The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor) (35 page)

Well, brilliant might not be entirely accurate, but close.

“Father hopes, once we are all family, Lord Stillwell will come to his rescue in some manner.”

“If he’s such a nice man, wouldn’t he be inclined to assist your father anyway?”

“Father would never ask. He scarcely knows Lord Stillwell. Besides, he has a great deal of pride. Even asking my . . . my husband will be difficult for him.”

“So you are marrying him to help your father?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I am marrying him because I am very fond of him, because he is a very nice man”—Win did wish she would stop referring to him as very
nice
—“and I think he will make an excellent husband. Regardless of my father’s difficulties, I would not marry him otherwise.”

“Marry me instead. I’ll find a way to help your father. My brothers say I have a great deal of potential when it comes to business and investing and that sort of thing.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“But you love me.”

“I know! And that’s the tragedy of it, isn’t it?” She stared at him for a long moment. “If you had come back when you were supposed to, if I had received your letters, if all sorts of things had happened differently . . .” She shook her head. “But they didn’t. And now, well, now it’s too late. I will not hurt him. I have tasted the kind of pain one feels when one has been abandoned and I will not inflict it on someone else. He’s a good man, Lawrence, and he does not deserve that.”

“I will not give up, you know.” Determination showed in the young man’s stance, in the tone of his voice and the look in his eye. It would have been most admirable had it not been that said determination was in regard to the woman Win was to marry. “I have been an idiot. I have made any number of mistakes, but this is one I will not make. I’ll be back, Caro. Tomorrow and the day after and every day until your wedding. And I will protest at your wedding as well if I need to. I will not lose you.” He nodded, turned and strode toward the far end of the field and the opening in the south wall of the hedge.

Caroline stared after him. Her manner resigned, her eyes touched with sorrow, she was the very picture of heartbreak. Win’s heart twisted. There was nothing to be done about it then.

He waited until Lawrence had disappeared through the hedge, then straightened and walked through the archway.

Caroline turned, caught sight of him and gasped. “Winfield!”

“Caroline.” He smiled. “I suspect we have a great deal to talk about, don’t we?”

Her gaze searched his. “Dare I ask how much of that you heard?”

“More than enough.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Caroline.” He took her hands. “In four days, you are to become my wife. I would like nothing better than that.”

“Good.” She raised her chin. “As I have no intention of not becoming your wife.”

“And yet I find it, oh, awkward to wed a woman who is in love with someone else.”

“Winfield, I—”

“We are going to have to do something about this.”

She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze directly. “I am still fully prepared to marry you.”

He raised a brow. “Fully prepared?”

“Dear me.” She winced. “That sounded awful, didn’t it?”

“Fully prepared is not exactly what one wishes to hear from his bride.”

“I am sorry. I never meant . . . that is to say . . .” She heaved a heartfelt sigh.

“Perhaps I can assist you.” Amusement sounded in his voice. “My first fiancée said she could not marry me because she had a better offer.”

“How very shortsighted of her,” Caroline said indignantly.

“I thought so. As it turns out, I suspect she would now agree.” He chuckled. “My second decided I was too amusing—frivolous was the word she used.”

Caroline stared. “What utter nonsense.”

“You, however.” He brought her hand to his lips. “You are in love with another man. And while you are
fully prepared
”—she grimaced—“to go through with our wedding, I’m afraid I cannot allow that.” He released her hand and shook his head. “I had planned to make you happy, Caroline. And it now seems the best way to do that is to allow you to follow where your heart leads.”

“Winfield, I—”

“I shall lend your father my assistance, of course. That will make this easier for your mother. However—” He paused. “It also seems to me that while your young man has at last realized his mistakes, one questions whether he has learned his lesson.”

“One does wonder,” she murmured.

“Winning your hand too easily might not be the way to begin a lifetime together. Perhaps he shouldn’t be allowed to walk back into your life and sweep you away without some sort of, oh, amends being made.”

She stared at him thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

“Do you trust me, Caroline?”

She gazed into his eyes and grinned. “Why I believe I do, my lord.”

He explained what he had in mind and her eyes widened. “You are a wicked, wicked man, Winfield.”

“I do try,” he said in a modest manner.

“And a good man as well.” Her gaze met his and she smiled. “I quite envy the woman who at last becomes your wife. She will be a very fortunate creature.”

“Fortunate or not”—he cast her a wry smile—“she is apparently a difficult creature to find.”

She laughed. It struck him that he would not hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life. The thought would have been unbearable had he been in love with her. Had she been the love of his life. As she was not, he rather liked the idea of uniting her with the love of hers.

Once again, he had planned a wedding at Fairborough Hall and, by God, this time there was going to be one.

Win threw open the library door and stalked into the room in his best Viscount Stillwell, heir to the Earl of Fairborough manner. He did so love playing viscount and heir to the hilt.

Caroline’s Lawrence paced the floor and pulled up short when Win stepped into the room. His eyes widened. “My lord, my apologies. I received a note.... I did not . . . that is, I expected—”

“You expected to see Miss Hibbitt.” Win strode to his father’s desk and sat down.

“Yes, sir.” Caution sounded in the young man’s voice.

Win gestured for him to take the chair directly in front of the desk. Lawrence reluctantly sat down, the expression on his face no doubt exactly the same at that on Win’s face whenever he had sat in that chair to face his father’s wrath at some indiscretion or misdeed. Odd, Win had sat in his father’s chair any number of times, but he’d never noticed that it was slightly higher than the chair it faced. And whatever miscreant sat in that chair. Indeed, this subtly elevated position gave whoever sat behind the desk a distinct advantage. How very clever of whichever earl had discovered this.

“I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.” Win pinned the younger man with a hard look. “I am Viscount Stillwell.”

Lawrence swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

“And you are Mr. Royce, I believe.”

Lawrence nodded.

“The youngest son of the Earl of Thadwick.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have four older brothers do you not, Mr. Royce?”

“I do, sir.”

“What are your prospects then, Mr. Royce?” Win leaned back in his chair and studied the young man. “Unless a dire disaster strikes most of your family, you will not be the next earl.”

“No, of course not. I do have ambitions and plans, however. I am said to show great promise in the area of investment.” He stopped and stared at Win. “Forgive me, my lord, but what business is this of yours?”

“You intend to steal my fiancée, Mr. Royce.” Win narrowed his eyes, leaned forward and met Lawrence’s gaze sternly. “I wish to know if you are worthy of her. Or perhaps I should simply assume you are not and demand satisfaction. You should know I am an excellent shot with a dueling pistol.”

“Dueling is illegal, sir.”

“That would indeed make it more of a challenge.” Win cast him a wicked smile. “I have always enjoyed a challenge.”

“Well then, sir.” Lawrence got to his feet and squared his shoulders. “Is it my understanding, as you issued the challenge, the choice of weapons falls to me. I too am an excellent shot and—”

“Oh, sit down, Mr. Royce.” Win rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. “Nobody is going to shoot anyone, although make no mistake, I would be the victor in such a confrontation. Now, sit down.”

Lawrence sat.

“But were I to shoot you, no doubt one of your brothers would feel it necessary to do the same to me. Then my cousin would, of course, have to dispatch him and then another one of your brothers would do him in and so on and so forth. The next thing you know, it is the Montagues and the Capulets all over again.”

“Then there’s to be no duel?” Caution edged Lawrence’s voice.

“Not today.”

“Good.” Lawrence blew a relieved breath. “I don’t mind telling you, sir, my father would, well, let us simply say he would not be at all pleased if I were to be involved in a duel or anything of that nature. Especially not after the incident with the . . .”

“The Austrian count’s daughter?”

Lawrence stared. “How did you know about that?”

“How does one ever know about things like that?” Win said in an enigmatic manner and realized his father did precisely the same thing. Perhaps it was the chair itself that made whoever sat in it sound at once all-knowing yet still rather vague.

“Please don’t tell me the incident has become fodder for England’s gossips.”

Win could confess that he had overheard the young man mention the Austrian count’s daughter to Caroline, but then he would have to admit he had been eavesdropping, which would alter the moral balance of their discussion. At the moment, Win was the injured party and therefore had the advantage. “Not as far as I know.”

“Then how . . . Never mind.” Lawrence shook his head. “It scarcely matters, I suppose.” He paused. “If you do not intend to shoot me, what do you intend to do?”

“I suppose that depends on you.”

Lawrence’s brow furrowed. “On me?”

Good Lord. Had Win been that stupid when he was Lawrence’s age? Probably. “Do you or do you not intend to prevent Caroline from marrying me?”

“Oh.” His expression cleared and he nodded. “I do. I most definitely do.”

“Why?”

“Because I love her and she loves me.”

“And?”

“And . . . and therefore she cannot marry you.”

On second thought, Win had not been that stupid. “You do realize your actions have consequences. Are you prepared for them?”

Confusion shone in the young man’s eyes. “Consequences?”

“Yes, consequences. Marriage. Are you prepared for marriage?”

“Marriage?”

“Yes, marriage,” Win said sharply. “You know. One woman, forever and ever, until the day you breathe your last. Marriage.” Win studied him closely. “You did ask her to marry you instead of me.”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t really mean . . .”

Win stared in disbelief. “What did you mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure exactly.” He leaned forward in an earnest manner. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. The words just came out of their own accord. It did seem the right thing to say at the time. You understand.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You never said something to a woman in the heat of the moment that wasn’t quite what you meant?”

“I never asked one to marry me!”

“You did ask a few others,” Lawrence said under his breath.

“Two others and neither of those proposals were impulsive.” Win glared. “They were both well thought out.” He paused. “Well, perhaps not the first. I was, oh, infatuated I would say and marriage seemed like an excellent idea. The second, however, was extremely well thought out. In hindsight, perhaps too well thought out. It was a rational, sensible decision and that itself was probably a mistake.”

“Was asking Caroline to marry you a mistake as well?”

“I didn’t think so at the time, but then I didn’t know she was in love with someone else.” He paused. “No, it was not a mistake. She is a lovely woman, the kind of woman one could easily spend the rest of one’s days with. She is amusing and clever and knows her own mind. Caroline is a woman one could easily love.” Too easily.

“Yes, she is.” Lawrence stared. “Do you love her then?”

“I am extremely fond of her,” he said staunchly. “But I cannot marry a woman who is in love with someone else.”

“Well, then there’s nothing more to talk about is there?” Lawrence grinned and got to his feet.

“Sit down!”

Lawrence plopped back down.

“Perhaps you did not give this due consideration, but if this wedding is cancelled, Caroline and I will be thrust into scandal. We will be the center of gossip. Speculation will be rampant. People will say the most unkind things about the two of us. But, as is the way of such things, she will bear the brunt of it. Her reputation will be in question if not ruined. Scandal does not particularly concern me. But I suspect it concerns her.” Win narrowed his eye. “I will not permit that.”

“Oh?” Lawrence squirmed in his seat.

“There is only one way to avoid scandal.”

“There is?”

“I have no intention of cancelling yet another wedding.”

“You don’t?” Lawrence said weakly.

“I do not.” Win sighed. “Mr. Royce, let me ask you this. Did you or did you not come here to stop this wedding?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“Because you love her.”

“I do.”

“And can you imagine your life without her in it?”

“No, of course not, I . . .” Lawrence paused. “I do want to marry her, don’t I?”

“So it would appear.”

“There really isn’t any other choice, is there? It’s the only way to keep her with me for the rest of my days.” He thought for a moment. “It doesn’t sound quite as dire as it did a moment ago. Indeed, the more I think about it, the more delightful it sounds.” He grinned. “You know, on occasion one says things in the heat of the moment one truly means. By God, I shall marry Caroline!”

“Excellent.” Win nodded. “Then I suggest you send word to your family. They will want to be here. There are any number of arrangements that need to be made as well. Special licenses and all that.”

Lawrence’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Mr. Royce, I am beginning to think you are not as intelligent as I had hoped you were.” Win leaned forward. “In order to avoid scandal, the wedding will proceed as scheduled. However, I will not be the groom.”

“Then . . .” Realization dawned on the younger man’s face. “Me?”

Win nodded. “You.”

“Oh.” Lawrence stared for a long moment, a stunned look on his face. At last he smiled. “Oh.”

“One does hope there is more to your repertoire than
oh
.” Win resisted the urge to once more roll his eyes toward the ceiling. “Now, I suggest you find your bride and deliver her the happy news. I shall arrange for you to speak to Sir William privately. I’ll have to break the news to my parents. Again.” He shuddered. “There are any number of other arrangements that need to be dealt with as well.”

Lawrence nodded mutely.

“Don’t just sit there. There is much to do and only three days to accomplish it all.”

“Yes, sir.” Lawrence jumped to his feet, turned to leave and then turned back. “You have my thanks, my eternal gratitude for this. I shall never forget it.”

“Yes, well, that makes it all worthwhile then.”

Lawrence grinned and started to leave.

“Mr. Royce.”

Lawrence turned back.

“There is one caveat, as it were.” Win rose to his feet, narrowed his eyes and met the young man’s gaze. “I fully intended to spend the rest of my life making Caroline happy. Should I ever hear so much as a whisper, the faintest hint of gossip, a suggestion in passing that she is unhappy for whatever reason, I will not rest until I have destroyed you and perhaps your family as well. And, make no mistake, I have the means to do so. Do you understand?”

Lawrence stared. “You do love her, don’t you?”

“I . . . I am extremely fond of her. Now, do you understand?”

“Completely, sir.” Lawrence straightened his shoulders and nodded. “Let me assure you, you have nothing to fear on that score. I shall cherish her for the gift she is.” He cast Win a giddy sort of grin. “I’m going to marry Caroline.” With that, he nodded and took his leave.

Good Lord. Win sank back into his chair. Was this a disaster narrowly averted or debacle yet to come? There would certainly be gossip, but with the wedding at Fairborough Hall and Win in attendance, it would be more speculative than anything else. That was a matter for later. For now, he had to once again tell his parents he would not be married. Not an easy task, but he had no doubt he had done the right thing.

Still . . . He drummed his fingers absently on the desk. Why did doing the right thing always have to be so bloody difficult?

 

 

 

At long last there had been a wedding at Fairborough Hall. The bride was almost ethereal in her beauty, glowing with happiness. Win’s throat tightened a bit at the look of her. It was the sentimentality of the day, nothing more than that.

The groom was understandably nervous. But the tremor in his voice at the start of the ceremony had faded and, by the end, it was strong, solid and steadfast. The voice of a man who had at last determined what he wanted, his course in life. The voice of a man in love.

Watching the happy couple, Win tried and failed to ignore a touch of regret. He had never regretted not marrying Felicia or Lucille. He knew now marriage to either one would have been a dreadful mistake. But Caroline, well, Caroline could have been the love of his life if, of course, she hadn’t already loved someone else. No, he couldn’t regret losing Caroline. In truth, he’d never really had her to lose. But when she gazed into her new husband’s eyes, as if he were the moon and the stars and all things wonderful, it was indeed regret that swept through him. Regret that he had yet to find someone who would gaze at him that way.

No, he had not fallen in love with Caroline and his heart had not been shattered.

It had simply cracked a little.