The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (30 page)

The conversation at dinner ebbed and flowed around the table with no less than half
a dozen different discussions ongoing at any minute. Delilah was seated across from
Sam and close to the head of the table between Gray and Charborough. Obviously, no
accident. Lady Dunwell was on Sam’s right, Miss Martin on his left. She seemed quite
taken with Lord Latimer on her far side, giving Sam plenty of opportunity to watch
Delilah engage Charborough in what appeared to be verging on intimate conversation.

“I must admit, Mr. Russell, I’m most intrigued by the idea of your motorwagon,” Lady
Dunwell said. “I should very much like to ride in it.”

“It’s not ready for a ride at the moment, I’m afraid.” Sam shook his head. “And we’re
moving it to London tomorrow.”

“I see.” She paused. “But you will be back for the wedding, won’t you, Mr. Russell?”

“Oh, I’m just accompanying the vehicle. I’ll only be gone for the day.” He smiled.
“And it’s Sam.”

“Excellent, Sam, and you should call me Beryl.” She leaned closer in a confidential
manner. “I’ve always found it awkward when people sharing the same house stand on
formalities. Tell me something, Sam.”

“Yes?”

“Camille said you and Grayson might be seeking investors in your motorwagon company.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s one of the things we’ve discussed.”

“Should you decide to pursue that course of action, I would be very interested.”

“Would you?” His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

She laughed. “My goodness, Sam, you needn’t look at me with quite that much suspicion.”

“I am sorry.” He grabbed his glass and took a quick swallow of wine. “You simply took
me by surprise. You understand it is a risky venture.”

“But what’s worthwhile in life isn’t a risk?” Her direct gaze met his and it struck
him that the motorwagon might not be the only thing she was talking about. “I’m always
interested in something new and exciting.”

“And your husband?”

“Oh, Lionel is quite a progressive sort. He’ll be here a day or two before the wedding.
Perhaps the two of you can talk then.” She sipped her wine and studied him over the
rim of her glass. “But you should know, I have my own funds. And while I would certainly
discuss something like this with him, as I do value his opinion, I would as well do
as I wished.”

Sam chuckled. “That is progressive of him.”

“I know.” She cast him a smug smile. “It’s one of his best features.”

He laughed.

“Grayson, no doubt, has filled your head with all sorts of half-truths about me.”
Amusement twinkled in her blue eyes, the exact same shade as her younger sister’s.

Sam chose his words with care. “He has mentioned you.” “He’s wise to be wary of me.”

“You don’t like him.”

“Goodness, Sam, I’ve known the man all of my life. I simply adore Grayson. But if
you tell him that, I’ll deny it and call you a lying lunatic.”

Sam laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.” She paused. “I like Grayson, I always have but as much as I like
him I love my sisters. He broke Camille’s heart long ago and I suppose as she broke
his heart as well, one could argue that they are on even footing.”

“They seem to have gotten past that.”

She nodded. “In truth, I’m delighted they have found each other again. She trusts
him implicitly. I’m not sure I will until they have been married, happily mind you,
some forty years or so.”

He chuckled. “A bit long, don’t you think?”

“Very well then.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “Thirty years. But no less.”

He laughed.

“I am very loyal, Sam.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“You would be wise to remember that.” Her tone hardened. “I only want what’s best
for my sisters. Both of them.” She paused for a moment. “I’ve been remiss in that,
in the past, when it comes to Delilah.”

His gaze strayed down the table to Delilah. “I understand you’ve never been close.”

“It’s easy when one has a twin who is also your closest friend, to forget that she
is not your only sister.” She shook her head. “Oddly enough, as I rarely have regrets
about anything, I do regret that. And I intend to do better.” She paused. “He’s perfect
for her, you know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, his gaze still on Delilah.

“He’s everything she wants. Or perhaps he’s only everything she thinks she wants.
Or thinks she should want.”

“Perhaps?”

“I’m not a fool, Sam,” Beryl said coolly. “As perfect as Charborough may be . . .”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “She’s in love with you.”

“I know.”

“Are you in love with her?”

His gaze snapped to Beryl’s. “And if I am?”

“Then you should do something about it.”

“Well, I hope you have some ideas as to what that might be because I do not,” he said
in a sharp tone. “My apologies. I didn’t mean—”

“Think nothing of it.” She waved off his apology. “But you might wish to smile and
look as if we are discussing something no more significant than, oh, say, the weather.”

“Of course.” He smiled.

“And you have told me what I need to know.”

“I suppose I have.”

“It won’t be easy,” she warned.

“It hasn’t been thus far. I don’t expect that to change now.”

“She is convinced that the differences between you are too great to overcome. I imagine
that just makes it more of a challenge. And Sam.” She laid her hand on his arm and
gazed into his eyes. “You strike me as a man well suited to a challenge.”

He nodded. “I am.”

“And you rarely lose.”

“Rarely.”

“Oh, I do like it that you didn’t say never. I don’t think one should trust a man
who doesn’t acknowledge that he is not infallible. Now then.” She glanced down the
table at Delilah, who was paying them no notice whatsoever. No, she was entirely engrossed
in whatever Charborough was saying. “What is your plan?”

“I don’t really have a plan.”

“Are you mad?” Her eyes widened in disbelief but her smile remained on her face. “One
must always have a plan. Delilah is exceptionally fond of plans.”

“I was thinking that I should just declare myself and ask her to marry me. . . .”

Beryl stared. “That’s your plan?”

“It’s all I’ve got,” he said weakly.

“I must say it’s not much of a plan. It’s not especially original and I can’t imagine
it will work although it is a beginning, I suppose. But you should still try to think
of another plan when this one fails.” A vague hint of indecision flashed through her
eyes. “You should probably know, Delilah does has a plan.”

He studied her closely. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“Absolutely not.” Her smile never faltered. “I promised Delilah my full support.”

“And yet you’re helping me.”

“Nonsense, I really haven’t done anything but ascertain your oh, worth if you will,
for myself. Besides, my dear man, helping you
is
giving her my full support. Now then . . .” She cast him a brilliant smile. “Lovely
weather for this time of year, don’t you think?”

Gray was right.

He was a minor player in the production that was his wedding. Camille was the star,
the prima donna, the diva. While she appeared as gracious and charming as always to
Sam, there was as well a glint of steel in her blue eyes. No man who valued his life
would dare to confront her at the moment. Sam was safe enough. He had no reason to
confront Camille. Her sister was a different matter.

While typically the gentlemen stayed in the dining room or retired to the billiards
room for port and cigars, tonight Camille had quietly suggested to her parents and
to Grayson that it would be lovely if the gentlemen limited their after-dinner ritual
to no more than a quarter of an hour. As much as it was a suggestion, no one wanted
to cross Camille and now the entire company was once again in the parlor.

The younger of the Radnor sisters, Jessamine, played the piano while Miss Martin turned
the sheet music and Lord Dantrey teased both young ladies, which did not help the
quality of Jessamine’s musical skills. Around the room, the rest of the gathering
broke into groups of two or three or more and stood or sat and chatted. Near the fireplace,
Lord Briston and Lord Radnor engaged in a spirited discussion of Irish home rule although
Sam wasn’t clear which of the men was for it and who was against. He suspected the
true enjoyment for the gentlemen was more in the debate than real passion for either
side of the question. On the sofa, Lady Briston, Mrs. Martin, and Lady Radnor were
trying to decide whether they should have tables set up for cards although they did
do so last night and perhaps they should try something different tonight. By the window,
Beryl and Teddy and Camille chatted with Lord Latimer, who appeared quite taken with
Teddy although, from what Sam overheard, they had known each other for years so he
might have been mistaken. Mr. Martin was in one corner of the room, flirting with
the older Miss Radnor, Frances. Delilah and Lord Charborough were on the far side
of the room, speaking in a low and intimate manner to each other punctuated by occasional
laughter. She was obviously having a delightful time.

Sam and Gray stood near the open doorway, each with a glass of brandy in his hand.

“What’s your opinion,” Gray said in a low voice. “Is she mad?”

Delilah was gazing up at Charborough as if he were the sun and the stars and the entire
universe wrapped up in one perfect package.

“Yes,” Sam said in a hard tone.

“I was afraid of that.” Gray sighed. “At least it will never be boring. Living with
a lunatic, that is.”

Sam’s gaze snapped to his friend’s. “What?”

“I see. We’re back to your problems now, aren’t we? You’re not talking about Camille
at all.”

Sam shook his head in confusion. “Camille?”

“I asked if you thought she was mad.”

“I’m beginning to suspect everyone in this family is a bit mad.” Sam’s gaze strayed
back to Delilah. Did she actually just flutter her lashes at the man?

“At least the female members.” Gray sipped his brandy. “Although I wouldn’t want to
rule out a certain element of madness when it comes to either Lord Briston or Colonel
Channing.”

“Colonel Channing?”

“Camille’s Uncle Basil. Lord Briston’s twin brother. He’s an adventurous sort. Spent
his life in travel and the odd bit of exploration. He has always been an interesting
character.”

“I can hardly wait to meet him.”

Good Lord, if Delilah leaned any closer to Charborough she’d fall into his lap.

“Camille wants him here for the wedding. He’d better arrive soon or there will be
hell to pay.” Gray shuddered. “And I’ll probably be the one paying it.”

“Actually, I thought Camille seemed remarkably serene this evening.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Sam.” Gray swirled his brandy in his glass and stared at
his future wife. “She’s a crafty sort. But then lunatics often are.”

Sam laughed. Delilah glanced his way then immediately turned her attention back to
Charborough. The laughter died in his throat.

“I don’t know that anyone else has noticed but there seems to be steam coming out
of your ears,” Gray said mildly. “I’ve never seen you jealous before.”

“I’m not . . .” Sam’s jaw tightened. “Look at the way she’s throwing herself at him.”

Delilah laughed at something Charborough said.

Gray studied the couple. “She does seem to be taken with the man.”

“But he’d never make her happy. Not really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re the only one who could truly make her happy?”

“Yes.”

“But he is everything she wants.”

“Everything she thinks she wants. Everything she’s expected to want. Oh, she might
well be content with him.” Sam shook his head. “But she deserves more than merely
content for the rest of her life.”

“I gather you still haven’t come up with a definitive plan.”

“Not yet.”

“Well, it seems to me you should probably do something and soon.” Gray nodded at the
couple. “Unless you intend to wait until she is walking down the aisle toward someone
else.”

Charborough’s gaze locked with Delilah’s and he leaned closer, as if he were about
to kiss her. Surely, he wouldn’t do that here? In front of everyone? Surely, she wouldn’t
allow it?

Beryl had said Delilah had a plan. What kind of plan could she possibly have? Did
she plan to throw herself into Charborough’s willing arms in front of her family and
everyone else? She was entirely too concerned with proper behavior to do anything
of the sort. She was—at once the truth struck him.

“You’re right, Gray. And I’ve had quite enough of this.”

He handed Gray his glass then crossed the room to Delilah and the dashing Lord Charborough.
Sam smiled in as pleasant a manner as he could manage. It wasn’t easy.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Lord Charborough, Delilah.” His gaze met hers and it
was all he could do to keep a pleasant note in his voice. “Could I have a word with
you? Privately?”

“Goodness, Sam, Victor and I were just engaged in a most fascinating discussion about
. . .”

“The weather?” Charborough suggested.

“Native birds,” Delilah said at the same time.

“Surely both the weather and the birds can wait.” Sam glanced at the other man. “Do
you mind if I borrow her for a few minutes?”

Charborough’s gaze shifted from Sam to Delilah and back. “Of course not. As long as
you bring her back.”

Delilah laughed lightly and batted Charborough with her fan. “Why Victor, what a charming
thing to say.” Her smile stayed on her face but she cast a scathing look at Sam. “I’ll
only be a moment.”

“Charborough.” Sam nodded, took Delilah’s elbow, and steered her toward the door,
fairly dragging her into the hall. “You can’t fool me, Dee. I know exactly what you’re
doing.”

“I’m not trying to make you jealous if that’s what you’re thinking.” She shook off
his arm.

He glared down at her. “That’s not what I was thinking. And I was not jealous.”

“Really.” Her brow rose. “Given the way you were watching us, it seemed rather obvious
to me.”

“You noticed?”

“It was hard to miss.”

He clenched his teeth. “Making me jealous is simply an unexpected benefit.”

“Nonsense, Sam. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re jealous or not,” she said in a lofty
manner. “An unexpected benefit of what?”

“Your plan.” He fairly spit the words.

“My plan?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I may be many things but I am not an idiot.”

“I still don’t—”

“You’re trying to prove to me that you are no better than Lenore. You want me to think
you are nothing more than a fortune hunter so that I’ll leave. And you’ll never face
how you feel.”

“Nonsense, Sam. I know exactly how I feel. Furthermore, I detest that phrase.
Fortune hunter
.” She practically spit the words. “Might I point out there is a vast difference between
myself and a woman who marries for position and money because she has neither. I have
both. Therefore, the term really isn’t accurate.”

“Close enough.”

“Not at all. I’m not interested in a man’s wealth and title because it will improve
my lot in life. Although one certainly doesn’t want to marry beneath oneself. I simply
know what is appropriate in life. What is right. For me that is.”

“What’s expected you mean.”

“Oh come now, just because it’s what I am expected to do, what I want to do, doesn’t
mean it’s not the right thing to do.” She shrugged. “I have simply set my sights on
a gentleman who meets all of my qualifications.”

“Qualifications which do not include love.”

“Exactly.” She sighed. “We’ve had this discussion or one very much like it before.
I have not changed my mind.”

“There’s a difference, Dee. Now we’re talking about the two of us.”

“Because you claim I’m in love with you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nothing more than romantic rubbish and you know it.” She paused. “And while
I am not a fortune hunter as the term is correctly defined, while my motives are entirely
different, I suppose, when you get to the core of it all, I am exactly like your former
fiancée. We are both looking for benefits to marriage that have nothing to do with
love. The only difference between us is that I’m not willing to lie about it. I’m
not willing to let a man believe I love him to get what I want.” She shook her head.
“There is no two of us, Sam, and there never can be.”

“Why not?”

“Good Lord, you’re stubborn.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Because it’s
not right. Because it wouldn’t work. Because we’re too different from each other.
Because we’ll only cause each other pain in the end. You’ll break my heart or I’ll
break yours. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I never imagined you to be a coward, Dee.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and stared at him.

He shook his head. “Obviously, I was wrong.”

“Yes, well, we’re all wrong about something on occasion. I am sorry to disappoint
you but there you have it. I’m not the woman you thought I was. I am narrow-minded
and stubborn, I don’t do the unexpected, and I am not one for adventure. And I don’t
take risks.” She raised her chin. “Even you have to admit Victor is exactly the type
of man I planned to marry.”

“There’s certainly no risk there.”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“It’s right for me.
He’s
right for me.”

“I don’t give up easily, Dee,” he warned. “In fact, I can’t remember the last time
I gave up at all.”

“Then this will be a new experience for you. You’ve lost, Sam, and whether you want
to face it or not, this is best for both of us.” She turned to go back into the parlor.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Dee.” He gazed into her blue eyes. “Don’t turn your back on us.”

“Oh, Sam.” Her chin trembled and regret shone in her eyes. “There is no us.”

Their gazes locked for a long moment. Words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know what to
say, how to make her see that they belonged together. That regardless of what was
practical and what made sense, no matter how many obstacles they had to overcome,
they belonged together.

“Call it fate or magic or whatever you wish, this is right. I know you love me.”

“I don’t believe in fate or magic. Silly, foolish, romantic notions.” She shook her
head. “I’ve never said I loved you.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know.” His gaze bored into hers. “I know, Dee, as surely as
I have ever known anything in my life, as surely as I know the sun will come up tomorrow,
I know I’m not wrong about that. And I—”

“May I be of assistance, Delilah?” Charborough stood in the doorway. His gaze shifted
between Sam and Delilah.

“No, but thank you for the offer.” She pulled out of Sam’s grasp and cast Charborough
a grateful smile. Sam’s heart twisted at the sight. “There is nothing to be concerned
about.”

“No, there isn’t,” Sam said in a hard tone. “Nothing to be concerned about at all.”
He stared at her and she stared coolly back. “Simply a misunderstanding. But Lady
Hargate has convinced me . . . I was wrong.”

“Ah, well then.” Charborough offered his arm to Delilah and she took it. “Shall we?”

She nodded. “Sam.” She cast him a dismissive smile and accompanied Charborough back
into the parlor.

He stood outside the doors to the parlor for a moment or perhaps it was forever. Maybe
he was wrong. Maybe she didn’t love him. Maybe she was right. Maybe this could only
end in heartbreak for one of them, or for both of them.

He turned and started toward his rooms. He couldn’t remember ever having given up
on anything he’d wanted before. But this was a game he didn’t know how to win. Damnation,
he didn’t even know how to play. But he did know he’d lost even if he wasn’t entirely
sure she had won.

He’d return to London with Jim and stay there until the wedding. It made perfect sense
and was probably for the best. At least if he left, he could start putting her behind
him, if that was possible.

No, there was no maybe about it. She was absolutely right about one part of it all.

His heart was already broken.

“My dear little cousin.” Sympathy shone in Victor’s eyes. “Are you sure this is what
you want?”

“It’s not at all what I want.” She steeled herself and forced a smile. “But it is
what’s best for both of us.”

He studied her closely. “As much as I hate to say this, I think you’re wrong.”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“No, but I do know love when I see it.” Victor shook his head. “You’re breaking his
heart and I suspect yours is broken as well.”

“Better now than after we’ve failed to build a life together.”

“Are you so sure it would fail?”

“We have nothing in common.”