The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor) (34 page)

“It was a great story,” he muttered.

“As you droned on and on I simply realized I could not spend the rest of my life listening to you tell stories.” She shook her head. “And I realized as well, while I do have a great deal of affection for you, should I be told your ship had been lost at sea, I would certainly mourn the appropriate amount of time, but I would go on. Without any problem at all, really.”

“I see.”

“We have never discussed love between us and I am under no illusion on that score. Indeed, we share a certain affection and I thought a certain sensibility as well, but it’s really not enough to overcome the differences between us.” She thought for a moment. “It does seem to me that when one is madly in love one forgives all those little flaws—”

“Like being overly amusing.”

“I didn’t say you were
overly
amusing; I said that you think you’re amusing. It’s not at all the same.”

“My mistake.”

“As I was saying, if we were head over heels for one another, those qualities that I find so annoying wouldn’t bother me at all. I might well find them endearing.”

He smiled in a wry manner. “I would hate to spend the rest of my life annoying you.”

“I don’t doubt that I might possibly annoy you in return.”

He shrugged.

“Winfield, I agreed to marry you because I thought you were an excellent, indeed a sensible, match. I thought you were a man I could spend the rest of my days with. Now I see I was wrong.” She laid her hand on his arm and stared into his eyes. “Isn’t it better that we face this now rather than after we married?”

“You do have a point.” He sighed. He was not at all pleased about cancelling another wedding. At least this one was small. Still, she was right. Better to part now than spend the rest of their days annoying one another. “Shall we be friends then?”

“Good Lord no!” She snatched her hand away from his arm as if he were on fire. “Acquaintances perhaps, but nothing more than that.”

He stifled a grin. “Lucille, in many ways you are a delight. I believe I shall miss you.”

“There is a possibility I shall miss you as well.” She moved to her horse and waited for him to assist her. He helped her on to the saddle and stepped back. She gazed down at him, a slow smile creasing her lovely lips. “But every time I hear an endless story told by someone who thinks he is most amusing I shall certainly think of you.”

Win laughed.

“I will admit it was a most romantic story. Even the ridiculous part about the ghosts.” She raised a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Perhaps when you next consider asking a woman to marry you, you should tell her the story and show her your folly first.”

“Perhaps I shall.”

And perhaps, the next time he headed toward the altar, he would choose a lady who was interested in more than his title and his fortune. And a woman who enjoyed the more amusing and frivolous aspects of his nature. Perhaps he should make a list of those items as well, lest he forget.

And then perhaps the next time he headed toward the altar, he might actually make it.

Sir Williamand Lady Hibbit
request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of their daughter
Miss Caroline Gwendolyn Hibbitt
to
The Right Honorable
The Viscount Stillwell
on Wednesday, May twento-first
eighteen hundred and eigthy-four
at half-past ten o’clock

Win strode down the walkway on the west side of the broad stretch of lawn that ran the length of the Fairborough Hall formal gardens. The breeze whispered through the twelve-foot-tall beech hedges that effectively boxed in outdoor rooms on either side of the lawn.

There were six such rooms, each concealing a different purpose or landscape. One sheltered the rose garden; a large fountain and pool filled another; two more were devoted to tennis and croquet courts respectively; and the remainders were dedicated to whimsical, some might say confusing, gardens with a profusion of blossoming plants, arbors, statuary and whatever else struck his mother’s fancy in any given season. She had long ago surrendered the planning and design of the rose garden to the gardener, but these two areas she retained to rule over and do with as she pleased.

The center lawn was bounded and crossed at right angles by crushed stone walkways. As a child, Win had always thought it was a pity that those long past designers of Fairborough’s gardens had decided to train hedging for rooms rather than mazes like those at Millworth Manor. Although at the moment, Win was grateful that he was trying to find his fiancée in easily navigated boxes rather than a puzzle of a maze.

Caroline’s maid said she had gone for a walk in the gardens but had no idea which one. As the day was so delightful, Win thought he would join her. He had checked the first two rooms on this side of the lawn and was headed toward the third. The spring in his step matched the lightheartedness of his mood. He was about to be married to the woman who was surely his perfect match. This time, he had nothing to worry about. Not that he had worried before, an annoying voice in the back of his head noted. He ignored it.

Winfield Elliott was not the sort of man given to introspection. He was not prone to melancholy, brooding or the writing of dark poetry late in the night. Nor was he the type given to searching his soul even if, on occasion, his conscience might bear further examination. No, on the contrary, he considered himself quite a jovial, friendly sort. He hid no deep secrets, no skeletons in his closet as it were. Indeed, he was very much an open book sort of person.

Life, he firmly believed, was a pleasant adventure.

Certainly, in his younger days he had often come perilously close to full-fledged scandal, but in nearly every instance he had escaped relatively unscathed. And because he had far more intelligence than most usually credited him with, he had learned a lesson from every misadventure. He had never known real tragedy or true heartbreak. But with Caroline, while he knew he wasn’t truly in love with her, he suspected he was very, very close to it. He suspected as well that he had resisted giving her his heart as something of a precaution. After all, he had already experienced two failed engagements.

There was nothing about Miss Caroline Hibbitt not to love. She was much younger than he, which struck him as beneficial, as his previous fiancées had been close to his own age. She was lovely, of course, with hair a shade of red so pale it seemed more like gold, creamy flawless complexion and eyes the color of summer skies that sparkled when she laughed. And she laughed a great deal, finding amusement in much the same things he did. She was clever and funny and at ease with her place in the world. She was not overly outspoken, but she was not especially quiet as well. Win considered himself fortunate to have found her. Caroline was surely his destiny. The woman he had been waiting for, even if he hadn’t known it, and well worth waiting for. This was a woman he could gladly spend the rest of his days with. A woman he could—he would—easily love. And in a scant four days, she would be his wife.

The faint murmur of voices sounded on the breeze, apparently coming from the last garden room on this side of the lawn, the one sheltering the croquet court. It appeared someone had already joined Caroline in the gardens.

The rooms did not open directly onto the lawn. Indeed, from the lawn one would have no idea of the hidden gardens behind the hedges. One had to follow the walkways between the hedges to find the arched openings on the north and south sides of each separate room.

Win turned and approached the opening. In spite of continued trimming, the hedges had grown thicker through the years and were now nearly ten feet in width. He started through the archway. That was indeed Caroline’s voice. He didn’t recognize the second voice, but it was definitely male.

“What are you doing here?” Caroline’s voice rose. Win slowed. What on earth was going on? “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You can’t marry him, Caro.”

Win stopped short.
Caro?
That was rather affectionate. Who was this man?

“Oh, but I can,” Caroline said firmly. “And I fully intend to.”

The right thing to do at this point would be to make his presence known. But right would not answer the questions that immediately came to mind. Win stepped back, moved to one side, found a small break in the leaves and bent to peer through the hedge.

“But you don’t love him.” The young man addressing Caroline appeared to be perhaps a year or two older than she. He was smartly dressed and entirely too handsome to suit Win.

“I am, however, extremely fond of him.”

Excellent. Win was extremely fond of her as well. Why, he was practically in love with her.

“I know any number of couples who have married with far less affection between them,” Caroline said.

The young man gazed at her with an intensity Win could almost feel. “But you love me.”

For a long moment she didn’t say a word. Win held his breath. At last she heaved a resigned sigh. Her voice was so soft Win could barely hear it.

“Yes, well, I always have.”

“I knew it.” The young man pulled her into his arms. “Then you can’t marry him.”

“Stop that, Lawrence.” She pushed out of his arms. “I can’t not marry him. I have given my word after all, as has my father. Besides, Lord Stillwell is a very nice man—”

Win bit back a groan. Didn’t all men hope their fiancée considered them very nice?

“And quite dashing as well,” she added.

Much better.

“I suppose,” Lawrence said. “For an old man.”

Old? Win’s brow rose. Why, he had just passed his thirtieth birthday. One could scarcely consider that old.

“I would not call him old,” Caroline said staunchly. That was something at any rate. “Older perhaps but not old.”

“He’s ten years older than you.”

“Which is insignificant.” She shrugged. “There’s a greater difference in age between my parents and between yours as well.”

“I know.” Lawrence blew a long breath. “I am simply trying to think of reasons why you shouldn’t marry him. Although. . .” He paused and considered her. “One would think the fact that you love me would be reason enough.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Indeed, it’s all rather complicated.”

What did she mean by complicated?

“You promised to wait for me. You gave your word.”

“I did wait for you,” she said sharply. “I waited for months past when you were originally scheduled to return. When you promised you would return. Who would have imagined representing your family’s interests abroad would have taken so long? If one was a suspicious sort, one might have thought you were having entirely too good a time of it to bother with returning home. To me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But I did wait. Until your letters stopped and your sister informed me you had become betrothed to the daughter of an Austrian count. Then, Lawrence,
then
I decided there would be nothing so foolish as my continuing to wait.”

“That was a misunderstanding,” Lawrence said quickly.

Win was intrigued in spite of himself. How was this young man going to extricate himself from this?

“Oh?” She cast him a scathing look. “Which part?”

“We were never actually
engaged
.” He scoffed. “It was really nothing more than a, oh, misunderstanding, really. There was simply a great deal of gossip and a fair amount of manipulation. But believe me, Caro, I didn’t ask for her hand and I didn’t consent to marriage to her, nor did I ever have any desire to do so.”

She stared with suspicion. “Your letters stopped. What was I to think?”

“I never stopped writing you,” he said firmly. “I don’t know why you didn’t get my letters, but I did write.”

“That’s possible, I suppose.” Reluctance sounded in her voice and she thought for a moment. “Entirely possible, really. My mother was delighted when we heard you were engaged and wasted no time in encouraging me to put you completely out of my head. She wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of your letters before I saw them. She doesn’t like you, you know.”

“She thinks you can do better.” He paused. “She thinks you can marry a viscount.”

“As I fully intend to do,” she said in a lofty manner. “If you have said what you came here to say, you may leave and—”

“I have no intention of leaving.” He stepped toward her. “I came home as soon as I learned of your engagement.”

“You should have returned long before that.” She sniffed.

“Yes, I should have, but I didn’t. In truth, I couldn’t. It was all quite awkward and convoluted and complicated.” He ran his hand through his hair. Win had no idea what Caroline was thinking, but he felt a touch of sympathy for the young man. “And yes, I admit, it has been rather exciting and I have enjoyed myself. But I am here now and I never intend to leave you again.” Lawrence took her hand. “And I will not allow you to marry another man.”

“Allow?” She pulled her hand from his. “You have no say in the matter.”

He stared at her. “But I love you and you love me.”

“And I fully expect to love Lord Stillwell. In time.” She shrugged. “It shouldn’t be at all difficult. Why, I daresay I am already a bit in love with him. He kisses extremely well.”

Win grinned. He did kiss extremely well.

“No doubt because he has kissed so many,” Lawrence snapped. “Do you really want a man who has already been engaged twice and yet has never married?”

“I am certain the blame for both of those falls squarely at other feet,” she said. Win did like that she came to his defense. “Why, his first fiancée broke it off with him to marry a man who was expected to inherit a lofty title and huge fortune. My sister says she’s a bit of a twit at any rate. The second, well, everyone says she is overly proper and extremely stuffy. I suspect Lord Stillwell was entirely too . . . too
nice
for her.”

True enough.

“If he is such a very nice man, surely he will understand when you tell him you are in love—”

“Oh, but I can’t. I simply can’t.” She shook her head. “I could never do that to him. He’s been wonderful to me. Really, all a girl could ask for, and I have no doubt he will make an excellent husband. Besides, while he hasn’t said it, I suspect the failures of his previous engagements have affected him deeply.”

He had been extremely annoyed.

“He gets the oddest look in his eye when the subject comes up, as it has once or twice. It’s not something he likes to talk about.”

Lawrence snorted. “Nor would I if two women had left me practically at the altar.”

Where did the boy get his information?
Win huffed.
It was never actually at the altar.

“Regardless of whether or not it was for the best, I think he was hurt by both ladies.” She shook her head. “I will not do that to him.”

Lawrence studied her for a long moment. “You said it was complicated. What haven’t you told me?”

“Isn’t this complicated enough?”

“I know you, Caro.” He shook his head. “There’s something else.”

Was there something else?

Caroline twisted her hands together and drew a deep breath. “My father is having some financial difficulties. I am not privy to the exact details, but it has to do with unwise investments. Lord Stillwell has made something of a reputation for himself in his handling of his family’s investments. Father says he is quite brilliant in that respect.”