The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (29 page)

Gray stared. “With whom?”

Sam cast him a wry look.

“There’s no one . . .” Gray’s eyes widened with surprise. “Delilah?”

“I’m afraid so.” Sam nodded. “And I’m fairly certain she’s in love with me as well.”

“She doesn’t even like you.”

Sam shrugged.

“What are you not telling me?”

“For one thing, we did meet in New York.”

“I knew it!” Gray paused. “And? Obviously there’s more.”

“And I haven’t been able to get her out of my thoughts since then.” Sam shook his
head. “She’s haunted me, Gray. Whether I’m awake or asleep, she’s lingered, in my
mind, in my dreams. I would have followed her back here long ago if she hadn’t been
so adamant about never seeing me again.” He chuckled in a mirthless manner. “Almost
rude about it, really.”

“This explains so much,” Gray murmured.

“I have never met a woman in my life who was more opposed to, well, love, than she
is. I always thought love is ultimately what all women wanted, especially when it
came to marriage.”

“I thought Lenore would have awakened you to that fallacy.”

“One would think. But it’s not the same.” He shook his head. “In ways too numerous
to mention, Delilah is nothing like Lenore. Except that love is not on her list of
requirements for marriage.”

“You’ve asked her to marry you?” Shock rang in Gray’s voice.

“I am not so stupid as to ask a question I already know the answer to, when the answer
is one I don’t want to hear.”

“This is extremely confusing.”

“Believe me, I am well aware of that.”

“Let me see if I have this right.” Gray puffed his cigar thoughtfully. “You love her.
You think she loves you. But you won’t ask her to marry you for fear she’ll say no
because she doesn’t want to marry for love?”

“That’s pretty much it.” Sam stared at the glowing tip of his cigar. “If I live to
be a thousand years, I will never understand the English. Or women for that matter.”

“We can be a confusing lot but no man of any nationality understands women.”

“Except the French and maybe the Italians.”

“No, they just think they do.”

“Delilah has this . . . this perfect match she’s determined to marry.”

“Ah yes.” Gray nodded in a knowing manner. “A gentleman with a lofty title and an
even greater bank account.”

“Exactly.”

“You have more money than she could spend in a lifetime.”

“Yes, but it’s new money. I’m nouveau riche, you know. Apparently, there is a stigma
to that although I’m pretty sure it spends the same way. Plus, I’m American. An unforgivable
sin in her eyes.”

“Good God no.” Gray heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “That will never do.”

“And regardless of the position my family—mostly my mother—has clawed out in society
we don’t have titles in America.” Sam puffed on his cigar. “There’s more, of course.
Basic differences between us. Delilah values tradition whereas I am aimed toward the
future. As she has pointed out to me on more than one occasion, we have nothing in
common.”

“Except love.”

“Which is not what Delilah wants. She thinks our differences are insurmountable. I
don’t.” He paused. “She is protecting herself from heartbreak. I can understand that.
It’s a most sensible position, really. Still . . .” He glanced at his friend. “What
am I supposed to do, Gray?”

“I might not be the best person to give advice in this situation. It took me eleven
years to accept that Camille was the only woman in the world for me.”

“I’d prefer not to wait eleven years.”

“Well, you do have a few choices.” Gray drew on his cigar thoughtfully. “You could
fight for her. Try to convince her she’s wrong. Come up with a way to make her see
that love is worth the risk of heartbreak. Although I should warn you.” He grimaced.
“I have known her all her life and she’s fairly stubborn.”

“Is she?” Sam’s brow rose. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Or you could bow to her wishes, I suppose.” He paused. “You should probably consider
that she might actually be right. The differences between you may be too great to
overcome. Ultimately, you could both be miserable for the rest of your lives.”

“Do you think she’s right?”

“No, I don’t.” Gray puffed on his cigar. “I have been in love with Camille for much
of my life. Even when I intended never to see her again, when she had married someone
else, she was always with me. Somewhere, in the back of my mind or maybe in my heart,
I don’t know, but she was always there. I could no more forget about her than I could
stop breathing. But it wasn’t until I returned to England and saw her again that I
realized, in spite of my best efforts, she was the love of my life.” He aimed his
cigar at Sam. “And life wasn’t worth living without her.”

“What are you saying?”

“I suppose I’m saying even if I knew marrying Camille would end in certain heartbreak,
I would rather have a moment of happiness with her than a lifetime without her,” he
said slowly. “I’m saying the joys of love are worth the risks.”

“Well, now that we have you convinced, how do I convince your future sister-in-law?”

“I have no idea. I wish I had some sage, sound, definitive advice for you but I don’t.”
He shook his head. “Delilah is nothing like Camille. Of all three sisters, Delilah
is the most practical and sensible. She is the one who has always done precisely what
was expected of her in all matters. Up to and including the type of man she married.”
Gray thought for a moment. “I don’t know that you can change that.”

“I can try,” Sam said grimly.

“It seems to me you are a risk she is not willing to take.” He paused. “But then she’s
never taken risks before. She’s never strayed from the path laid out for her. Never
veered from the boundaries of proper and expected behavior. Delilah is not an adventurous
sort.”

“Probably not.” Although for a few days in New York, she was.

“Answer me this,” Gray said slowly. “If she was, oh, say, an investment, what would
be your next step?”

“That’s a ridiculous analogy.”

“No, it’s not. Just think about it for a moment.” Gray’s brow furrowed in thought.
“If she were a company you wished to purchase, what would you do?”

“I don’t know.” He glared at his friend. “Evaluate its strengths and weaknesses, I
suppose. Try to determine where it’s vulnerable. Whether the plans for future operation
and expansion are viable. Appraise its debts, assets, that sort of thing.”

“So what are Delilah’s strengths?”

“This is absurd.” Sam sighed. “I don’t know. She’s intelligent. She’s beautiful.”
He thought for a moment. “She’s stronger than she thinks. I can’t explain exactly
how I know that but I do. It’s an observation more than anything. She plays chess
nearly as well as she plays tennis. She’s passionate about her convictions. She’s
amusing. I enjoy her company. I enjoy just being with her.”

“And her weaknesses?”

“She’s intelligent. But she doesn’t realize the value of that. She’s stubborn, of
course, but you know that. She absolutely refuses to see that she could possibly be
wrong.”

“Perhaps you have much in common after all.” Gray puffed his cigar and stared into
the distance. “So, does that make anything clearer? Do you see what you have to do
now?”

“Not at all.” Sam blew a perfect smoke ring. “Haven’t a clue.”

“Damn. Sorry, old man, that was the best I could do.” Gray blew a ring to match his
friend’s. “Well, you have time to figure something out. Without access to her money
she has nowhere else to go. She’s essentially trapped here.”

“That problem has been resolved, although I suspect it will be some time before everything
is set to rights. Even if everything moves faster than expected, she’ll be here at
least through the wedding. So that gives me . . . what?” He glanced the other man.
“Twelve days until the wedding?”

Gray nodded. “Plenty of time. You’ve accomplished more with less.”

“You know, I think I could compete if this question of marriage involved a real suitor.
If there was actually another man she had set her sights on.”

“I’d wager on you in a heartbeat.”

“But competing with an ideal, with a concept, regardless of how flawed it might be
. . .” He shook his head. “There’s nothing solid to fight.”

“Hard to confront something that’s little more than an idea.”

“Exactly.”

Both men fell silent. Beside him, Gray was lost in his own thoughts, his own problems.

Sam still had no idea how to reach Delilah, how to convince her love was worth the
risk of heartbreak. He was willing to chance it and he had been hurt in the past.
But then Delilah had never really taken risks until she’d allowed herself to fall
in love with her husband. Gray was right from the beginning. Lord Hargate had been
an idiot. Now, it was up to Sam to make her believe in love and magic and forever.

How was still the question.

When it came right down to it, maybe Delilah’s only true weakness was that, even if
she refused to admit it, she was in love with him.

Or maybe that was his.

Eight days before the wedding . . .

Millworth Manor was fast filling up.

While Sam and Gray spent nearly all their time at the carriage house, whenever they
did venture back to the manor someone new had arrived. Delilah’s parents had finally
returned home. Lord Briston seemed a good enough sort although Sam was still confused
as to the details of his untimely death and subsequent resurrection. Lady Briston
was lovely but a bit flighty. Still, one suspected there was steel beneath her capricious
surface. She reminded him of his mother especially given the way she studied him like
an insect under glass. It was a more than a little unnerving. Lady Dunwell had also
arrived although apparently her husband wouldn’t join them until the day before the
wedding. Then there was Lord Charborough, introduced as a friend of the family. He
appeared pleasant enough although there was something about him that made Sam vaguely
uneasy. Perhaps it was because no man had the right to be quite that handsome. Or
perhaps it was because he was everything that Sam was not. Everything Delilah wanted.

After two full days of working at the carriage house, he and Gray decided Sam and
Jim would go into London to try to find parts they couldn’t fix, or have parts fabricated
to their specifications, as well as look for space to rent to repair the vehicle.
It made sense to be closer to whatever supplies might still be needed. Besides, it
might be necessary to telegraph Mr. Benz for advice. That would be much easier in
London. If they could find an appropriate place, Jim and the motorwagon would move
into the city. As London was so easily accessible, Sam and Gray would meet with Jim
every few days to check on his progress.

Sam and Jim’s foray into London served Gray well. Apparently, Camille was somewhat
irritated at his constant absence from the manor. Not, as Gray pointed out, that his
presence was necessary anyway. The groom, he confided, was nothing more than a theatrical
prop. Necessary to the plot of the play but all in all a strictly minor character.
Regardless, the bride was not happy especially given that her father had joined the
men several times when he was expected to be elsewhere. Lord Briston was fascinated
by the motorwagon but, as he always brought cigars and a decanter of good Scottish
whisky with him, neither Sam nor Gray thought the vehicle was the primary attraction.
Oddly enough, they didn’t seem to get as much accomplished when Lord Briston was with
them either.

“I didn’t see you when you arrived back yesterday,” Gray said when he met Sam at the
carriage house. “I assume you came directly here. I would have joined you but . .
.” He shuddered. “It appears the love of my life is insane.”

Sam laughed. “Come now, Gray. It can’t be that bad.”

“You have no idea,” Gray said darkly.

“I have five sisters. I have some idea.”

“I have no sisters. I had no warning and no idea a wedding could turn a perfectly
lovely woman into some kind of unrecognizable creature from the depths of hell. Frankenstein’s
creation pales in comparison.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Sam chuckled.

“I wish I was.” Gray shook his head. “If anything I’m being kind.” He glanced from
side to side as if afraid of being overheard and lowered his voice. “Did you know
the wrong shoes can ruin an otherwise perfect wedding? And the shoes that Camille
ordered from London are apparently wrong. Which seems to be part of a conspiracy to
completely ruin her life. Did you know, if you point out in a manner designed to be
helpful, that the shoes look fine to you, you will bring the wrath of a thousand furies
down upon your head?”

“I would have guessed that one.”

“Well, I am not so astute.” Gray winced at the memory. “Did you know that if the dresses
her sisters are wearing as her attendants are not the right shade of peach they will
clash with the satin flowers on her dress? Peach, Sam, peach!” He shook his head.
“I thought it was a fruit.”

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing. Poor Gray was clearly out of his element.

“Did you know if some of the people coming to this wedding, people I’ve never met
by the way, are forced to sit next to one another at dinner it could ignite the kind
of feud that brings down nations?”

Sam choked back a laugh.

“Camille says it has to be perfect. Everything. Every detail, every aspect, every
minuscule point. Perfect.”

“But she’s been through this before.”

Gray waved off the comment. “She says this is different. She says this wedding is
much more important because it’s a miracle that we found our way back to each other.
She says this is the beginning of the rest of our lives, therefore it has to be perfect.
And woe be it to anyone who stands between her and perfection. I feel almost as sorry
for Teddy as I do for myself. I never realized part and parcel of the work of the
person planning the event was to keep the bride sane. Fortunately, Teddy is remarkably
calm and seems to have everything well in hand.” His eyes narrowed. “But Beryl keeps
egging Camille on and delights in doing so.”

In spite of his best efforts, Sam laughed.

“This is not amusing!” Gray had a look of panic about him.

“It will be over soon.”

“Eight days and nine hours, more or less.” Gray blew a long breath. “I’m not sure
I can survive until then. Worst of all . . .”

He’d never seen his friend like this. Gray was right. He shouldn’t be amused. But
he couldn’t help it. “I can’t wait to hear what’s worst of all.”

“I can’t stop thinking, I know it’s absurd but, still, I can’t get it out of my head.
. . .”

“What?”

“What if she stays like this?” Genuine fear shone in Gray’s eyes. “What if this is
just the beginning? What if this wedding has pushed her over the edge into real insanity
or revealed her true self?”

“Well,” Sam said in an offhand manner. “You can always tell her you’ve changed your
mind and call off the wedding.”

“Now you’re insane.” Gray scoffed. “First of all, the murderous look in her eyes would
then be directed at me. And if she didn’t murder me, Beryl certainly would. She’s
wanted to do so for years. Beryl would jump at the chance to shoot me or, more likely,
draw and quarter me. Slowly. And with a great deal of pleasure on her part. No, believe
me, Sam, it’s better to take my chances on life with a madwoman than to run afoul
of Beryl.”

“Good man.” Sam clapped his friend on the back. “Now, do you want me to tell you what
happened in London?”

“Absolutely, but before we get into that . . .” Gray smiled in a wicked manner. “There’s
a price to be paid for your absence from the manor, even if we both know you’re only
trying to avoid Delilah.”

“Not at all,” Sam lied.

Avoiding Delilah until he could figure out exactly what to do about her had seemed
like a good idea in the beginning. It had been four days since he’d so much as gotten
a glimpse of her and he suspected she was avoiding him as well. Unfortunately, he
was no closer to coming up with an answer for what to do and he couldn’t avoid her
forever. Nor did he really want to. Nights were the worst. He lay in his bed tossing
and turning and thinking about how she was only steps away from him. Damn it all,
he missed the woman. Missed talking to her and teasing her and even arguing with her.
Still, he had only one idea and it might be worse than doing nothing at all.

“My thoughts are entirely engaged in trying to help Jim get this blasted machine back
in perfect working condition. The fact that in doing so, I am also avoiding awkward
encounters with Delilah, just happens to be an unexpected benefit.”

“Then you won’t mind joining us tonight for dinner although you really have no choice.
Call it a command performance if you will.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“While you were gone yesterday, Lord Radnor, his wife, and his two daughters arrived.
Lord Radnor is Lord Briston’s second cousin I believe, or something like that. The
daughters are relatively attractive and looking for husbands.”

“Aren’t they all?” Sam murmured.

“Also joining our ranks are Mr. Martin, his mother, and sister. She is in the market
for a husband as well. No idea how they’re related but they are. Or at least I think
they are. Oh yes, and Lord Latimer and Lord Dantrey are expected this afternoon.”

“That is quite a crowd.”

“That’s just the beginning. But it does appear that the hunt is on.”

“The hunt?”

“The spouse hunt. There is nothing like a wedding to spur the forces of matchmaking
into full-blown splendor.” He grimaced. “Camille confided to me, before she went insane,
that her mother had made certain there was a substantial number of eligible gentlemen
about. Although I gather the very dashing Lord Charborough was a last-minute addition.”

“Oh?” Sam raised a brow.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no idea why.” He paused. “Although if one is hoping
to encourage suitable matches . . .”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?”

“I suppose that depends on how you define perfect.” Gray shrugged. “He does have a
castle I hear.”

“Of course he does.”

“But when you look at it, he’s no more perfect than Latimer or Dantrey or Martin.”

“I thought it was Mr. Martin?”

“It is, but he is the heir to an earldom.”

“Imagine my surprise.”

“So . . .” Gray adopted an overly nonchalant manner. “No queries about Delilah? No
wondering if she is pining away without your presence?”

Sam raised a brow. “Is she?”

“It’s hard to tell what with all the wedding anxiety in the air. She seems a bit on
edge but then they all do.” Gray studied him curiously. “I gather from your tone you
have yet to decide what to do about the fair Delilah.”

“You have always been perceptive.” Sam paused. “I have given it some thought.”

“Some?”

“All right, aside from the motorwagon I’ve thought of nothing but her.”

“And?”

“I’m an intelligent man. I’ve built what some would call a small empire. You would
think such a man would come up with some way to win the heart of the woman he loves.”

“Love has nothing to do with intelligence.”

“I accused her of falling in love with me. I never told her I had fallen in love with
her.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe I should tell her how I feel.”

“That’s it, that’s the right attitude. Lay your heart out before her like a rug and
hope she doesn’t grind it into the ground.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Not me.” Gray shook his head. “I am too busy dealing with a lunatic bride to worry
about what you are going to do. You are on your own.”

“Always good to know where you stand.”

“I do what I can.” Gray paused. “You should probably do something though, even if
it’s wrong. You can’t keep avoiding her and hope all will fall into place. It won’t.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“I know you have your own problems but do promise me you will be at dinner. That will
be one less thing for Camille to be annoyed about.”

Sam chuckled. “Believe me, I don’t want to draw her ire.”

“Yes, well, we would hate to distract her from the true villain of the piece, which
is apparently imperfection in whatever form it might take. Be it in the wrong color
or the wrong seating or the wrong shoes.”

“At least it’s not the wrong groom.”

“There is that.” Gray heaved a resigned sigh. “So tell me, how did things go in London?”

“Better than expected.” Sam briefly explained that they had found an ideal location
to rent and Jim was even now making arrangements to transport the vehicle to London.

“That’s one less thing to worry about.” Gray stared apprehensively in the direction
of the manor. “I suppose I should be getting back.”

“Try not to sound so eager.”

“I am eager for this to be over.” He squared his shoulders. “Eight days and nine hours,
more or less, and Camille will be my wife and either once again be the woman I love
or . . .” He shuddered. “I can’t even begin to think what
or
might be.”

Sam chuckled. “She’ll be fine. Someday you’ll look back on this and—”

“What? Laugh?” Gray shook his head. “Only if we survive.”

“You will.” Sam cast him an encouraging smile. “Aren’t you the man who told me love
was worth the risk?”

“I didn’t know I’d be taking my life in my hands when I said it.”

“But you meant it.”

“Of course I did.” Gray drew a deep breath. “This is just a momentary aberration.
It will all be over soon enough.”

“And well worth it.”

“I keep telling myself that,” he said under his breath. “Dinner is at the usual time.
Aside from the fact that Camille wants you there, I could use an ally.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I would given half the chance.” He cast his friend a halfhearted smile and headed
toward the manor.

Gray was right, Sam had to do something. Declaring himself to Delilah didn’t strike
him as the best move but he had no other ideas.

It wasn’t bad enough that the woman laid claim to his heart; she had turned him into
an idiot as well.

Delilah greeted him politely enough when they gathered in the parlor before dinner
and then pointedly turned her attention to Charborough. Sam was introduced to all
the other members of the party and scarcely had any time at all to dwell on the way
Delilah flirted with Charborough. He’d never in his life been jealous yet jealousy
was surely what he was feeling now. Still, two could play that game and he turned
his attentions toward the lovely Radnor sisters and the equally charming Miss Martin.
None of whom seemed to find his being American to be anything other than delightful.
Under other circumstances, he would have found the three young ladies most amusing
and would have enjoyed their vying for his favor. But tonight, there was only one
woman on his mind. Delilah, of course, was busy laughing at anything Charborough said
or tapping her fan flirtatiously on his arm or even gazing into his eyes. Worst of
all, Charborough seemed every bit as taken with her.