The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) (11 page)

Was that the only reason he had proposed? Now that Richard was dead he needed a son, therefore a wife, and her parents had applied for aid at the exact right time. What better choice than a country bumpkin cousin who'd followed him around like a lovesick loon when they were children? He could be assured of her devotion and count on her lacking the sophistication of a lady exposed to society.

Her stomach rolled, and as so often had happened since her fall, the room tilted at a sickening angle.

Hands caught her. The seamstress and her mother led her toward the sofa and guided her down.

They were talking, and she couldn't understand. Slowly, the sound came back as a cold compress was pressed against her head, and a straight pin poked her in the ribs.

"Did you eat this morning, Sophie?" asked her mother.

"I ate, but it didn't agree with me." Should she tell her mother about the fall from the horse? Perhaps she needed a doctor.

Her mother dismissed the seamstress. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

"Just a couple of weeks. I should have told you, I suppose."

Her mother patted her hand. "Now you see why you need a gentle horse."

Sophie nodded, wondering when her mother had learned of the fall from the unbroken mare. "I did not mean to fall from Grace."

"I'm sure you didn't. I don't know when you had the opportunity. Your father tried to keep such a close eye on you. I suppose Keene slipped into your bedroom when we were all abed."

What did that have to do with falling from the horse? "Well yes, but—"

"It's quite all right, Sophie. No point in worrying about spilled milk. I shan't tell your father of this. Although he has his suspicions already."

"But what is wrong with me that I am so dizzy all the sudden?"

"It's quite normal. It shall pass in time."

"Do I need to see the doctor?"

"It's unnecessary. Perhaps later when you are settled you should have Keene arrange for your care. I am having a tray brought in. I want you to try to eat a little."

"Oh, Mama, I couldn't."

"Yes, you must keep up your strength. We shan't speak of this anymore. I daresay Keene is very persuasive, although I had thought . . . well never mind."

"He has a way of looking at me." Sophie blushed and realized she didn't want to discuss her rampant fascination with her future husband with her mother.

"Sophie, darling, that is all well and good, but you must think of behaving with more seemliness. In my day a young woman who was a little wild was looked upon with indulgence, but I'm afraid in today's society there is much less tolerance for untoward behavior."

"Should Keene dislike it?"

"You will be his wife and of course he will inform you of what he wants, but you must not speak of these things in the drawing room."

Sophie wasn't any more clear than a moment before, but sometimes her mother's explanations could get all tangled like a kitten's play yarn. Perhaps Keene would explain it to her better. She would ask him. "Yes, ma'am."

A servant knocked and entered the room with the tea cart.

* * *

Keene moved through the doorway and down the stairs to the library where, if he were lucky, he would find George in something less than a drunken stupor. He heard the rustle of Amelia's skirts as she followed him.

He flung back the door of the library and crossed the room. "Look who I have brought to see her papa."

George didn't look at him or the baby. "I'll ring for her nursemaid."

"Come, George, she is a pretty little thing. I daresay we should plan for her marriage. Perhaps I'll have a son, and we can pledge them to each other in the cradle."

"If that would please you."

George's dull response frustrated him. "And if my son is a no-good rascal, how should you feel then?"

George waved his hand as if dismissing the notion.

"Have you held her even once?" asked Keene softly.

"What care have you for the baby? Why are you always toting her around? Is there a chance she could be your brat?"

Amelia's stiff intake of breath brought both men to heel. She pressed her lips together as she crossed the room. "I'll just take her back to the nursery."

Keene reluctantly gave over the little bundle. "There is not a chance."

Amelia shut the door behind her, the fading sound of baby wails left the men in silence.

"That child did not choose her parents. She will know nothing of her lineage if you don't want it mentioned. I won't speak of it. Amelia only speaks of it when forced to, and Victor won't speak of it even if I have to shoot him again to keep his silence. You are the only father she will ever know."

George stared down at his desk.

Keene sank into one of the leather chairs by the window. "You disappoint me, sir. I thought you had more honor."

"I have so much honor, my friends trample over it gladly and laugh in their sleeves when I am too much the fool to realize."

"No one is laughing."

"I cannot look at that child without thinking of her conception."

"So Amelia was not virtuous. How many of us are?"

"I was." George's blue eyes met him sincerely.

"Well, then it is good that at least one of you knew what to do."

"You bastard."

"Yes. Well we all have our failings, George. Amelia has hers, but she loves you, and you were happy when you didn't realize that the child wasn't yours. She thought you knew and were just being kind in allowing her to keep her dignity."

"Did you know?"

"I knew the baby had been conceived before the marriage. All of us knew that when she began to show less than a month after your wedding."

"How you must have laughed at me."

"No one was laughing. I thought it was yours. Victor thought that the child could have been yours. It is only by your reaction and mine that he knows differently."

"I cannot look at her the same."

"Then look at her differently, but look at them both. The child who will know you as her father and the wife that is devoted to you now." Keene squirmed as he said the words. Was Amelia devoted enough?

George rubbed his hands over his face.

Would it ever be enough? "Think, man. She is your wife. You cannot turn your back on her, and the child doesn't deserve to be punished no matter who fathered her."

"What would you do? What if this little cousin of yours comes to you with another man's seed filling her belly?"

"I should make the most of it. I should not fault my future wife for a sin that I have repeatedly indulged in, and a child, any child, should never feel the lack of my affection."

"Then you do not love her, for you do not understand the pain of this."

"That I cannot, sir." Keene shifted in his chair. "I would wish that you and your wife would accompany me to my wedding."

"I am not going anywhere with her."

"Then come alone."

"I won't leave her in London with that man here too."

"Then I shall insist Victor come along, too."

"You just shot him. I heartily doubt he will dance at your wedding."

"If he agrees to accompany me, are you pledged to attend?"

George gave an abrupt laugh. "By all means."

So it was with the unfair advantage of knowing that Victor and he were on speaking terms that Keene pressed the bargain with George. Only the unfortunate circumstance of a rainstorm and a broken axle on the second coach resulted in the three of them pinned together in the confines of his carriage on the road to the Farthings' house.

Until now, Victor was the only one who required the use of the carriage, his shoulder not healed enough to ride a horse.

George pulled a flask from inside his coat. "I cannot conceive of how you thought this was a good idea."

From his corner, Victor quirked an eyebrow at Keene as if he wondered the same thing.

"George, do contrive to make sure you can stand through the ceremony."

"We should have stayed at the inn." George raised the flask.

"Just like old times," commented Victor facetiously.

Keene suspected it would never be like old times. Richard was dead. Amelia had slept with Victor and married George. He supposed if they followed their normal patterns, his turn with Amelia would be next, although they hadn't always shared women. Certainly, now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall George ever participating in the skirt-chasing they had done.

"We couldn't have stayed at the inn if I am to make my wedding."

"You do not seem terribly enthusiastic, else you should have planned to arrive a few days in advance."

Keene rubbed his forehead. "I am honoring my promise to her father. Besides, if we had not lost a day because of the problems with the other carriage we should not be so late."

Victor watched him. "I've never known you to be so concerned with a young woman's virtue."

"I am so. I never seduce unmarried gentlewomen."

"Now, where is the harm in seducing your future wife?" asked Victor.

"Perhaps we should talk of something else," suggested Keene.

Victor kicked the seat across from him. "Share the flask, George."

"I shall not share anything with you, sir."

"You already have. Give Keene some. He is in sore need of some Dutch courage."

"I am not," protested Keene.

"Was he always so stingy?" Victor asked of no one in particular.

George handed the flask to Keene. He took a swallow and absently passed it to Victor.

"I think I shall send her away."

"For heaven's sake, George. You cannot do that. You will ruin Amelia."

"She came to me ruined."

"Seemed in rather fine shape to me," commented Victor.

George lunged across the carriage, reaching for Victor's throat. For two days of traveling they had been spoiling for a fight. Keene was inclined to let them go at it. In the limited confines of the carriage a boot caught him in the shin. He grabbed the forgotten flask and stopped the spreading stain on the seat. He opened the carriage door and planted his boot in the nearest rear end and pushed.

The coach drew to a quick halt.

"Fine way to arrive at one's wedding," he muttered.

The two men rolled in the mud for a few seconds, until a completely sodden and soiled Victor broke away and climbed the steps of the carriage. "Damn, man, I was dry until now."

George stood outside in the streaming rain, his hands on his hips, his chest heaving. His lip bled.

"Is it necessary to keep needling him?"

Victor put his hand on his shoulder as he sat back down in the carriage. "He needs to get it out of his system instead of wallowing in his misery."

Victor kicked Keene in the other shin. "That is for fighting his fights for him. We all should have been better had you left well enough alone."

Keene took a long drink from the flask and handed it over. "Your servant, sir."

His bedraggled friends dripped mud over the seats of the carriage. The carriage he had meant to transport his new wife in tomorrow. Victor winced and clutched his shoulder. A black eye was forming above a scratch on his cheek. George's light brown hair was plastered to his head on one side, his cravat was askew and a button on his jacket hung by a thread.

"Tell the coachman to stop at the next inn that looks as if it might supply a bath, and get in the carriage, George."

He prayed he would make it to his wedding in time.

* * *

Sophie paced back and forth in her wedding gown. "Where is he?"

"He'll be here. He has probably been held up by the rain," her mother reassured her.

"What if he doesn't come?"

"He'll be here. His father is here, is he not?"

"What if he changed his mind?" What if she had so totally alienated him by biting him, he not only meant to call off the wedding, but to humiliate her by waiting until the she stood at the altar?

"Oh, miss, you know he'll be here," whispered Letty.

Sophie checked the window for about the thousandth time that morning. The door shut behind her, and she glanced around to see her father. "I suppose if he does not show up for the ceremony, Mr. Ponsby would step forward."

"If you wished to marry Ponsby, you should have accepted his offer." Her father's face appeared pinched and strained.

He must be worried, too. "Oh, Papa." She moved forward to hug her father. "I was teasing. I so very dislike waiting, and it is quite disagreeable of Keene to bring about a delay."

Her father absently patted her back. "I suppose we might have the ceremony tomorrow if necessary, but I don't know what we'll do with all the food Cook has prepared."