The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (2 page)

“Ah well then, perhaps I misspoke. Maybe I am simply fond of eighteenth-century portrayals.
And as you chose to dress in that manner—”

“Nonetheless, it was not fate.” She stepped back. “You may consider it whatever you
wish I suppose, but it was really no more than coincidence. Fate had nothing to do
with my choice of a costume nor did it have anything to do with our initial meeting
and any subsequent meetings. Fate has not taken a hand here, Mr. Russell, and it would
be best if you were to realize that.”

His expression was somber but laughter danced in his brown eyes. “My mistake then.”

“It is indeed a mistake if you think there is something more to this than what it
is.” She drew a deep breath and braced herself. “While it was indeed a lovely evening—”

“It was exceptional.”

Heat swept up her face and she ignored it. “Regardless, it would be best to put this
. . . this
incident
behind us.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “It is not the
sort of thing I am prone to forget. Indeed, I consider last night one of the more
memorable nights of my life.”

“What utter rubbish.” She scoffed. “I don’t believe that for a moment. I suspect you’ve
had any number of unforgettable nights with women far more memorable than I.”

“Do you?” A smile tugged at his lips. “And you base that on . . . what?”

“Well, you . . . you’re very . . . well, good, I suppose and . . .” She met his gaze
directly. “It is apparent you have done this before.”

His brow furrowed with annoyance. “I have already said I am no more accustomed to—how
did you put it? Ah yes—
this sort of thing
than you. And regardless of how many unforgettable nights I may or may not have had
in the past, none of those women were you.”

“Oh.” Her breath caught and she stared at him. “I’m not sure what to say. I am most
flattered.”

“And I did say it to be flattering.” It was impossible to miss the note of sarcasm
in his voice.

“Then I thank you. Still, I am, for the most part, a most practical woman and it does
seem extremely practical for us to go our separate ways.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “Now, you mean?”

“Yes, now, of course.” Why was the blasted man being so difficult? She was making
her intentions perfectly clear in a calm, rational manner. Delilah forced a firm note
to her voice. “Mr. Russell, I leave for home tomorrow. As there will be an ocean between
us, I think it’s best if we forget about this encounter altogether.”

“Do you?”

“I think it would be wise if we pretended it never happened.”

“As one does with mistakes?”

Had he been reading her mind? “I never used the word
mistake.
”

“And yet it does seem apparent that is exactly what you’re thinking.” He paused. “So,
this is not to be a beginning then?”

“Absolutely not.” Surprise widened her eyes. “I do apologize if I gave you that impression.”

He considered her for a moment. “You have no intention of ever seeing me again, do
you?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m so glad you understand.”

“But I don’t understand. And I have to say I am more than a little offended.”

“Offended?” She stared at him. “Why on earth would you possibly be offended?”

“Why? Because you’ve had your way with me and now you are simply going to discard
me.”

“
I’ve
had my way with
you?
” She drew her brows together. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had his way with her as well.
Indeed, judging from the passion they’d shared throughout the night, passion shared
more than once, he had had every bit as delightful a time as she had. Have her way
with him indeed. “It’s not like that at all.”

“Then how is it?”

Dear Lord, she’d had no intention of explaining this all to him. Nor did it seem at
all fair. She had fully expected him to be the kind of man who would be thrilled to
hear her say good-bye with no fuss, no protests and no halfhearted promises. Of course,
an annoying voice in the back of her head noted, if he had been that kind of man she
probably would not have been attracted to him in the first place.

“Mr. Russell . . . Samuel.” She chose her words with care. “As I have already said,
falling into the bed of a man who is very much a stranger is not something I have
ever done. Nor is it something I ever imagined I would do. And I certainly don’t plan
to ever do it again. I can attribute my actions to nothing more than a heretofore
unknown adventurous streak within me.”

“I’m an adventure, then?” A slow smile spread across his face. “That does take some
of the sting out of it. I like being an adventure.”

She ignored him and continued. “And, as the very nature of adventure is its uniqueness,
this is something that will not be repeated. Nor is it an adventure I wish to be reminded
of. I am not the kind of woman who has adventures. I am not an adventurous sort. Therefore
. . .” She drew a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. “I do indeed think it
would be best if we never saw each other again.”

“I see.” He nodded thoughtfully. “You really think that would be best?”

She nodded. “Oh I do, I truly, truly do.”

“You leave me no choice then, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Nor do I intend to. As I said it’s for the best. Besides, as my ship
sails tomorrow, there will be no more crossing one another’s path unexpectedly and
certainly no more . . .” She glanced at the rumpled bed. “Well, no more
anything.
”

“Ah well.” He shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“It is, Mr. Russell.” She nodded with perhaps more enthusiasm than necessary. “Besides,
this wasn’t fate. It was only mere coincidence and nothing more significant than that.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you would know fate when you saw it?”

“I would hope so. Although I will admit I have never especially believed in fate.”

“Very well then.” He nodded. “I have always thought that fate cannot be denied. But
as you are leaving America, and the chances are indeed excellent that we will not
see one another again, even in passing, I suppose you may be right. Besides, one can
argue that if it was fate to be together, it is fate as well to part. Which does strike
me as a terrible shame.” He paused. “Shall I escort you back to your rooms?”

“No,” she said quickly. “But I do thank you for offering. I might be able to explain
why I am dressed like this if I am seen alone, but I should never be able to explain
why you were accompanying me.”

“Of course.” He chuckled. “I should have thought of that myself.”

“But then you do not do this sort of thing very often.” Relief prompted her to cast
him a teasing smile.

“I hope you’re not disappointed that my reputation is not quite as tarnished as an
adventure might require.”

“I am not the least bit disappointed.” She gazed into his dark eyes and for no more
than a fraction of a moment wondered what might have been between them had he been
more than an adventure. Had he been the kind of man she planned to spend the rest
of her life with. But he wasn’t of course.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “Thank you,
Mrs. Hargate, for a most enjoyable evening. It was not merely my pleasure, it was
my adventure as well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Russell, for my adventure. It was indeed . . .” She smiled up at him
and at that moment had never meant anything more. “Unforgettable.”

Eighteen days before the wedding of
Camille, Lady Lydingham,
to Mr. Grayson Elliott . . .

Millworth Manor, October 1887

“You didn’t need to come fetch me in person.” Samuel Russell smiled at his old friend.
“I did manage to get from one place to another in France and Germany, you know, and
I’d bet I could have found my way from the train station to Fairborough Hall. It’s
not as if you people don’t speak English.”

“Yes, but you don’t.” Grayson Elliott grinned. The differences between the American
and British forms of the same language had long been a running joke between the two
men.

“I say, old chap, do be so good as to shut your mouth,” Sam said in his best imitation
of Gray’s accent.

Gray winced. “You have just made my point. And whatever you do, don’t attempt that
again.”

Sam laughed. He’d met the Englishman nine or so years ago and the two had built their
respective fortunes in tandem. Sam grew his not inconsequential empire from a small
company founded by his grandfather. Gray’s success had begun with a loan from his
family. They’d first met as competitors but soon discovered they shared a common work
ethic, a similar way of looking at life and the possibilities the world presented
for enterprising young men. Throughout it all, they’d formed a solid friendship. Now
that Gray had returned to England after more than a decade spent in America, Sam missed
the man who had been, at various times, confidant, cohort, partner, and friend.

“I must say I was surprised when I received your telegram.” Gray slanted a casual
look at the American.

Sam gasped in feigned dismay. “Surely you didn’t think I would miss the wedding of
one of my oldest friends as well as a valued business associate?”

“When I was in New York you said you wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding.”

“When you were in New York, I didn’t think I would. But then I had no idea I would
find myself in Europe. As I did, it seemed a shame to miss your wedding. And, every
few years, it’s wise to reacquaint myself with my London solicitors, as they oversee
my international holdings.”

“The firm I recommended.”

“For which I will be forever in your debt. Besides, while I have been to England before,
I have never had the time, or the inclination, to see anything beyond London. You
have talked so much through the years about the idyllic world of Fairborough Hall
and the English countryside, the opportunity to see it for myself just seemed too
good to pass up.” He glanced at the scenery passing by them in the open carriage.
“I could use a few relaxing weeks in the country.”

“A holiday?” Gray’s brow rose in a skeptical manner. “You? I can’t recall you ever
taking a holiday.”

“Past time then, don’t you think?”

“I have thought exactly that for some time now.” Gray paused. “Perhaps if you didn’t
devote every minute to work, we would be preparing for
your
wedding now.”

“I believe we prepared for my wedding last year,” Sam said mildly. There was a time
when the mention of Sam’s debacle of an engagement would have been met with annoyance.
Not with Gray of course; the Englishman had stood by him when he had needed a friend
even if Gray had had his suspicions about Sam’s fiancée from the very beginning. Still,
it was the mark of a good friend that Gray had not held over him the fact that he
was right and Sam was so very wrong.

“She was never right for you.” Although Gray couldn’t resist mentioning it on occasion.

“And if I hadn’t listened to you . . .”

“You would now be married to the wrong woman.”

“Fortunately, I came to my senses and recognized the truth.”

They both knew there was far more to it than merely recognizing the truth but now
was not the time to discuss it. Although he suspected, given Gray’s impending nuptials,
the topic would raise its ugly head again in the days to come. “And now
you
have found the right woman.”

“Indeed I have.” Gray chuckled. “But as much as I am delighted to see you here, I
doubt that it’s the wedding that has lured you here. Nor do I believe that rubbish
about a holiday.”

“I am here to help celebrate your nuptials. There is nothing more to my presence here
than that.”

“No doubt.” Suspicion sounded in Gray’s voice. The problem with old friends was that
they knew you entirely too well.

“And I am eager to see your family’s home.”

“I shall delight in showing you around but I’m afraid you won’t be staying at Fairborough.
It was severely damaged in a fire last winter.”

“Good Lord.” Sam stared at his friend. “How bad was it?”

“Very, but fortunately the repairs are nearly finished. While my family is residing
there once again it’s still not quite ready for guests. Those coming for the wedding
will be staying at Millworth Manor, the country home of my fiancée’s family.”

“Ah yes, the lovely Lady Lydingham. How is she?”

“Busy bordering on frantic with a tiny touch of panic tossed in for good measure.”
Gray chuckled. “There is far more involved in a wedding of this sort than I had imagined.
Camille wants everything to be perfect and even though she has been through this kind
of thing before and has experienced help, as well as one of her sisters, there’s a
distinct touch of insanity about her.”

Sam bit back a laugh. “Oh?”

“You know how women are. You have sisters.”

“Yes, but my oldest sister’s wedding was not as grand as I suspect yours will be and
none of my other sisters are old enough to be planning a wedding. But I can imagine
the chaos.” Sam paused. “I know the wedding is still a few weeks away. I hope my early
arrival isn’t a problem. I have already spent several days in London. Since it’s only
an hour by train, I do plan on going into the city to take care of a few remaining
matters while I’m here but I could certainly stay in London until—”

“Don’t be absurd.” Gray scoffed. “I’m delighted to have you here. Millworth Manor
is more than large enough to house any number of guests. And I don’t mind saying I
do welcome another male presence in the house. Camille’s parents have been traveling
and we’re not sure when they might arrive. And who knows where her uncle is but we
hope he appears before the wedding. Although Uncle Basil is notoriously undependable.”

Sam nodded. “We all have one or two relatives like that.”

“Camille’s twin sister’s husband is a political sort and probably won’t arrive until
a day or two before the wedding although Beryl is expected any day now.” He grimaced.
“I can definitely use another man around once Beryl arrives. For protection if for
no other reason. Beryl’s not especially fond of me.”

“Her twin sister?” Sam raised a brow. “That must make things interesting.”

Gray chuckled. “You have no idea.”

“And Mrs. Hargate?” Sam adopted a casual note. In spite of the fact that she had been
adamant, almost rude really, about never wanting to see him again, he was looking
forward to seeing her. It had been nearly four months since their tryst in New York.
There was a chance she had changed her mind about renewing their acquaintance. A chance
he had lingered just as much in her mind as she had in his. The woman did seem to
be there every time he closed his eyes.

Gray’s brows drew together in confusion. “Who?”

“The lady who accompanied you and your fiancée to New York? Your chaperone? I thought
she was a relative of Lady Lydingham’s.”

“Oh, of course.” Gray’s expression cleared. “Delilah.
Lady
Hargate.”

“
Lady
Hargate?” And wasn’t that interesting.

“She’s Camille’s younger sister.”

“Is she? I was under the impression she was a more distant relative.”

“They haven’t been close in the past, although Camille is trying to rectify that.
That was one of the reasons why she asked Delilah to accompany us and probably why
Delilah agreed to come. She’d a have a fit if you addressed her as Mrs. Hargate by
the way. She’s very, oh, proper about that sort of thing.” He cast Sam a curious look.
“I wasn’t aware you had met her.”

“Only in passing,” Sam said in an offhand manner. Only as her damned adventure. “I
doubt that she even remembers my name.” It was obvious now that while the woman hadn’t
actually lied to him, she had led him to believe she was someone she wasn’t. Mrs.
Hargate—ha!

“She arrived at the manor a few weeks ago along with Teddy, Lady Theodosia Winslow.
Teddy’s in charge of the wedding preparations. Her late father was an earl. She and
her mother are among the most prestigious planners of weddings and social events in
England. Camille says they’re in high demand and agree to only the most important
events. Fortunately, she is also Delilah’s closest friend. Unfortunately, their services
cost a small fortune,” he said wryly. “Delilah claims they have to charge exorbitant
fees because nothing free is truly valued.”

Sam nodded. “She’s right there.”

“Aside from the soundness of their business practices . . .” Gray lowered his voice
in a confidential manner. “I suspect the late earl might have squandered the family
fortune but if so, it’s not common knowledge.”

“And yet you have your suspicions.”

“I suppose my years away have changed the way I look at things. Anyone here who might
have the same suspicions would never voice them aloud, at least not in public. It
simply isn’t done.” He paused for a long moment. “Speaking of suspicions, why are
you really here?”

“You wound me deeply, Gray.” Sam adopted an indignant tone. “I’m here for your wedding
of course. And to spend some time with an old friend. And reacquaint myself with the
London firm that oversees my international holdings. If, in the course of that, conversation
turns to some sort of, oh, I don’t know, some sort of investment or opportunity or—”

“Aha!” Gray laughed. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”

“Not at all. I simply . . .” Sam grinned. “I don’t think it’s right to keep this to
myself.”

“Keep what to yourself ?”

“Why, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let you in on this?”

“In on what?”

“I know how you love anything that smacks of progress and the future.”

“Progress?” Gray’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “And the future, you say?”

“I should warn you, it’s highly speculative.”

“Is it?” A familiar glint sparked in Gray’s eyes. “Then I suspect as well it’s extremely
interesting.”

“Indeed it is.” Sam leaned closer to his old friend. “What would you say to the idea
of horseless carriages?”

“Horseless carriages?” Gray groaned. “Are you insane?”

“Shhh.” Sam glanced at the carriage driver. “This is best discussed in private.”

“Keech can be trusted. And I have no doubts as to his sanity.”

“Even so.”

“Still, I’d hate for him to think I was mad.” Gray heaved a resigned sigh. “And I
suspect this is one of the maddest ideas you’ve ever had.”

“Or one of the most brilliant.” Sam flashed another grin.

Gray studied him closely, then nodded. “Very well, then.” He turned and called to
the driver. “Keech, we’ll get out here. Mr. Russell would prefer to walk the rest
of the way and I wouldn’t mind a bit of exercise myself. Who knows how long this grand
autumn weather will last. Besides we are nearly to Millworth’s drive now.”

“Very well, sir.” Keech reined the horses to a stop.

Sam and Gray got out of the carriage. Gray nodded at the driver. “Please take Mr.
Russell’s bags to the house. We’ll be there shortly.”

“As you wish, Mr. Elliott.” The driver tapped the rim of his hat and the carriage
started off.

Gray waited until the vehicle was out of range. “Well, go on then. What is this nonsense
about?”

“It’s not nonsense and it might well be the way of the future.”

“As might flying machines, but we’ve yet to see one that has managed to get an inch
off the ground.”

Sam cast his friend a smug smile. “I have.”

Gray’s brows shot upward. “You’ve seen a working flying machine?”

“Don’t be silly. That would be absurd. I doubt man was meant to fly, although I’d
never bet on that. After all, the world is changing every day.” His grin widened.
“But I have seen a horseless carriage.”

“I too have seen a horseless carriage.” Gray nodded and started off down the road,
Sam by his side. “Rather useless things at the moment I’d say.”

“Exactly.”

Gray stopped and stared at Sam. “What do you mean exactly?”

“I mean that at the moment they are rather useless.” Sam nonchalantly started walking
again. “But only at the moment.”

“I have always relished the way you enjoy being circumspect. What are you trying to
say?”

“What is the biggest problem with horseless carriages?”

“I don’t know. I really haven’t been especially interested up to now.” Gray thought
for a moment. “An efficient, compact motor I suppose. Of course, there have been developments
in recent years. Internal combustion and—”

Sam laughed. “I thought you said you weren’t interested?”

“I’m not,” Gray said staunchly then shrugged. “Although admittedly it is an intriguing
proposition.”

“I have an even better one. I have just come from meeting a German, a Mr. Benz, who
has not only patented an internal combustion engine but has designed and constructed
the vehicle to go along with it.”

“As have others.”

“Yes, but there’s something about Benz I like. And he hasn’t just slapped a motor
on a carriage. He’s designed a complete vehicle. Three wheels, tubular steel frame,
differential gears, etcetera. Admittedly, the steering mechanisms still need work.”

“And you want to invest in this horseless carriage?”

“Motorwagon,” Sam said firmly. “He calls it a motorwagon.”

“I believe the French are using the word
automobile
.”

“Yes, I have heard that.
Automobile
.” Sam considered the word. “I like it. It has a nice ring to it. Could be shorter,
though. Something with a bit more snap to it—”