides…well, everyone knows how late brides are. They like to make a dramatic entrance.”

Dare summoned a faint smile. He wished he had something pithy to say about the silliness of women and especially brides, but all he could think of was a strong recommendation to avoid the little darlings like they were plague-bearing lepers, and that was hardly the advice to be giving the man who was to marry his sister some five days hence.

“She'll be here,” he predicted instead. “She worked too hard to snare me just to jilt me now. She's just punishing me for not spending every last shilling I had on a big wedding.”

David smiled. “I know it must seem bad to you now, but Patricia is sure it'll work out. She thinks Lady Charlotte has a
tendresse
for you, and that's a good part of the battle, isn't it?”

Dare allowed his lips to twist into a wry approximation of a smile, and punched David lightly in the shoulder by way of thanking him for the consolation. He resumed pacing the length of the small room, stopping occasionally to pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache starting to come on, a headache made worse by the noise from the yard outside the church. A circus was in town to perform for Tsar Alexander's visit, and it sounded like they'd decided to hold orchestra practice directly outside the church.

After Dare's tenth pass by the two men, Batsfoam spoke. “Would you care for me to ascertain the location of the lady you so honorably, if more than a little precipitously, offered to wed? Not that I'm criticizing my lord's actions; in truth, I would rather cut off my other leg than make even the slightest criticism of the hasty manner in which you promised to wed a woman you barely know, let alone seem to feel any fondness for, not that fondness is required in a marriage, as I have experience to know, having been wed for seventeen extraordinarily long years to Mrs. Batsfoam before her untimely demise in a terrible accident caused by the Elephant Woman of Zanzibar on display at Mr. Trencherfoot's Gallery of the Unexplainable and Bizarre, who, as she seated herself on a bench, propelled the Tasmanian Bat Boy across the room directly into Mrs. Batsfoam's lap, whereupon she choked on her horehound sweet, thereby hastening her death three years later by palpitations to the spleen. Indeed, my leg would be a small sacrifice to put my lord's troubled mind at rest. Shall I fetch a surgeon for the immediate removal of the one sound limb remaining me?”

Dare pursed his lips in apparent thought. “Whoever else is fickle in my life, Batsfoam, I can always count on you to be constant, ever a glad ray of happiness and cheer ready to light my solemn days and brighten every moment.”

David made a sound suspiciously close to a snort. Outside the church, voices rose to a fevered pitch, cries of “'Ere, you, mind the bear, 'e bites” battling the sharp, tinny blare of several off-key trumpets attempting to play a triumphant march. Dare fought to keep in control the rising sense of absurdity at the situation. His lips quirked upward a moment later when Batsfoam, his head bent in humble approximation of subjugation, genuflected to indicate his leg and cocked an eyebrow. “The leg, my lord? It won't take but a moment to have it hacked off.”

“Perhaps later, Batsfoam. After the wedding breakfast, hmm? Wouldn't do to put the ladies off their feed with a lot of blood and such.”

“Dare!” Patricia burst into the small room, stopping just long enough to grab her brother by his arm and drag him toward the door. “Dare, you must come quickly. Lady Charlotte has arrived, but she refuses to leave the carriage until she speaks with you. Oh, and there's a monkey loose in the church, but the vicar thinks he has it cornered in the chandelier over the nave, so you're not to worry. Did you know there's a circus outside?”

Dare's shoulders twitched for a moment, but with effort, he managed to square them and follow his sister out to the carriage with no more than a slightly bored look on his face.

“Ah, Carlisle, there you are. Spot of trouble with the ladies, don'tcha know,” a slight, red-haired man standing next to the carriage said, looking distinctly relieved to see the groom. A shout of warning had the two men leaping out of the way when a camel trailing several silken scarves and a gilded rope galloped past them and up the steps leading into the church, pursued by three men who hurled a number of obscene threats and oaths at the animal's head.

“Beverly,” Dare acknowledged with a nod as the two men resumed their place before the carriage. “I take it my bride has cold feet?”

Lord Beverly glanced worriedly at the church, then back to the carriage. The blinds were suddenly shoved aside, and Charlotte's face appeared in the glass. She beckoned to Dare.

“Er…something like that. I gather your lady has taken exception to something with the church. Wouldn't be surprised if it was the circus. Didn't know they held the things in a church. Doesn't seem entirely proper to me.”

Dare made no reply, but opened the carriage door. “Good morning, Lady Beverly, Charlotte. Is there something I can do for you? Other than wed you, that is?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said, grabbing his hand and tugging him into the carriage. Dare allowed himself to be pulled in. He settled on the seat across from her with a hard-won expression indicating only mild curiosity.

“I want to tell you that I'm not marrying you.”

“Perhaps I'd best see if dearest Algernon needs me…” Caroline murmured as she tried to slide across Charlotte to the door.

“Stay where you are, Caro, I want a witness to this discussion.”

“But, Char, this situation is between you and Lord Carlisle. I really think I should leave—”

Charlotte had the audacity to frown at him. Dare ignored Caroline and sat back, his arms crossed over his chest. “You're not marrying me?”

“No.”

“You came all this way in your wedding gown to tell me we're not being wed today?”

Charlotte nodded. “That's right. I shan't wed you until you've come to your senses.”

“I see.” Dare nodded, even though he didn't see, not in the remotest sense of the word. Still, he was fairly certain that Charlotte would fill him in on all the minor points of her declaration, such as exactly why she had changed her mind after working so hard to trap him. He nodded again, then opened the carriage door and stepped out, narrowly missing being trampled by a small herd of harlequins. He took a deep, dung-scented breath, and waited for the inevitable.

“Alasdair!” Charlotte jumped out of the carriage after him, showing a healthy bit of leg in the process. She stormed over to him, favoring him with a glare that could strip the hair off a cat. He fought the urge to smile at the outraged look in her fathomless eyes, all the while acknowledging that her fury just made him want to kiss her.

“You can't just leave! You're supposed to beg me to marry you!” She looked so disgruntled, he had to fist his hands to keep from pulling her toward him and kissing the scowl right off her face. “You're not doing this correctly! You're supposed to plead with me and sue for my favor, groveling and humbling yourself so I can tell you what you need to do to make me change my mind, and you haven't done any of that, and as I'm not getting any younger waiting for you, you'd best get to it!”

He did smile then. He couldn't help himself. It was one of the worst days of his life, the day he was to shackle himself to a woman he suspected he loved, but who would probably make every day of his life a living hell with her demands for attention and things he couldn't provide. Yet he couldn't keep from smiling at her. She was just so…damned…
Charlotte!

Evidently she didn't quite see his smile as he intended. Her blue eyes flashed such heat at him as to ignite a lesser man, but Dare just gloried in her magnificence. Despite it all, all the sacrifices he was making, all the setbacks and heartbreak she was sure to bring him, she was his and his alone. No one else would be the recipient of the sparks flying from those beautiful eyes.

“Oooh! How dare you smirk at me!” She stomped her foot and poked him in the shoulder. “Aren't you even going to ask me why I won't marry you?”

He decided to humor her. After all, he had a lifetime to rile her up and enjoy the fireworks. It was better to calm her now so the wedding could proceed and he could return to work on his engine. He allowed his smile to fade, adopting a serious mien as befitted one who was about to grovel and sue for favor. He even added a courtly little bow for good effect. “I am all ears, Lady Charlotte.”

The look in Charlotte's eyes metamorphosed from the white-hot heat of anger to the flushed glow of something much more intriguing as she ran her gaze over his shoulders and chest.

“Well, I wouldn't go that far,” she murmured in a conciliatory tone.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

A maidenly blush pinked her cheeks. Dare bit back the urge to throw back his head and laugh aloud with the joy of her. She never failed to surprise him—one moment she was saying the most outlandish things he'd ever heard, the next she was blushing like a virgin.

“You. You're more than just ears.”

He fought long and hard, but at last he was able to speak without having to grab her and kiss her first. Now was not the time for kissing. Now was the time to get her into the church and wed her before she drove him daft with her innocent, highly seductive charm. Later, perhaps, he would allow himself to kiss her. Just one kiss, and a short one at that, given before he made it absolutely clear that despite the fact that she had trapped him into marriage, he had no intention of bedding her until he was good and ready. He put on his martyred face and bent his head to her. “Charlotte, I am distraught and filled with sorrow at this grievous news. What task might I undertake to encourage you to change your mind?”

She sighed with obvious relief, dimpling at him in a fashion that made his heart do odd little gymnastics in his chest. God's kidneys, but she made his vow not to give in to her wiles difficult! “I'm so glad you're being more reasonable, Alasdair. It's about this wedding you've planned.”

“So I gather. I take it you have an objection to the church?”

“No. Yes. No, I don't mind it, although I do think it extremely unkind of you not to even investigate the possibility of Westminster Abbey being open to individuals who are not of royal blood. Truly, Alasdair, it's not the church I find fault with; it's the people.”

Dare stared at her for the count of five. His amusement at her evaporated as the ache throbbing at the front of his head blossomed. Wearily he pinched the bridge of his nose again. “The people?
What
people?”

Charlotte nodded, clearly pleased with him. “Exactly! What people! There are none, no one except your sister and Caro. And Lord Beverly. And your sister's betrothed, and my cousin's servants. But other than those scant dozen, there is no one else. It is simply impossible for you to insist we marry with no one to watch us. Thus I have decided that I shan't wed you until the proper number of people are present to witness our most sacred oaths to each other.”

“The proper number…” Dare shook his head, opened his mouth to say more, then thought better of it. Enough was enough. He had been as patient as a saint, but he had to take the upper hand with her, or he'd never again regain control of his life. The horrific vision of what life would be like with Charlotte in command fixed firmly in mind, he took his bride by her elbow and started toward the church, ducking under a rope dancer's rope set up between two pillars on the church portico. When Charlotte balked, he stopped and faced her. “Either you enter this church with me here and now and we wed, or you can leave and find yourself another fox.”

“Fox?” A puzzled frown wrinkled her adorable brow.

He fought the need to smooth the puzzlement away. If he wanted even a remote chance of happiness in the future with her, he had to stand firm now. Only by getting this marriage ceremony over with could he return to the important task of finishing his engine. Without the money that engine was sure to bring, their futures weren't just bleak, they were nonexistent. “Fox. Victim. Husband. Whatever you want to call it, but understand this, Charlotte, I will not pander to your whims and temper. Make up your mind.”

“What?” Charlotte stared at him openmouthed for a moment.

Dare leaned closer so only she could hear his words. “You wished to wed me. Now you will do so, or you will walk away from here a free woman. It's your decision.”

“But, Alasdair—”

“My…name…is…Dare,” he replied in the same low tone, his jaw set.

Her eyes clouded with tears as she obviously recognized the stalwartness behind his words. Despite his best intentions, he felt something melt in his chest at the sight of her lovely eyes filling, but a man couldn't give in to every pair of weepy eyes he saw, even if it felt like each tear was ripping open a gaping hole in his heart.

“Charlotte,” he said, preparing to soften his words with a little judicious begging. It would be a blow to his pride, but that was already so tattered a little more damage wouldn't trouble him.

“Please, Alasdair,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering with pain behind a shield of tears. “Please don't shame me in front of everyone. I couldn't bear it if you did. I just couldn't bear it.”