To Make a Match (A Scandal in London Novel) Page 15

  “You think I don’t know what people think of me? I’ve heard the names, Victoria. Amelia of the Absent Heart. Madam Glacier. The Blade. But to have you, my own flesh and blood, add Dupe to that list is—”

  “You must admit that your own behavior has contributed to this,” Victoria snapped. “You set out to steal my suitor, the same as you always have, only this time it went awry. You cannot blame me for wanting—”

  “I was trying to protect you!”

  “From what? Finding love? Happiness? A life of my own?”

  Her sister’s face became ashen. “You don’t know anything, Victoria. You cannot possibly begin to—” She stopped, her expression becoming inscrutable. “The matter is moot. What’s done is done, and there is nothing I can say or do that will change it. You will marry Cavendish and find out for yourself what sort of man would deceive a woman in order to achieve his ends.”

  “Augh!” Victoria railed. “You are so bloody stubborn! Yes. The matter of Cavendish and me is indeed moot, but the matter of you and Withington is not. Yes, at first he thought of you as the enemy—and you were. But his opinion of you changed as he came to know you. He didn’t expect to like you, much less love you, by the time all was said and done, and now he regrets having deceived you. Immensely.”

  “Too little, too late,” her sister said through her tears. “I will not marry a man who has deceived me.” She lay back down and rolled over to face the back of the couch, ending the conversation.

  Victoria stood for a moment staring at her. “I’m sorry, Amelia. There was no other way.”

  “Get out.”

  “All will be well,” Julius reassured Victoria as he knocked on her father’s estate office door.

  “Enter,” came the reply from within. “My God, where have you been?” he said, rising as they entered. “I was only just informed that you did not return with the others. I was preparing to send out a search party. Was there some sort of accident? Are you injured?” he asked, coming forward.

  “We are well, Your Grace. However, I must speak with you regarding a matter of some delicacy.”

  Richmond looked from him to Victoria and back again, confused.

  “As a matter of honor, I ask you for Victoria’s hand in marriage,” said Julius, taking her hand in his own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  Her father’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned. He sat abruptly and stared at his daughter. “Upon my soul, I would never have dreamed you would do such a thing. Your own sister…”

  “Papa, I can explain—”

  “Don’t dare to speak to me!” he barked. “I’m not the blind old fool you must think me, daughter. You think I have not witnessed the rivalry between you?”

  “Rivalry?” she gasped. “Papa, she has run off every single gentleman that has ever—”

  “You little idiot! She was protecting you!” He ran his hands over his face. “She’ll be pilloried when this gets out.”

  “Papa—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Just…go. I can’t bear to look at you, and I need my wits about me in order to think this through. There is much to be done to smooth things over, if indeed such a thing can even be accomplished. I shall make arrangements for a special license. You’ll be married at once. The least you can do is keep it quiet until after the wedding. Perhaps that’ll give me enough time to get her out of London and away someplace quiet before the uproar begins. Now get you gone. I expect to see you both downstairs forthwith, cleaned up and dressed appropriately,” he added, looking at their bedraggled appearance with disdain, “and you are to behave as though nothing has changed, is that clear?”

  Julius stepped forward. “Lord Richmond, please understand, we never meant to—”

  “I blame you just as much as I do that one,” said Richmond, pointing an accusing finger toward Victoria. “I guess I should be thankful that Amelia didn’t actually marry you.” His eyes widened. “The Marquess…damn me, I nearly forgot. How in heaven’s name am I to explain this to him?”

  “I shall tell him. He is my friend, after all,” Julius offered quietly.

  Richmond’s tired eyes snapped up to pierce him. “Friend?” He gestured at them with unconcealed disgust. “Some friend! You think I cannot see what is between you? That I do not know what you’ve done? Do you truly think me such a fool?”

  “He will understand,” Julius said calmly.

  “Understand?” scoffed Richmond. “He would have to be a bloody saint to forgive such an offense.” He stepped forward until their noses nearly met and bared his teeth. “I don’t care what you have to say or do, but you’d better make damned certain that man doesn’t make this farce public. Amelia deserves better than to be made a laughingstock.”

  “I can promise you that he will not tell anyone,” Julius told him.

  Richmond stared at him with cold eyes. “He’d better not. On the other hand, perhaps he’ll call you out and solve my problems for me.” He turned his back on them.

  Julius led Victoria out of the room and closed the door behind them. She immediately broke down in tears. “Shh, now,” he urged. “We have a great deal to accomplish and very little time.”

  She looked up at him through her tears. “Accomplish? I should think we’ve done enough. He’ll never speak to me again. Neither of them will.”

  “They will. But that is something we must worry about later. Right now I need to speak with your sister.”

  “She won’t listen.”

  “She will, because I can offer her a way out of this.”

  “How?”

  “In the beginning, she and I agreed that when she no longer had need of me, she would publicly put me aside. I shall encourage her to do so tonight.”

  “How is that to solve anything? The moment it is announced that you and I are married…”

  “Not if I play the scoundrel,” he said quietly. “I shall pretend to be angry when she breaks things off, and then I will proceed to take my ‘revenge’ on her by seducing and ruining you. It will have to be done carefully.”

  Her eyes widened. “What about Withington? He will look the fool.”

  “He agreed to play that part anyway, remember?”

  “Yes, but I feel badly about it, now.”

  “Don’t,” he said, laughing. “Every unwed female in London will seek to comfort him after his loss.”

  “But he loves her.”

  He looked into her sad eyes and felt his own heart wrench in sympathy. “I know. And she loves him not. It is unfortunate, and I wish it had worked out otherwise for him, but he will get over it in time. He knew the risk when he agreed to help us.”

  Wiping her tears away, she nodded. “I will take you to her.”

  HANNAH PUT THE final touches on Victoria’s hastily arranged hair. “I’m sorry it’s so simple, my lady. If I’d had more time…”

  “It will do just fine, thank you. Go to my sister’s room and find out if she has gone down yet.”

  The girl did as she was told and came back in a moment. “She has, my lady.”

  Good. At least they wouldn’t chance to meet on their way down. An argument between them at this point would be disastrous. She hadn’t thought Amelia would agree to Julius’s plan, but she’d been wrong. Apparently her sense of self-preservation was stronger than her desire to get even with her betrayers.

  She glanced at the clock. The dancing was set to commence at nine. She need only put in a brief appearance before claiming a headache and leaving to go to her room. As soon as Amelia gave him the cut, Julius would follow and join her. In the morning, Hannah would come into her room and find him there in her bed. And that would be that.

  Rising, she smoothed down her skirts. It was time.

  She drifted through the ballroom, looking for Julius. Where was he? Dread threatened to rise from her heart and choke her as she saw Withington approach her sister. No! He would ruin everything.

  Her sister’s face was stiff and expressionless as she curtseyed.
She was going to dance with him? She watched as they joined with the other couples in the waltz.

  “What the devil is he doing?” asked Julius from beside her.

  “I don’t know. Did you not tell him our plan?”

  “I did,” he answered. “And he agreed to it.”

  She held her breath as her sister and Withington stopped dancing and stood in the center of the room, talking rapidly, arguing. Her sister’s hands were clenched at her sides. Their voices could be heard over the music. “She’s going to hit him! What should we do?”

  “Nothing,” he answered. “It is out of our hands now.”

  All around the couple, the floor began to clear, the faces of those nearby displaying open delight. The music slowly ground to a dissonant halt.

  “Amelia, I beg you!” pleaded Withington loudly, breaking the silence that had fallen in the room. She turned away, but he grabbed her hand and held it fast. “I find myself in a place of utter shame at my heart’s betrayal, but I can no longer deny the truth. My love for you has grown such that I cannot!”

  These words rang off the walls of the room, echoed by murmurs of shock.

  “What of her sister?” called a merry voice from amid the crowd, followed by another wave of murmurs.

  Withington turned and addressed them, still holding Amelia’s hand. “Though we have become friends, I have not the heart to marry Lady Victoria when I feel so passionately for another. I shall instead be happy to call her sister.” He turned to Amelia again and dropped to his knees before her. “If you’ll have me, that is. Marry me, Amelia. I cannot live without you.”

  Even from her vantage point, Victoria could see the tears running down his face. She watched as her sister stood there for a long moment, staring down at him with wide eyes, the rising and falling of her chest rapid and shallow.

  Please, please, please…

  A collective gasp rose from the crowd as Amelia swayed on her feet and slumped. Withington caught her, and the crowd applauded, swept away by the performance as he carried her off the ballroom floor.

  “What devilry is this?” she heard her father say from behind her as the crowd parted before Withington like the Red Sea before Moses. “I demand to know what just happened!”

  “I think, Your Grace, that the Marquess has decided to take matters into his own hands,” said Julius. He looked down at her and winked. “See you in a bit,” he whispered.

  Feigning shock—which wasn’t all that difficult, given the circumstances—Victoria fled the ballroom to wait for him.

  Two days later, Victoria scanned the morning papers. All of London was abuzz. Never had there been a more confusing and delicious tangle of gossip.

  The plan, for all that it had been nearly uprooted by Withy’s intervention, had worked beautifully. Amelia had come around while still in Withington’s arms, and he’d kissed her in full view of several witnesses. Victoria smiled at the account written in the Gazette. According to those witnesses, she’d kissed him back—most ardently.

  Her own part in the plan had worked perfectly, as well. The following morning, Julius had been discovered in her bed. Everyone assumed he’d been “comforting” her—and himself—after they’d both been thrown over. No one seemed to remember that they’d gone missing for half the day prior. If they did, they kept quiet about it.

  “I cannot imagine why you should be smiling,” said Papa. “Especially not after reading of our family’s shame in that rag.”

  “But there is no shame, Papa,” she said, unruffled by his tone. “All that remains is for Amelia to accept Withy’s proposal, and everything will be fine.”

  “I will not force her to it.”

  “You saw them kiss.”

  He squirmed. “That is beside the point. She had only just awakened from a faint. It means nothing.”

  “He loves her.”

  This time, there was no reply. She knew Withington had come to him with the truth. She’d heard him beg leave to marry Amelia. He’d given permission with great reluctance, pending her agreement. But despite their now-famous embrace, her sister had adamantly refused.

  “You know what will happen if she does not marry him.”

  “Yes. And so does she,” he said gruffly. “It is her choice. I tried once before to force her hand, to my eternal regret. I will not do it again.”

  Victoria was mystified by his answer. What was he talking about? Her sister swept in at that moment, precluding any further conversation. Victoria slid the papers over to her as she sat down. “Everyone is wondering when the announcement will be made.”

  Amelia’s eyes shot daggers at her as she pushed the papers away. “There won’t be any announcement, not with my name attached to it, anyway.”

  “Amelia—”

  “I believe I shall have breakfast upstairs in my room,” said Amelia, rising.

  “You know you’re wrong to refuse him!” Victoria called after her, rising as well. With dogged determination, she followed her sister, ignoring their father’s protest. “Amelia, he loves you! Give him a chance to prove himself to you!”

  “He had his chance. He could have refused to aid you in your deception of me. Had he done so—”

  “You would never have even seen him, much less considered him for a husband!” shouted Victoria. “Had he come to you honestly in the beginning, you would have trampled him beneath your cold, hard heels the same as all of the others. I’ve seen you do it countless times. You’ve broken more hearts—”

  “You still don’t see, do you?” her sister interrupted. “False, all of them! Every last one had something to hide. I discovered their dirty secrets, routed them out and exposed them to the light. How could I accept such men when they were full of lies? When they were not at all who they claimed to be? And Withington is the worst of them all. I would not marry him now if he was the king of England!” She turned and stomped her way up the stairs.

  “You should have left it alone, Victoria,” said her father from behind her. “She has her reasons for being this way. Let it be.”

  She turned. “But Papa, he loves her. I know he loves her.”

  “It matters not,” he said, shaking his head. His voice was surprisingly gentle, given his anger toward her. “Amelia has made her choice, and we must respect it.”

  Wedding preparations progressed at a steady—and very quick—march. The entire house was in a state of uproar with Victoria at the center of the storm.

  Countless things had to be ticked off a lengthy preparations list.

  Her trousseau had to be finished and all of her things transported to her new home at Holker Hall, an estate recently bequeathed to Julius by his good cousin, Sir Lowther.

  There was a banquet to prepare for. Food and decorations to be ordered and invitations sent. The guest list, while restricted to family and only those friends deemed unwise to exclude, was still quite substantial.

  Their parents’ ranks demanded that the ceremony be performed at St. Paul’s. Necessity demanded that it be done within one month of the “incident.” A lavish gift to another couple had secured the date, and a large charitable contribution to the diocese from both families, ensured that Lord Cavendish would marry Lady Victoria at eight o’ clock that morning with all the proper pomp and circumstance.

  A week before the wedding, Withy came to call.

  Victoria greeted him with no small amount of surprise—and concern. “What are you doing? You know she won’t see you…”

  “I know,” he said sadly. “But I thought I would at least try. She hasn’t sent an official refusal yet, and I’d hoped that—”

  She shook her head. “It’s no good. Papa is right, she won’t give over. She’s only waiting until after the wedding to publicly break it off.”

  He sat. The look on his face was so forlorn that she could hardly bear it. “I’m so sorry. I feel like this is all my fault.”

  “No. You warned me. I thought I could somehow convince her. That I could prove my love for her and she
’d…”

  His voice died, and she turned away to give him a moment.

  “It’s all right,” he said softly after a moment.

  “It’s not,” she said with heat. “She’s being completely pigheaded about it all.”

  “She has a right.”

  “You sound just like her,” she replied wryly. “If ever there were two people who should be married…” She left off, afraid to say anything more.

  Tea arrived. Having nothing better to do, she leaned across to pour. As she did, the lace at her elbow snagged on the corner of the tray, causing her to upset it and nearly drop the teapot. She managed to save the delicate china from disaster; however, the lid came off, sending the hot contents of the pot directly into Withington’s lap.

  “Bloody bollocks!” he howled raggedly, leaping up and clutching at the front of his breeches to hold the steaming cloth away from his more sensitive parts.

  Blushing furiously, she closed her eyes and shoved a tea towel at his hands—and accidentally hit him in the tenders.

  Grunting in agony, he doubled over, sending her sprawling. The teapot slipped from her hands and hit the parquet floor, sending tea and shrapnel in all directions.

  “Sweet Lord above, woman, are you trying to kill me?” he gasped, steadying himself against her. “God, what a bloody mess we’ve made of it.”

  Victoria kept her eyes to the floor, gathering the shards of the smashed teapot as he gingerly dried himself. Though horrified, she couldn’t help laughing. She looked down and gasped on seeing crimson spatters all over the front of her dress. Holding up her hand, she saw that she’d sliced it open. She hadn’t even felt it.

  “It’s quite all right,” he said, mistaking her reaction. “No real harm done. I’ve survived worse.”

  Victoria looked up, her lips twitching in spite of her throbbing hand. “I swear it wasn’t on purpose,” she said, stifling another laugh as he frowned. “You should have seen yourself, hopping about all over. Really, I’m so very terribly sorry. I know it must have been painful.”