Their Wicked Wedding (16 page)

“Does he want something, then?” Martin asks. “Money?”

Another answer I have yet to learn. I’m now quite painfully aware that though I’ve spent an entire week dwelling on this matter, I still know very little, by my own fault.

“He must know that all of the family money is gone,” I say. “And the estate as well. It was only on every damn gossip site on the internet.”

Martin rubs his jaw. “Maybe he just wants to know his family. It’s possible he just found out about the connection and wanted to reach out.”

“It’s possible,” I concede. Once again I see that picture of the baby.

“What does Lou think about this? Or Lily, for that matter?” Martin asks. “Has she met the fellow as well?”

“Neither Louisa nor Lily even knows this man exists.”

“What? You haven’t told either of them? What about Lou’s fellow—Ward, isn’t it?”

“No one knows but me,” I say. “And Joe Osborne, my investigator.”

“Well, why the hell not? Don’t you think this is something you should be discussing with the rest of your family? It concerns them too, after all. Lou isn’t going to like that you’ve been keeping this from her. And you shouldn’t be keeping something like this from your future wife, either.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” He’s right, of course, but he also doesn’t know a damn thing about the week I’ve had. I know I shouldn’t have hidden this from Lily. And I’m ashamed to admit that I hardly even thought of mentioning it to Louisa, though I know that makes me all kinds of despicable.

“You don’t think he’s dangerous, do you?” Martin asks. He must have picked up on something in my expression.

“I don’t know,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “He’s given me no real reason to think he is, though he’s threatened to get lawyers involved. My gut is telling me something is wrong here. I don’t know what to do.”

Martin looks at me for a long time. Finally he reaches out and sets his hand on my shoulder again.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he says. “You’re going to forget about this for the next few days. You’re going to focus on your wedding. Afterward, you’re going to find the time to sit down with your sister and Ward and your wife and get their opinions on the situation.” He straightens. “If I were in your shoes, I’d find this fellow and invite him to lunch and ask him questions face-to-face. Why are you sending an investigator after him? If you’re going to listen to your gut, then you need to get your gut in front of this Mr. Harker and ask him your questions. You’ll have a better idea of what’s going on after you’ve given him a chance to explain himself.”

Damn him.
The man is right. As happy as I’d be if I never saw Mr. Harker again, I’ll be much happier if I actually get this settled and have my answers. And, as Martin has been so kind to point out, Louisa and Ward and Lily’s answers as well, since this is as much their problem as mine.

“I hate it when you talk sense, old man,” I say.

“Really? I thought that’s why your family kept me around all those years. It certainly wasn’t the food, what with you hiding every vegetable I tried to put in front of you.”

I smile. “You won’t see me hiding any vegetables this weekend, Martin. I promise on my honor as a Cunningham.”

“I’ll be watching. Now get out of here before Lily thinks you’re avoiding your duties.”

“Yes, sir.”

Martin turns back to his kitchen and immediately starts barking orders at his crew. It appears he’s become quite the tyrant since taking over Ventine’s. I shake my head and turn to go find my future wife. I’m not quite sure I feel
better
after speaking with Martin, but I do feel more confident about what I need to do from here.

On Monday, I’ll settle this Taran Harker business once and for all. But this weekend, nothing is going to stop me from having the best damn time of my life.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LILY

Sometime around 4:00 PM, I start to feel like I’m going crazy.

I love having my friends and family around, but with all the ups and downs of this week, it’s a little overwhelming to suddenly be surrounded by so many people. I catch a break when Lou and Ward finally join us. After spending most of the day in bed, Lou seems more than ready to socialize, and Ward also steps up as host, introducing himself to our guests. When I see that Regina and my dad have cornered Calder, I take the opportunity to slip outside for some fresh air.

I only mean to wander around the gardens right next to the house. But the weather is so nice and I’m so relieved to have a few minutes to myself that I find myself moving further and further away. I’m the bride—I’m allowed a walk, aren’t I? I feel bad for abandoning Calder to our guests, but I’ll make it up to him later.

It’s not until I’m halfway around the house and the maze comes into view that I remember the events of yesterday—and the fact that I never talked to Ward about getting some security in place around here. By the time he and Lou got back last night, in the wake of my worry for her, it had completely slipped my mind. And anyway, Ward has hardly left her side since the incident. I wouldn’t have bothered him with something like this when he has so many bigger concerns on his mind.

I’m not sure whether it’s the pre-wedding adrenaline or those two glasses of wine I had inside, but I’m suddenly feeling bold. If there’s a reporter on the property, then I’m going to make sure he knows he’s not welcome.

Something flutters in my stomach when I reach the maze. Not fear, exactly, though I probably should be afraid. I had an encounter with a reporter before that left me in the hospital. Maybe that’s why I feel like I need to do this. I need to take charge, to claim this weekend for myself and for Calder. So much of our relationship has been haunted by the press, but they can’t have our wedding, too. This is ours.

I’m at the head of the maze now. There’s no one in sight, but that doesn’t mean there’s no one here.

“I know you’re in there,” I call into the maze. “And I told you before that you’re not welcome here. I just wanted to let you know that I’m calling the police. So if you don’t want to be arrested, I suggest you leave this property now.”

Satisfied with my threat, I turn to go. But I only make it three steps before I hear something behind me.

“Wait!”

I freeze at the sound of that unfamiliar voice. I hadn’t actually expected someone to answer. Part of me had still almost believed that I was imagining everything all along, that the footsteps and the tingling feeling in my neck were just figments of my imagination, that the guy I saw from the window was just some sort of hallucination caused by nerves. But when I turn around, I can no longer delude myself.

The man at the head of the maze does look a lot like Calder, even this close. The nose is wrong, and his eyes are a bit too far apart, but he has a similar build and similar coloring. They look about the same age as well.

That fluttering nervousness in my stomach intensifies, but this time I’m pretty sure there’s a little fear mixed in.

“You need to get off of this property
now
,” I say, trying—and failing—to sound authoritative. I wasn’t expecting an actual confrontation, and now I’m not sure what to do.

Lou punched a reporter
, I remind myself, curling my hand into a fist. I’d rather not get arrested the day before my wedding, but I’m not completely against taking a swing at this guy if it comes down to it.

But he’s holding up his hands in a placating gesture now, and I don’t see anything I’d normally expect a reporter or photographer to be carrying. There’s no camera. No sign of equipment or recording devices of any kind. He isn’t carrying a bag, and though there’s a bulge in his front jeans pocket, it’s pretty obviously his cell phone.

“Who are you?” I demand. “Why are you here?” I reach for my phone, ready to threaten him again with a call to the police, but I remember too late that I don’t have it on me. It’s inside, probably still sitting on my nightstand.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I just want to talk.”

“No interviews.”

“No, not like that. I’m not a reporter, I swear it.”

“Prove it.”

“How?” he says, raising his arms and showing me what I already noticed—he’s completely empty-handed.

“Why else would you be here?” I ask him. My nervousness is increasing by the second.

“I told you—I just want to talk.”

“So you—what? Decided to hide in the maze for a while? Most people try the door. Or the phone.”

“I did,” he says. “The phone, at least. I’ve called Calder a dozen times this week.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, but I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.

And he’s looking at me like he’s waiting for me to make some kind of connection.

“I’m Taran Harker,” he says finally, as if that explains everything.

I shake my head. “That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”

“Good God, he hasn’t told you anything, has he? Unbelievable.”

“Told me what? Who the
hell
are you?”

“That’s a bit of a long story,” he says, “but the short answer is this—I’m Calder and Louisa’s brother.”

* * *

Martin’s prepared a feast for us, but I can’t seem to taste a thing.

We’re all sitting around the table in the formal dining room, hosts and guests alike, but I’m having a hard time concentrating on the conversation. I’m not even sure how I made it through the ceremony rehearsal. I suppose I should be thankful that having such a small wedding made the run-through short and relatively painless; I was having a difficult time paying attention to what our coordinator and officiant were saying, and I couldn’t bring myself to even look at Calder.

Now, we’re sitting next to each other, so it’s easier to avoid his gaze while I try to sort through everything Taran Harker told me.

He’s lying
, I keep telling myself.
Calder would never keep something like this from me.
But when I think of how strange Calder’s been acting all week, I have a hard time convincing myself of that. And why would this man mislead me about something this serious? Why would he say he’d been in regular contact with Calder when I can confirm or disprove his claims simply by asking?

That’s the problem, though. I haven’t had a moment alone with Calder since the moment I returned to the house. He has no idea I met anyone out in the garden, no idea that I know he has a brother he’s been keeping a secret.

And I have no idea why he’s been hiding this information.

Calder places his hand on my thigh and leans toward me.

“Is everything all right?” he murmurs in my ear.

No. Not even a little bit.
But I force myself to fight down my anger and confusion.

“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Just overwhelmed.” Overwhelmed with shock. This whole situation doesn’t make any sense at all.

You have to trust him
, I remind myself.
Why are you trusting a stranger over him? You haven’t even given him a chance to explain himself yet.
I just need to make it through dinner. Then, after everyone else has dispersed for the evening, I’ll ask him about it.

The very idea that Calder might hide something of this importance from me makes me sick. But that’s not the worst of it. If Taran Harker is telling the truth, if he’s really been in contact with Calder, and Calder has really brushed him off all those times, what kind of person does that make the man I’m about to marry? Calder, of all people, should understand the importance of family. I would have thought he’d be overjoyed to learn he had a brother. Instead, he won’t even talk to the man.

I shift in my seat, resisting the urge to touch the place where I’m keeping the handkerchief Taran gave me. It’s embroidered with Wentworth Cunningham’s initials, and apparently Wentworth gave it to Taran’s mother during their brief but passionate affair. I have no idea if it’s authentic, but he claims to have additional proof. He also claims that Calder has refused to look at any of it. He gave me the handkerchief in the hopes that I might convince Calder myself.

Part of me feels like I’ve betrayed Calder even by accepting the handkerchief. But what was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to react to a man claiming to be Calder’s brother?

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Calder says.

Apparently I’m doing a poor job of acting normal, and if I keep this up, the entire table will notice.

“Yeah,” I tell him, scooping up a big forkful of my food and mustering the biggest smile I can manage.

He doesn’t push the issue, but I can see he’s still concerned. I need to get my mind off of all of these unanswered questions, so I try to pick up on some of the conversations further down the table.

“…mashed potatoes are amazing!”

“Did you see the…”

“…so warm for March…”

With the odd assortment of childhood friends (mostly from my side), coworkers (mostly from Calder’s), and family, I was afraid the conversation this weekend would be awkward. But everyone seems to be getting along well—something partially attributable, I’m sure, to this meal Martin has prepared for us. I only wish I could enjoy it as much as everyone else seems to be.

“This was absolutely scrumptious!” I hear Regina say. She’s sitting two seats down from me, on the other side of my dad. Beside me, my dad is busy scooping up the last of his rosemary mashed potatoes with his fork.

He chuckles. “Yes, dear. It was scrumptious.”

I look up across the table at Lou and Ward, who are sitting just opposite us. Both seem to be enjoying Regina’s enthusiasm, and when Lou notices me looking at her, she flashes me a warm smile. She’s looking much better today, and she seems to enjoy playing host.

In spite of all the mixed-up things I’m feeling right now, I suddenly find myself imagining the future of this room—Lou and Ward hosting Christmas dinner or some other family get-together and filling every seat at this table with a smiling, familiar face. There will be kids running around and maybe even a dog or two. This room will be full of laughter and love.

It certainly feels like that now. I let my eyes wander down the table, taking in the face of every guest who’s come to share this special occasion with me and Calder. And then I think of Taran Harker, who can’t even get Calder to speak with him, let alone invite him to a function like this. I wonder what Lou will have to say about all of this. It’s fairly apparent that she knows nothing about the man in the maze beyond what I told her the other morning about hearing footsteps.

“Calder,” I hear from down the table. Regina is leaning forward over her plate, looking down the table past Dad and me to Calder on my opposite side. “Can we get that tour after dinner? I simply can’t wait to see more of this house!”

Our entire end of the table falls silent. It’s a normal enough request, and a simple mistake for anyone to make. Calder might know his way around this house with his eyes closed, but it’s no longer his home, and it’s not his right to give tours here. He and I are guests in this house, just as Regina is.

My eyes dart across the table to Ward. He doesn’t seem like the type to get angry at a stranger over a mistake like that, but I’ve also seen the pride in his eyes when he speaks of the restoration work he’s doing here. This is his home now, and he’s going to protect his right to call it that if need be. Indeed, his eyes aren’t on Regina at all; they’re dead set on Calder. And when I turn toward my fiancé, I see him staring back just as evenly. There’s some contest of pride and will going on here, and I’m just about to break the silence and end this awkwardness when Lou beats me to it.

“I think a tour is an amazing idea,” she says. “We’ll do one right after dessert.”

Both Calder and Ward seem to relax slightly, but I know that this isn’t over. The two of them are going to have to come to some kind of understanding eventually, but I hope they manage to ignore their differences until after the wedding.

In the meantime, I need to figure out a way to get through this tour. It’s too hard to keep putting up the front, to pretend that I’m not hurt and confused and—yeah, I’ll admit it—
worried
for Calder. But I’m also worried for that man out in the garden.

Somehow, I make it through the chocolate mousse Martin prepared for dessert. I don’t really taste it, even though I scarf the whole thing down, but everyone else seems to enjoy it. Ten minutes later, we find ourselves on our little tour of the house.

Lou, thank God, has stepped up as guide. And she seems to be enjoying it. She leads us through the hallways and into various rooms, pointing out both the original features and those updated or restored by Ward.

Calder walks next to me for most of the tour, and though he answers questions from various guests as we make our way through the house, for the most part, he’s silent. Sometimes I’ll catch him looking at me, and I know he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in my head right now. Hell, I wish
I
knew. But every time he asks me if something is bothering me, I shake my head again. I don’t want to cause a scene in front of all these people. I don’t want to fight in front of our guests. Because the longer I sit on this information, the more it twists around and around in my mind, the more I realize that this won’t be resolved with a calm, simple conversation. And that scares me.