The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride
Book 3:
Millworth Manor
Available in:
- eBook
- Audiobook
- Book info
- Sample
- Media
- Author updates
- Lists
Synopsis
#1 New York Times–bestselling author: "Nobody does Victorian romance hijinks like Alexander . . . Fabulously snappy banter, and a soupçon of sex." —Publishers Weekly
Delilah, the very proper widowed Lady Hargate, and Mr. Samuel Russell, previously acquainted during one unforgettable night in New York City when caution—and clothing—were thrown to the wind, will choose to pretend they have never met before when they wind up at the same wedding months later in England.
The lady plans to avoid love and its complications at all costs. The gentleman intends to change her mind.
Guests are invited to enjoy the many diversions of Millworth Manor as Delilah's sister and Samuel's friend are joined in matrimony—delightful grounds, lavish drawing rooms, secluded corners—and for Delilah and Samuel, the chance to discover that one night may have been only the beginning . . .
Contains mature themes.
Release date: April 29, 2014
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 400
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
Reader buzz
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
Author updates
Close
The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride
Victoria Alexander
Millworth Manor, October 1887
“You didn’t need to come fetch me in person.” Samuel Russell smiled at his old friend. “I did manage to get from one place to another in France and Germany, you know, and I’d bet I could have found my way from the train station to Fairborough Hall. It’s not as if you people don’t speak English.”
“Yes, but you don’t.” Grayson Elliott grinned. The differences between the American and British forms of the same language had long been a running joke between the two men.
“I say, old chap, do be so good as to shut your mouth,” Sam said in his best imitation of Gray’s accent.
Gray winced. “You have just made my point. And whatever you do, don’t attempt that again.”
Sam laughed. He’d met the Englishman nine or so years ago and the two had built their respective fortunes in tandem. Sam grew his not inconsequential empire from a small company founded by his grandfather. Gray’s success had begun with a loan from his family. They’d first met as competitors but soon discovered they shared a common work ethic, a similar way of looking at life and the possibilities the world presented for enterprising young men. Throughout it all, they’d formed a solid friendship. Now that Gray had returned to England after more than a decade spent in America, Sam missed the man who had been, at various times, confidant, cohort, partner, and friend.
“I must say I was surprised when I received your telegram.” Gray slanted a casual look at the American.
Sam gasped in feigned dismay. “Surely you didn’t think I would miss the wedding of one of my oldest friends as well as a valued business associate?”
“When I was in New York you said you wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding.”
“When you were in New York, I didn’t think I would. But then I had no idea I would find myself in Europe. As I did, it seemed a shame to miss your wedding. And, every few years, it’s wise to reacquaint myself with my London solicitors, as they oversee my international holdings.”
“The firm I recommended.”
“For which I will be forever in your debt. Besides, while I have been to England before, I have never had the time, or the inclination, to see anything beyond London. You have talked so much through the years about the idyllic world of Fairborough Hall and the English countryside, the opportunity to see it for myself just seemed too good to pass up.” He glanced at the scenery passing by them in the open carriage. “I could use a few relaxing weeks in the country.”
“A holiday?” Gray’s brow rose in a skeptical manner. “You? I can’t recall you ever taking a holiday.”
“Past time then, don’t you think?”
“I have thought exactly that for some time now.” Gray paused. “Perhaps if you didn’t devote every minute to work, we would be preparing for your wedding now.”
“I believe we prepared for my wedding last year,” Sam said mildly. There was a time when the mention of Sam’s debacle of an engagement would have been met with annoyance. Not with Gray of course; the Englishman had stood by him when he had needed a friend even if Gray had had his suspicions about Sam’s fiancée from the very beginning. Still, it was the mark of a good friend that Gray had not held over him the fact that he was right and Sam was so very wrong.
“She was never right for you.” Although Gray couldn’t resist mentioning it on occasion.
“And if I hadn’t listened to you . . .”
“You would now be married to the wrong woman.”
“Fortunately, I came to my senses and recognized the truth.”
They both knew there was far more to it than merely recognizing the truth but now was not the time to discuss it. Although he suspected, given Gray’s impending nuptials, the topic would raise its ugly head again in the days to come. “And now you have found the right woman.”
“Indeed I have.” Gray chuckled. “But as much as I am delighted to see you here, I doubt that it’s the wedding that has lured you here. Nor do I believe that rubbish about a holiday.”
“I am here to help celebrate your nuptials. There is nothing more to my presence here than that.”
“No doubt.” Suspicion sounded in Gray’s voice. The problem with old friends was that they knew you entirely too well.
“And I am eager to see your family’s home.”
“I shall delight in showing you around but I’m afraid you won’t be staying at Fairborough. It was severely damaged in a fire last winter.”
“Good Lord.” Sam stared at his friend. “How bad was it?”
“Very, but fortunately the repairs are nearly finished. While my family is residing there once again it’s still not quite ready for guests. Those coming for the wedding will be staying at Millworth Manor, the country home of my fiancée’s family.”
“Ah yes, the lovely Lady Lydingham. How is she?”
“Busy bordering on frantic with a tiny touch of panic tossed in for good measure.” Gray chuckled. “There is far more involved in a wedding of this sort than I had imagined. Camille wants everything to be perfect and even though she has been through this kind of thing before and has experienced help, as well as one of her sisters, there’s a distinct touch of insanity about her.”
Sam bit back a laugh. “Oh?”
“You know how women are. You have sisters.”
“Yes, but my oldest sister’s wedding was not as grand as I suspect yours will be and none of my other sisters are old enough to be planning a wedding. But I can imagine the chaos.” Sam paused. “I know the wedding is still a few weeks away. I hope my early arrival isn’t a problem. I have already spent several days in London. Since it’s only an hour by train, I do plan on going into the city to take care of a few remaining matters while I’m here but I could certainly stay in London until—”
“Don’t be absurd.” Gray scoffed. “I’m delighted to have you here. Millworth Manor is more than large enough to house any number of guests. And I don’t mind saying I do welcome another male presence in the house. Camille’s parents have been traveling and we’re not sure when they might arrive. And who knows where her uncle is but we hope he appears before the wedding. Although Uncle Basil is notoriously undependable.”
Sam nodded. “We all have one or two relatives like that.”
“Camille’s twin sister’s husband is a political sort and probably won’t arrive until a day or two before the wedding although Beryl is expected any day now.” He grimaced. “I can definitely use another man around once Beryl arrives. For protection if for no other reason. Beryl’s not especially fond of me.”
“Her twin sister?” Sam raised a brow. “That must make things interesting.”
Gray chuckled. “You have no idea.”
“And Mrs. Hargate?” Sam adopted a casual note. In spite of the fact that she had been adamant, almost rude really, about never wanting to see him again, he was looking forward to seeing her. It had been nearly four months since their tryst in New York. There was a chance she had changed her mind about renewing their acquaintance. A chance he had lingered just as much in her mind as she had in his. The woman did seem to be there every time he closed his eyes.
Gray’s brows drew together in confusion. “Who?”
“The lady who accompanied you and your fiancée to New York? Your chaperone? I thought she was a relative of Lady Lydingham’s.”
“Oh, of course.” Gray’s expression cleared. “Delilah. Lady Hargate.”
“Lady Hargate?” And wasn’t that interesting.
“She’s Camille’s younger sister.”
“Is she? I was under the impression she was a more distant relative.”
“They haven’t been close in the past, although Camille is trying to rectify that. That was one of the reasons why she asked Delilah to accompany us and probably why Delilah agreed to come. She’d a have a fit if you addressed her as Mrs. Hargate by the way. She’s very, oh, proper about that sort of thing.” He cast Sam a curious look. “I wasn’t aware you had met her.”
“Only in passing,” Sam said in an offhand manner. Only as her damned adventure. “I doubt that she even remembers my name.” It was obvious now that while the woman hadn’t actually lied to him, she had led him to believe she was someone she wasn’t. Mrs. Hargate—ha!
“She arrived at the manor a few weeks ago along with Teddy, Lady Theodosia Winslow. Teddy’s in charge of the wedding preparations. Her late father was an earl. She and her mother are among the most prestigious planners of weddings and social events in England. Camille says they’re in high demand and agree to only the most important events. Fortunately, she is also Delilah’s closest friend. Unfortunately, their services cost a small fortune,” he said wryly. “Delilah claims they have to charge exorbitant fees because nothing free is truly valued.”
Sam nodded. “She’s right there.”
“Aside from the soundness of their business practices . . .” Gray lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “I suspect the late earl might have squandered the family fortune but if so, it’s not common knowledge.”
“And yet you have your suspicions.”
“I suppose my years away have changed the way I look at things. Anyone here who might have the same suspicions would never voice them aloud, at least not in public. It simply isn’t done.” He paused for a long moment. “Speaking of suspicions, why are you really here?”
“You wound me deeply, Gray.” Sam adopted an indignant tone. “I’m here for your wedding of course. And to spend some time with an old friend. And reacquaint myself with the London firm that oversees my international holdings. If, in the course of that, conversation turns to some sort of, oh, I don’t know, some sort of investment or opportunity or—”
“Aha!” Gray laughed. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”
“Not at all. I simply . . .” Sam grinned. “I don’t think it’s right to keep this to myself.”
“Keep what to yourself ?”
“Why, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let you in on this?”
“In on what?”
“I know how you love anything that smacks of progress and the future.”
“Progress?” Gray’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “And the future, you say?”
“I should warn you, it’s highly speculative.”
“Is it?” A familiar glint sparked in Gray’s eyes. “Then I suspect as well it’s extremely interesting.”
“Indeed it is.” Sam leaned closer to his old friend. “What would you say to the idea of horseless carriages?”
“Horseless carriages?” Gray groaned. “Are you insane?”
“Shhh.” Sam glanced at the carriage driver. “This is best discussed in private.”
“Keech can be trusted. And I have no doubts as to his sanity.”
“Even so.”
“Still, I’d hate for him to think I was mad.” Gray heaved a resigned sigh. “And I suspect this is one of the maddest ideas you’ve ever had.”
“Or one of the most brilliant.” Sam flashed another grin.
Gray studied him closely, then nodded. “Very well, then.” He turned and called to the driver. “Keech, we’ll get out here. Mr. Russell would prefer to walk the rest of the way and I wouldn’t mind a bit of exercise myself. Who knows how long this grand autumn weather will last. Besides we are nearly to Millworth’s drive now.”
“Very well, sir.” Keech reined the horses to a stop.
Sam and Gray got out of the carriage. Gray nodded at the driver. “Please take Mr. Russell’s bags to the house. We’ll be there shortly.”
“As you wish, Mr. Elliott.” The driver tapped the rim of his hat and the carriage started off.
Gray waited until the vehicle was out of range. “Well, go on then. What is this nonsense about?”
“It’s not nonsense and it might well be the way of the future.”
“As might flying machines, but we’ve yet to see one that has managed to get an inch off the ground.”
Sam cast his friend a smug smile. “I have.”
Gray’s brows shot upward. “You’ve seen a working flying machine?”
“Don’t be silly. That would be absurd. I doubt man was meant to fly, although I’d never bet on that. After all, the world is changing every day.” His grin widened. “But I have seen a horseless carriage.”
“I too have seen a horseless carriage.” Gray nodded and started off down the road, Sam by his side. “Rather useless things at the moment I’d say.”
“Exactly.”
Gray stopped and stared at Sam. “What do you mean exactly?”
“I mean that at the moment they are rather useless.” Sam nonchalantly started walking again. “But only at the moment.”
“I have always relished the way you enjoy being circumspect. What are you trying to say?”
“What is the biggest problem with horseless carriages?”
“I don’t know. I really haven’t been especially interested up to now.” Gray thought for a moment. “An efficient, compact motor I suppose. Of course, there have been developments in recent years. Internal combustion and—”
Sam laughed. “I thought you said you weren’t interested?”
“I’m not,” Gray said staunchly then shrugged. “Although admittedly it is an intriguing proposition.”
“I have an even better one. I have just come from meeting a German, a Mr. Benz, who has not only patented an internal combustion engine but has designed and constructed the vehicle to go along with it.”
“As have others.”
“Yes, but there’s something about Benz I like. And he hasn’t just slapped a motor on a carriage. He’s designed a complete vehicle. Three wheels, tubular steel frame, differential gears, etcetera. Admittedly, the steering mechanisms still need work.”
“And you want to invest in this horseless carriage?”
“Motorwagon,” Sam said firmly. “He calls it a motorwagon.”
“I believe the French are using the word automobile.”
“Yes, I have heard that. Automobile.” Sam considered the word. “I like it. It has a nice ring to it. Could be shorter, though. Something with a bit more snap to it—”
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 sha. . .
“You didn’t need to come fetch me in person.” Samuel Russell smiled at his old friend. “I did manage to get from one place to another in France and Germany, you know, and I’d bet I could have found my way from the train station to Fairborough Hall. It’s not as if you people don’t speak English.”
“Yes, but you don’t.” Grayson Elliott grinned. The differences between the American and British forms of the same language had long been a running joke between the two men.
“I say, old chap, do be so good as to shut your mouth,” Sam said in his best imitation of Gray’s accent.
Gray winced. “You have just made my point. And whatever you do, don’t attempt that again.”
Sam laughed. He’d met the Englishman nine or so years ago and the two had built their respective fortunes in tandem. Sam grew his not inconsequential empire from a small company founded by his grandfather. Gray’s success had begun with a loan from his family. They’d first met as competitors but soon discovered they shared a common work ethic, a similar way of looking at life and the possibilities the world presented for enterprising young men. Throughout it all, they’d formed a solid friendship. Now that Gray had returned to England after more than a decade spent in America, Sam missed the man who had been, at various times, confidant, cohort, partner, and friend.
“I must say I was surprised when I received your telegram.” Gray slanted a casual look at the American.
Sam gasped in feigned dismay. “Surely you didn’t think I would miss the wedding of one of my oldest friends as well as a valued business associate?”
“When I was in New York you said you wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding.”
“When you were in New York, I didn’t think I would. But then I had no idea I would find myself in Europe. As I did, it seemed a shame to miss your wedding. And, every few years, it’s wise to reacquaint myself with my London solicitors, as they oversee my international holdings.”
“The firm I recommended.”
“For which I will be forever in your debt. Besides, while I have been to England before, I have never had the time, or the inclination, to see anything beyond London. You have talked so much through the years about the idyllic world of Fairborough Hall and the English countryside, the opportunity to see it for myself just seemed too good to pass up.” He glanced at the scenery passing by them in the open carriage. “I could use a few relaxing weeks in the country.”
“A holiday?” Gray’s brow rose in a skeptical manner. “You? I can’t recall you ever taking a holiday.”
“Past time then, don’t you think?”
“I have thought exactly that for some time now.” Gray paused. “Perhaps if you didn’t devote every minute to work, we would be preparing for your wedding now.”
“I believe we prepared for my wedding last year,” Sam said mildly. There was a time when the mention of Sam’s debacle of an engagement would have been met with annoyance. Not with Gray of course; the Englishman had stood by him when he had needed a friend even if Gray had had his suspicions about Sam’s fiancée from the very beginning. Still, it was the mark of a good friend that Gray had not held over him the fact that he was right and Sam was so very wrong.
“She was never right for you.” Although Gray couldn’t resist mentioning it on occasion.
“And if I hadn’t listened to you . . .”
“You would now be married to the wrong woman.”
“Fortunately, I came to my senses and recognized the truth.”
They both knew there was far more to it than merely recognizing the truth but now was not the time to discuss it. Although he suspected, given Gray’s impending nuptials, the topic would raise its ugly head again in the days to come. “And now you have found the right woman.”
“Indeed I have.” Gray chuckled. “But as much as I am delighted to see you here, I doubt that it’s the wedding that has lured you here. Nor do I believe that rubbish about a holiday.”
“I am here to help celebrate your nuptials. There is nothing more to my presence here than that.”
“No doubt.” Suspicion sounded in Gray’s voice. The problem with old friends was that they knew you entirely too well.
“And I am eager to see your family’s home.”
“I shall delight in showing you around but I’m afraid you won’t be staying at Fairborough. It was severely damaged in a fire last winter.”
“Good Lord.” Sam stared at his friend. “How bad was it?”
“Very, but fortunately the repairs are nearly finished. While my family is residing there once again it’s still not quite ready for guests. Those coming for the wedding will be staying at Millworth Manor, the country home of my fiancée’s family.”
“Ah yes, the lovely Lady Lydingham. How is she?”
“Busy bordering on frantic with a tiny touch of panic tossed in for good measure.” Gray chuckled. “There is far more involved in a wedding of this sort than I had imagined. Camille wants everything to be perfect and even though she has been through this kind of thing before and has experienced help, as well as one of her sisters, there’s a distinct touch of insanity about her.”
Sam bit back a laugh. “Oh?”
“You know how women are. You have sisters.”
“Yes, but my oldest sister’s wedding was not as grand as I suspect yours will be and none of my other sisters are old enough to be planning a wedding. But I can imagine the chaos.” Sam paused. “I know the wedding is still a few weeks away. I hope my early arrival isn’t a problem. I have already spent several days in London. Since it’s only an hour by train, I do plan on going into the city to take care of a few remaining matters while I’m here but I could certainly stay in London until—”
“Don’t be absurd.” Gray scoffed. “I’m delighted to have you here. Millworth Manor is more than large enough to house any number of guests. And I don’t mind saying I do welcome another male presence in the house. Camille’s parents have been traveling and we’re not sure when they might arrive. And who knows where her uncle is but we hope he appears before the wedding. Although Uncle Basil is notoriously undependable.”
Sam nodded. “We all have one or two relatives like that.”
“Camille’s twin sister’s husband is a political sort and probably won’t arrive until a day or two before the wedding although Beryl is expected any day now.” He grimaced. “I can definitely use another man around once Beryl arrives. For protection if for no other reason. Beryl’s not especially fond of me.”
“Her twin sister?” Sam raised a brow. “That must make things interesting.”
Gray chuckled. “You have no idea.”
“And Mrs. Hargate?” Sam adopted a casual note. In spite of the fact that she had been adamant, almost rude really, about never wanting to see him again, he was looking forward to seeing her. It had been nearly four months since their tryst in New York. There was a chance she had changed her mind about renewing their acquaintance. A chance he had lingered just as much in her mind as she had in his. The woman did seem to be there every time he closed his eyes.
Gray’s brows drew together in confusion. “Who?”
“The lady who accompanied you and your fiancée to New York? Your chaperone? I thought she was a relative of Lady Lydingham’s.”
“Oh, of course.” Gray’s expression cleared. “Delilah. Lady Hargate.”
“Lady Hargate?” And wasn’t that interesting.
“She’s Camille’s younger sister.”
“Is she? I was under the impression she was a more distant relative.”
“They haven’t been close in the past, although Camille is trying to rectify that. That was one of the reasons why she asked Delilah to accompany us and probably why Delilah agreed to come. She’d a have a fit if you addressed her as Mrs. Hargate by the way. She’s very, oh, proper about that sort of thing.” He cast Sam a curious look. “I wasn’t aware you had met her.”
“Only in passing,” Sam said in an offhand manner. Only as her damned adventure. “I doubt that she even remembers my name.” It was obvious now that while the woman hadn’t actually lied to him, she had led him to believe she was someone she wasn’t. Mrs. Hargate—ha!
“She arrived at the manor a few weeks ago along with Teddy, Lady Theodosia Winslow. Teddy’s in charge of the wedding preparations. Her late father was an earl. She and her mother are among the most prestigious planners of weddings and social events in England. Camille says they’re in high demand and agree to only the most important events. Fortunately, she is also Delilah’s closest friend. Unfortunately, their services cost a small fortune,” he said wryly. “Delilah claims they have to charge exorbitant fees because nothing free is truly valued.”
Sam nodded. “She’s right there.”
“Aside from the soundness of their business practices . . .” Gray lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “I suspect the late earl might have squandered the family fortune but if so, it’s not common knowledge.”
“And yet you have your suspicions.”
“I suppose my years away have changed the way I look at things. Anyone here who might have the same suspicions would never voice them aloud, at least not in public. It simply isn’t done.” He paused for a long moment. “Speaking of suspicions, why are you really here?”
“You wound me deeply, Gray.” Sam adopted an indignant tone. “I’m here for your wedding of course. And to spend some time with an old friend. And reacquaint myself with the London firm that oversees my international holdings. If, in the course of that, conversation turns to some sort of, oh, I don’t know, some sort of investment or opportunity or—”
“Aha!” Gray laughed. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”
“Not at all. I simply . . .” Sam grinned. “I don’t think it’s right to keep this to myself.”
“Keep what to yourself ?”
“Why, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let you in on this?”
“In on what?”
“I know how you love anything that smacks of progress and the future.”
“Progress?” Gray’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “And the future, you say?”
“I should warn you, it’s highly speculative.”
“Is it?” A familiar glint sparked in Gray’s eyes. “Then I suspect as well it’s extremely interesting.”
“Indeed it is.” Sam leaned closer to his old friend. “What would you say to the idea of horseless carriages?”
“Horseless carriages?” Gray groaned. “Are you insane?”
“Shhh.” Sam glanced at the carriage driver. “This is best discussed in private.”
“Keech can be trusted. And I have no doubts as to his sanity.”
“Even so.”
“Still, I’d hate for him to think I was mad.” Gray heaved a resigned sigh. “And I suspect this is one of the maddest ideas you’ve ever had.”
“Or one of the most brilliant.” Sam flashed another grin.
Gray studied him closely, then nodded. “Very well, then.” He turned and called to the driver. “Keech, we’ll get out here. Mr. Russell would prefer to walk the rest of the way and I wouldn’t mind a bit of exercise myself. Who knows how long this grand autumn weather will last. Besides we are nearly to Millworth’s drive now.”
“Very well, sir.” Keech reined the horses to a stop.
Sam and Gray got out of the carriage. Gray nodded at the driver. “Please take Mr. Russell’s bags to the house. We’ll be there shortly.”
“As you wish, Mr. Elliott.” The driver tapped the rim of his hat and the carriage started off.
Gray waited until the vehicle was out of range. “Well, go on then. What is this nonsense about?”
“It’s not nonsense and it might well be the way of the future.”
“As might flying machines, but we’ve yet to see one that has managed to get an inch off the ground.”
Sam cast his friend a smug smile. “I have.”
Gray’s brows shot upward. “You’ve seen a working flying machine?”
“Don’t be silly. That would be absurd. I doubt man was meant to fly, although I’d never bet on that. After all, the world is changing every day.” His grin widened. “But I have seen a horseless carriage.”
“I too have seen a horseless carriage.” Gray nodded and started off down the road, Sam by his side. “Rather useless things at the moment I’d say.”
“Exactly.”
Gray stopped and stared at Sam. “What do you mean exactly?”
“I mean that at the moment they are rather useless.” Sam nonchalantly started walking again. “But only at the moment.”
“I have always relished the way you enjoy being circumspect. What are you trying to say?”
“What is the biggest problem with horseless carriages?”
“I don’t know. I really haven’t been especially interested up to now.” Gray thought for a moment. “An efficient, compact motor I suppose. Of course, there have been developments in recent years. Internal combustion and—”
Sam laughed. “I thought you said you weren’t interested?”
“I’m not,” Gray said staunchly then shrugged. “Although admittedly it is an intriguing proposition.”
“I have an even better one. I have just come from meeting a German, a Mr. Benz, who has not only patented an internal combustion engine but has designed and constructed the vehicle to go along with it.”
“As have others.”
“Yes, but there’s something about Benz I like. And he hasn’t just slapped a motor on a carriage. He’s designed a complete vehicle. Three wheels, tubular steel frame, differential gears, etcetera. Admittedly, the steering mechanisms still need work.”
“And you want to invest in this horseless carriage?”
“Motorwagon,” Sam said firmly. “He calls it a motorwagon.”
“I believe the French are using the word automobile.”
“Yes, I have heard that. Automobile.” Sam considered the word. “I like it. It has a nice ring to it. Could be shorter, though. Something with a bit more snap to it—”
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 sha. . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride
Victoria Alexander
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
