The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (3 page)

Gray halted and glared. “So are you or are you not planning to invest in this man’s
invention?”

“Yes. And no.” Sam grinned and strolled down the road.

Gray hurried after him. “Yes and no?”

“That’s what I said.”

“If you would be so good as to explain straightaway rather than play this silly game—”

“Benz is starting to produce his motorwagons.” Sam slanted a fast grin toward his
friend. “I bought one.”

“Imagine my surprise,” Gray said wryly.

“I’m having it shipped here. You remember Jim?” James Moore had been Sam’s right-hand
man for the last four years. There were times when Sam wondered how he had ever gotten
along without him.

“Of course.”

“He’s accompanying the motorwagon. Barring any unforeseen difficulties, it should
be here within the week.”

Gray’s jaw tightened with impatience. “And what, dare I ask, do you intend to do with
it?”

“I’m going to try it out. See how it . . . feels.” He glanced at his friend. “See
what the real potential is. I want to determine for myself if it really is the way
of the future and if it is, I want to be at the beginning of it.”

“And?”

“And, it seems to me that there is nothing rich Americans like better than anything
liked by European aristocracy, particularly the British.”

Gray nodded. “As evidenced by the grand mansions the newly rich are constructing in
America with rapt abandon. Present company included, of course.”

“It’s really my mother and sisters, you know.” Sam waved off the comment. The tendency
toward excess of his mother and sisters was a source of constant irritation. “But
they are exactly the type of people I’m talking about.”

“And yet I still have no idea what you are trying to say.”

“What I am trying to say is that if the British aristocracy embraces the motorwagon
as a plaything of the wealthy, Americans won’t be far behind. And once the upper crust
in America latches on to something, everyone else wants a version of it. Eventually,
there could be motorwagons or
automobiles
all over the civilized world.” Sam grinned. “And it all starts here.”

“Here?”

“Benz expects to be producing and selling motorwagons within the next year, beyond
the handful he has already sold.”

“Once he gets that steering problem solved?”

“Exactly.” Sam nodded. “He and I have reached an agreement whereby I will set up a
small factory in England to produce his machines, with the finest materials, directed
toward the upper class.” Sam paused. He was fairly certain his friend would go along
with his plan but this was Gray’s wedding and the English had always struck Sam as
being somewhat reserved about mixing business with social events. “I thought your
wedding would be the perfect place to demonstrate it and gauge interest. Perhaps even
solidify some advanced orders.”

“We rarely make rash decisions in this country.” Gray thought for a moment. “You’ll
have to begin your campaign well before the wedding.” He cast his friend a knowing
look. “Which is why you’ve come so early.”

Sam grinned. “I was hoping you’d introduce me to some of the more influential among
your lords.”

“I would but I’ve been away too long and am sadly out of touch. Fortunately, Camille
and her sisters probably know everyone there is to know, many of whom will be in attendance
at the various social activities she has planned between now and the wedding. Dinner
parties, picnics, and the like.” A thoughtful note sounded in Gray’s voice. “There
will be any number of opportunities to demonstrate the motorwagon and I wouldn’t be
at all surprised if we didn’t get a great deal of interest. More than enough to set
up production with a reasonable expectation of success.”

“We?”

“I assumed you would be asking me to join you in this venture.”

“I didn’t know I had to ask.”

Gray laughed.

Sam considered his friend. “I don’t have to tell you how speculative this is. These
motorwagons or automobiles might turn out to be nothing more than toys. There’s a
very great risk that we will lose whatever we invest in this endeavor.”

“Risk has always been part of the game.”

“And much of the fun. If nothing else, I think this will be fun. After all, we’ve
both made significant fortunes. What good are they if we can’t have a little fun?”
Sam studied the other man. “So I can count you in?”

“Try to keep me out.”

“Good.” Sam nodded with satisfaction.

Sam hadn’t doubted for a moment that Gray would want to be part of this venture. And
risk was just part of the appeal. Neither man had gotten where he was by playing the
safest card in the hand. Admittedly this was much more speculative than trains or
steel or shipping had been. This was something completely new. And it would be a fun
ride.

“But enough talk about business. Tell me more about Camille and her sisters.” Especially,
Lady
Hargate.

“And spoil the surprise? Best for you to draw your own conclusions. Besides, we’re
here now.” Gray swept out his hand in a grand gesture. “Welcome to Millworth Manor.”

Sam had been too busy laying out his plans for motorwagons to notice their approach.
Now, he paused and considered the building looming before them.

Millworth was a grand enough house, built of stone in shades of muted gray. It wasn’t
of any one discernable style but rather looked as if it had grown through the years,
evolved and changed with the whims of the owners. Even so, it was the epitome of what
an English country manor should look like. Or it was to someone who had never seen
one before.

So this was
Lady
Hargate’s family home. Interesting and not what he’d expected. She’d given him the
distinct impression that she was a relative of far less means than Lady Lydingham.
A poor relation although admittedly she had never said that outright, crafty creature
that she obviously was. Still, she hadn’t struck him as such. No, she’d struck him
as honest and forthright. Even so, he was much better at judging the character of
men than women, which had proven his undoing in the past.

Now that he thought about it, she’d said very little about herself although she was
obviously educated and well versed in art and literature and even politics. She’d
had the subtle sort of flirtatious manner he’d always found intriguing. That, coupled
with the fact that she had assumed he was an employee of one of Gray’s business associates
when Sam had stopped by Gray’s suite to drop off some papers, and had no idea of his
wealth or position, had made her all the more interesting. He was damned tired of
women who saw only his wealth and position.

Why she hadn’t been honest with him about who she really was remained an unanswered
question. And then there was that business about having an adventure. He smiled at
the memory.

Gray’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Like what?” Sam adopted an innocent air. “I’m simply glad to see my old friend again.”

“Yes, I thought that was it.” Gray started up the stairs to the house.

Sam followed his friend. Still, he hadn’t been honest about who he was with her either.
If you looked at it from the right angle, with one eye closed perhaps, one half-truth
cancelled out the other. She had said she was a practical woman and that was a very
practical way to view their previous encounter. Her
adventure
. Even so, it had been his experience that women who claimed to be practical very
often weren’t.

He’d find out soon enough he supposed. And find out, as well, which one she thought
was truly unforgettable.

The adventure or the man.

“. . . and Grayson has gone off to fetch one of his American friends from the train.”
Camille sank down into the wrought-iron garden chair beside her sister’s on the terrace
overlooking the grounds and gardens of Millworth. A table had been set with tea out-of-doors
to allow the ladies to enjoy the still delightful, late afternoon autumn day.

“Although Keech was perfectly capable of doing so without him.” Camille drummed her
fingers on the table. “Honestly, I think all those years spent in America have changed
Grayson in ways that I don’t understand.”

“Good ways or bad ways?” Delilah poured a cup of tea and handed it to her sister.

“That is yet to be decided.” Camille heaved a resigned sigh. “This American has come
entirely too early. Why, the wedding is nearly three weeks away. But Grayson did mention
the man might go into London on occasion. And, as I suspect Grayson could use some
male companionship, it’s probably for the best. It will keep him occupied and out
of the way.”

“Always a good idea,” Teddy said absently, her gaze locked on the notebook in front
of her on the table. She jotted a quick note then looked up. “Who is he?”

“Oh, I forget which one he is.” Camille waved off the question. “Grayson has invited
any number of American friends and quite a few have written that they plan to attend.”

“But you can’t remember any of their names,” Delilah said in a casual manner as if
she could not care less which of Grayson’s American friends planned to attend the
wedding. Not that she thought Mr. Russell would suddenly appear at Millworth Manor.
No, his employer, a Mr. Moore she thought, might well travel to England for Camille
and Grayson’s nuptials but she doubted he would bring an employee along with him.
It would be most inappropriate. Although one never knew what an American might do.
Inappropriate was probably to be expected.

“It’s right on the tip of my tongue.” Camille’s brows drew together. “I met several
of Grayson’s business associates when we were in New York and I’m fairly certain our
new arrival was one of them. In fact, I think he and Grayson are very good friends
as well as partners in any number of successful ventures. Which makes this even more
annoying. What was his name?” She thought for a moment. “It scarcely matters now,
I suppose. The man will be here at any minute.”

“Which reminds me”—Teddy set down her pen and settled back in her chair—“we should
go over the most recent responses to your invitations. I would hate to lose sight
of how many people are actually coming to the wedding.”

“I daresay there won’t be many refusals.” Camille smiled in a smug manner. “My wedding
will be a social event to be remembered.”

“As was the first,” Delilah pointed out. Their mother would have had it no other way.

Camille laughed. “It was, wasn’t it? Of course this time it’s different.”

“This time it’s Grayson.” Delilah smiled at her sister.

Camille’s first husband, Harold, was considerably older and exactly the kind of man
all three sisters were expected to marry: wealthy, with a respectable title and impeccable
family connections. Camille was the first to admit she had indeed loved her husband
and they had had a fine marriage. But if pressed, Camille would also confess that
he was not the true love of her life. Which made her wedding at long last to Grayson
Elliott even more special.

“That does make all the difference.” A thoughtful smile curved Camille’s lips. “You
know, I never thought this would happen to me, to us rather. I really never thought
I’d see him again after he left England. Never imagined we’d have a second chance
at a life together.”

“One does tend to give up hope after more than a decade passes.” Delilah refilled
her teacup.

“Grayson was gone for eleven years, wasn’t he?” Teddy asked.

“Building a fortune in America,” Delilah said. “Time well spent I would say.”

“He shouldn’t have been gone at all but I suppose, in many ways, that’s as much my
fault as it was his. Still, I would much rather he be rich than poor. I have my own
fortune, of course, but I do think society tends to look askance when it’s the woman
who has the fortune as if it’s somehow demeaning for the man in question. No one ever
seems to mind when it’s the man who has all the money.”

“Although, no one queues up to marry a poor girl,” Teddy pointed out.

“It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Camille shook her head. “A woman who marries for
position and fortune, especially if she has no position or fortune herself, is often
looked upon as a fortune hunter although it’s the only way, even in this day and age,
that a woman has to better herself. A man who marries for money is simply considered
clever. And it does seem to me that a man dependent on his wife’s money is more likely
to stray.” Camille shrugged. “Still, it is delightful that money is not a concern.
We can put the past in the past where it belongs. I much prefer to look toward the
future.”

“I have no doubt you’ll be blissful together.” Teddy smiled then turned to her friend.
“And what of you, Dee? Have you considered your future?”

Camille chuckled. “With her two older daughters now settled and happy with their second
husbands, I daresay Mother has certainly considered the question of Delilah’s future.
I know a good portion of those invited to the wedding at Mother’s urging are unattached
gentlemen in need of a wife. I suspect she thinks it will be fertile hunting ground
for you.”

“I allowed Mother to direct my life the first time I married. I do not intend to allow
her to do so the next time. However, I don’t mind her assistance as I do intend to
marry again. She is very good at this sort of thing. And as she, and you of course,
have been so thoughtful as to gather potential husbands here for your wedding and
my perusal, I further intend to begin my search in earnest among them.” She turned
toward her friend. “A bigger question than that of my intentions, Teddy, is what do
you want?”

“I have always loved the way you manage to turn attention away from yourself when
there is a question you don’t wish to answer.” A wry smile curved the corners of Teddy’s
lips.

“Not at all.” Even to her own ears her objection did not ring true. “I simply can’t
imagine you wish to plan other people’s social events for the rest of your life. I
have no idea what your plans are. You’ve been so busy this past year organizing weddings
and parties that I’ve scarcely seen you at all.”

“Then you should have more parties.” Teddy grinned.

“I shall certainly keep that in mind,” Delilah said in a prim manner then returned
her friend’s smile.

She and Teddy had been as close as sisters since they had first met at Miss Bicklesham’s
Academy for Accomplished Young Ladies and had vowed to be good, true friends for the
rest of their lives. While officially the purpose of the relatively new but already
established academy was to prepare young women of the noble classes for the positions
in life they were intended for, Miss Bicklesham’s faculty had an unsuspected rebellious
streak. Delilah and Teddy had both left school with a solid grasp of not only how
to host a hundred people for dinner and manage a grand house but with a basic understanding
as well of Latin, mathematics, astronomy, philosophy, and economics. None of which
had come in particularly handy thus far in Delilah’s life although she did credit
her ability to handle any conversation with aplomb and confidence to Miss Bicklesham’s
unusual curriculum.

“Or a wedding,” Teddy added.

Delilah sipped her tea. “I shall keep that in mind as well.”

Teddy also knew most of Delilah’s secrets just as Delilah knew most of Teddy’s. Others
might suspect the truth of it but Delilah was certain she was the only one who actually
knew Lady Theodosia and her mother, the Countess of Sallwick, were not merely amusing
themselves with their wedding and party planning services but needed the income.

“I do intend to marry,” Teddy said. “I just find it remarkably difficult to find the
right man.”

“Yes, there is that,” Delilah said under her breath. A vision of Mr. Russell’s enticing
smile flashed through her mind. His face had an unnerving tendency to appear from
nowhere whenever the topic turned toward desirable men and marriage, especially now.

Delilah had tried to put him completely out of her mind and indeed there had been
days when she scarcely thought of him at all. Unfortunately, he was there very nearly
every time she closed her eyes. It was both annoying and pointless. She would never
see him again after all. But ever since her return to Millworth, recollections of
him had stubbornly taken up residence in the back of her mind. It was due no doubt
to the upcoming wedding and all those bloody Americans who would soon be invading.

It was certainly not because he was the right man. Far from it. Mr. Samuel Russell
was the complete opposite of the type of man she planned on for her second husband.
Aside from any number of other reasons, he was an American. That would never do. Besides
which he was an adventure. Adventures were meant to be brief, enjoyable, and finite.
And best kept to oneself. He was one secret she would never share even with her closest
friend.

“Well then.” A wicked gleam sparked in Camille’s eyes. “We should indeed go over the
guest list. We might be able to pick out your future husband as well as Delilah’s.”

Teddy laughed. “I would much rather pick him out in person than from a list, thank
you very much.”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you don’t already know every single person on that
list already.” Camille tapped Teddy’s notebook with a pointed finger.

“Nor would I.” Teddy wrinkled her nose. “Which is no doubt part of the problem. I
should like to meet someone new. Someone different.” She thought for a moment. “Someone
who, I don’t know, doesn’t know my family, my background. Someone I haven’t known,
who hasn’t known me, for much of my life. Which I think is one of the problems of
the society we live in. There’s never any new blood. It’s just the same people, the
same families, it’s just so . . . Well, I think
expected
is the right word. I would like something or rather someone
unexpected
.”

“An adventure,” Delilah said under her breath.

“Exactly.” Teddy beamed at her friend. “I want a man to be an adventure. To be unknown
and new and exciting.”

“And make your heart race,” Delilah said without thinking.

Camille and Teddy stared at her.

“Isn’t that what an adventure does?” Delilah said quickly. “Make your heart race?
Doesn’t Grayson make your heart race?”

“He always has.” Camille’s satisfied smile had returned. “Perhaps one of Grayson’s
American friends would suit for your adventure, Teddy. They’re not titled but I’m
fairly certain they all have tidy fortunes.”

“I’m not sure I wish to go all the way to America for a suitable match.” Teddy sipped
her tea thoughtfully. “Although that would certainly be unexpected and quite an adventure.”

“You have no idea,” Delilah said more to herself than the others. Especially if they
were deliciously handsome with hard bodies and laughing brown eyes.

Camille studied the wedding planner for a moment. “Aside from the unexpected, Teddy,
what do you want? What are you looking for in a prospective husband?”

“I don’t know really. I do know I want someone who isn’t looking for a debutante in
her first season. I have, after all, reached the overly-ripe age of twenty-six.” Teddy
cast the others a rueful smile.

“As have we both,” Delilah said mildly.

There was nothing she could do to alleviate Teddy’s concern about age, a concern Delilah
shared to a certain extent. But Teddy really had nothing to worry about. With her
tall stature, rich red hair, and air of competence and intelligence, she was at once
classic and unique. Delilah had long thought Teddy fit in far better in terms of appearance
with Camille and Beryl than Delilah did. The twins were tall and blond and annoyingly
perfect beauties. While the blue of Delilah’s eyes did match her sisters, she was
several inches shorter, her figure a bit fuller and her hair a definite, dark brown.
Regardless, her mirror said she was quite lovely even if she had always felt rather
plain when standing next to the goddess twins. As such, she could certainly understand
Teddy’s concern about a real or imagined flaw. “And I’m not the least bit worried.”

“You’re a widow. You’ve been married. If this was a game, you’ve already been chosen
once. You’re simply playing again. No one has ever chosen, or rather married, me.”
Teddy stirred sugar into her tea.

“That’s not entirely true, is it?” Delilah pointed out.

“That was a dreadful mistake.” Teddy’s tone hardened. “I wasted nearly a year in an
engagement to a man who was not at all right for me. I consider myself lucky that
I did not marry him.”

Camille’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

Teddy sipped her tea, her manner matter-of-fact. “He died.”

Camille winced. “Oh dear.”

“You needn’t look like that, Camille,” Delilah said. “It’s not as if she did away
with him.”

“Although I might have had to resort to that if we had actually married,” Teddy said
with a shrug and a sharp look at Delilah.

This was not something Teddy liked talking about and Delilah knew better than to bring
it up. “But you have had other offers since then. None of which you’ve accepted.”

“Fortunately I learn from my mistakes and I have very high standards.” Teddy adopted
a lofty tone. “And on the vine of matrimonial bliss, I have yet to be . . .” She rested
the back of her hand against her forehead in a theatrical manner and heaved a dramatic
sigh. “Plucked.”

Delilah tried not to choke. That was one secret of Teddy’s she’d take to her grave.

Camille laughed. “I wouldn’t let my mother hear you say that. She claims she is not
the type of mother to interfere in her children’s lives but we know better. She simply
can’t resist meddling.” Camille traded a long-suffering look with her sister. “Even
though you’re not her daughter, Teddy, she would take your comment as a challenge.
She’d have you wed in no time regardless of your standards. But you have evaded my
question. Unexpected is not a good answer.”