Page 1 of A Slight Problem with the Wedding (The Farthingale #11)

London, England

September 1825

Captain Octavian Thorne's head was pounding as he lay prone on the damp grass while trying to restore his senses after falling off the roof of Sir Henry Maxwell's townhouse in London's elegant Mayfair. It was dark, well after midnight on this rainy night, and he had taken the plunge while trying to stop Lady Sydney Harcourt from breaking into Sir Henry's bedchamber to steal her father's debt vouchers. Syd, who was fast becoming the bane of his existence, was now by his side, her bosom grazing his chest as she leaned over him to run her hands along his big, brutish body. "Leave me alone, Syd."

"Don't move, you big ox. I'm just making certain you haven't broken any bones. I did not mean to push you off the roof. I thought you were one of Sir Henry's men trying to stop me. You might have said something before I shoved you. What are you doing here?"

"Me? What in blazes are you doing here?"

"Trying to find my father's vowels and destroy them. Don't move yet," she said with urgency when he attempted to sit up. "Please, Octavian. You might have broken bones."

"And you might have been caught by Sir Henry," he grumbled back, angry enough to throttle her. "What do you think he would have done to you if he had found you skulking in his bedchamber?"

"Nothing I care to think about," she admitted, placing a soft hand upon his neck to run her fingers lightly across the nape before sliding her hands down his chest and leaving a fiery trail wherever she touched. "I saw him go out earlier. I knew he would not be home. Nor is he likely to return for at least another hour. He frequents those debauched gentlemen's clubs. Look at you, what a mess you are. You ought to know better than to climb onto those rain-slicked tiles."

"Stop lecturing me and stop touching me. I came here to rescue you. Sir Henry does not keep his business papers in his bedchamber, something I could have told you if you had bothered to ask me."

"He doesn't? How do you know this?"

"I have my sources," he shot back, his irritation growing along with his discomfort. He was wet, bruised, and still on fire because Syd's body was practically atop his and she would not take her hands off him.

"Is the Admiralty investigating him?"

"None of your business."

She said nothing more as she cupped one of his hands in hers and ordered him to wriggle his fingers. "Good, they're all moving." She then ordered him to do the same with the other.

"I haven't broken any bones." He had merely fallen off the low roof and landed in dense shrubbery before rolling onto the wet grass. It had been raining until a few minutes ago which was why both he and Syd were soaking wet. As for his injuries, they were minor. Only a small bump to his head acquired when his skull came in contact with a protruding tree branch.

"Octavian, do you think you can walk? Let me try to find us a hack and?C"

"No, my carriage is around the corner. You're coming with me to the Thorne residence. I dare not deliver you back home. If you are desperate enough to sneak into Sir Henry's home, this can only mean your father intends to do something foolish involving you." He inhaled sharply, feeling a twinge to his ribs that he ignored since any bruises incurred would fade within a day or two. "Syd, is he threatening to betroth you to Sir Henry? Why did you not come to me as soon as you learned of his plan?"

She gently brushed a stray lock of hair off his brow. "You are a good friend, Octavian. How can I toss you into my father's messes? As for your question, the answer is no. There is no betrothal planned."

"No betrothal?" There was something in the soft release of Syd's breath that had Octavian sitting up and grasping her hand. "Is he going to marry you off straight away then? No betrothal contract or banns read? Tell me the truth, Syd. Is this what he plans to do to save his own hide?"

She finally broke down and allowed her tears to fall. "Tomorrow is the big horse auction at Tattersalls, so Sir Henry will be attending that all day. I'm to marry him the day after tomorrow unless I can get my hands on my father's vowels and destroy them. The wedding is to take place at St. Andrew's Church. The plan is for Sir Henry to purchase the license, my father consents, and the ceremony occurs straight afterward. No more than ten minutes, start to finish. Everything a girl dreams of."

Octavian caressed her cheek. Sir Henry Maxwell, the lecherous old goat, had already buried two young wives. He had no intention of allowing Syd to be the third ill-fated wife, although why he should bother was beyond him. He had survived major battles with less injuries than incurred while rescuing this hazardous hoyden from her numerous scrapes. "So, he has no license yet?"

"None yet." She shook her head. "But what does it matter? He and my father have it all arranged. And I cannot find some hapless clot to marry me because I am not yet of age and need my father's consent."

"Hapless clot?" Octavian could not believe what he was about to offer. Syd was the most infuriating young woman it was ever his misfortune to know, but he had somehow taken her under his wing and sworn he would always protect her.

Yes, he had merely sworn this to himself and never actually made that vow to Syd. However, a vow was a vow. It made no difference who knew of it. She was in trouble and he was determined to save her. One thing for certain, life would never be dull with her. He rolled to his feet with care and drew her up along with him. "Come, you little nuisance. We had better leave before we're spotted."

He gave her no chance to protest, quietly lifting her over Sir Henry's gate and climbing over it next. He caught hold of her hand again, refusing to let go of her until they were safely back at his residence because he did not trust her to stay put.

To his surprise, she did not try to fight him. Instead, she cried fresh tears the moment they were safely in his carriage and underway, making rapid time as the conveyance clattered through the London streets that were fairly empty at this hour.

Seeing her so beaten down was far worse than seeing her angry.

Octavian drew her close and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, wishing she would get that blaze back in her eyes and rail at him again.

Seeing her scared and vulnerable completely destroyed him.

The rain had renewed by the time they reached the Thorne townhouse he shared with his brothers. Ambrose, who was the eldest of the Thornes, was Duke of Huntsford and owned the house. Octavian and their youngest brother, Julius, both of them bachelors and not often in London other than on business, shared the home with Ambrose. That would soon have to change since Ambrose was married to Adela, one of Syd's best friends, and they were busy starting a family.

But for now, they were one big, happy family residing together.

Octavian was the only Thorne in London at the moment. Ambrose and Adela were in Devonshire excavating more fossils while Julius was in York attending to family business matters. Octavian was due to travel north to Glasgow and Greenock on behalf of the Royal Navy at the end of the week, an assignment he could not refuse while still actively commissioned.

An idea sprang to mind, but he was not going to discuss it with Syd until they had changed out of their wet clothes and got warm liquids into them.

He took her straight inside as soon as the carriage drew up to the Thorne front gate. "Thank you, Hastings," he said to the driver. "I'll have no further need of the carriage tonight."

"Very good, Captain," the man replied with a nod, obviously relieved to be getting out of the rain himself.

Syd said nothing as they walked inside, but held him back when he was about to lead her upstairs. Her eyes widened in surprise. Well, not surprise so much as shock and horror once the import of what being alone with him meant. "Octavian, do you expect me to spend the night here with you? I?C"

"Not another word, Syd. What difference does it make? The best thing that could happen is for word of your indiscretion to get out and cause Sir Henry to refuse to marry you."

She did not appear to like the idea at all. "But then he will hurt my father."

"Your father is a little weasel who will manage to slip out of his punishment somehow." Octavian tried to suppress his anger but could not and it resounded in his voice. "Besides, it might do him some good to get knocked about."

"Octavian!"

"The man obviously needs sense pounded into him. Why are you so considerate of him when he has never spared a thought for you or your mother? He's burned away the Harcourt assets at the gaming tables or on fanciful business schemes, and does not give a fig about having you bear the punishment for his actions."

Since he was still holding onto Syd's hand, he felt the ripples of shame flow through her. "Sorry, Syd. Falling off a roof in the pouring rain tends to put me in bad humor."

"My father is an awful scoundrel," she said with aching sadness. "I cannot blame you for despising him. But he has been a loving father to me. He does not mean to do the things he does. He keeps thinking his luck will turn with the next roll of the dice or the next ridiculous business venture."

"That does not excuse him." He led her upstairs to his bedchamber and lit a fire in the hearth. The wood had already been stacked neatly in the grate, so it took him little time to get a healthy blaze going. While it was not a cold night, dampness filled the air and Syd was shivering.

Octavian raked a hand through his hair.

What was he to do with her?

She was desperate for help and too ashamed ever to ask for it. Her heart was so battered, she did not even comment when he strode to her side and removed her coat and cap.

Octavian studied her by the golden firelight that illuminated his bedchamber.

She had donned boys clothes that were a few sizes too big for her. Cap, shirt and jacket, breeches, and sturdy boots. Tendrils of wet hair were pasted to her cheeks, and her glorious mass of ginger-blonde hair was barely held up by the few pins that had not yet fallen out.

She was soaked, bedraggled, and looked achingly beautiful.

"I'll fetch you a nightgown and robe from Adela's armoire," he said with a rasp to his voice. "Dry yourself off as best as you can. I won't be gone long."

"Do you expect me to sleep in here?" Her eyes, as she now gazed at him, were an ensorcelling green, as translucent as the crystal lochs one encountered in the Scottish highlands. They were also filled with pain and humiliation.

"Yes. But we are not going to share the bed, if this is what has you concerned. I am not going to touch you, Syd. You have my word of honor. Let me get those dry garments for you and we'll figure out the rest of it once we have both dried off."

He left before she could object.

It took only a moment for Octavian to dig through Adela's things and pull out a sturdy, cotton nightgown and light woolen robe. He would leave Syd to go through the rest of Adela's belongings tomorrow and pull out whatever gowns and unmentionables she needed for their journey.

What else could he do but take her to Scotland with him? It was the only way to keep her out of Sir Henry's clutches. He had planned to leave at the end of the week, but there was nothing to stop him from leaving tomorrow instead.

All he needed to do was keep weapons out of Syd's reach when he told her what he intended to do. No discussion. She was coming with him.

And he was going to marry her.

"Oh, you're back already." Syd had done little more than pull out the pins in her hair by the time he returned to his bedchamber. It was a large, well-appointed room with a big, canopied bed, a desk, several comfortable chairs, a thick, oriental rug, and an ornate Chinese screen that he had received as a gift from the Admiralty in advance of an upcoming promotion.

Syd could easily change behind the screen.

"Here, Syd. Take off your clothes and put these on. I'll turn around while you do."

Octavian could not see over the screen since it was taller than even his impressive height, but wanted to give her that extra margin of comfort and turn away. Besides, he needed to get out of his own sopping wet clothes.

She hesitated, but nodded and dipped behind the screen.

He tossed a towel over it. "Use this to dry yourself off."

"Stop giving me orders, Octavian. I know what to do."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered under his breath, sincerely concerned about her state of mind. Lady Sydney Harcourt, albeit his dream woman ?C Lord, help him, what a disaster ?C was just as often the bane of his existence. Stubborn. Reckless. Too smart for her own good.

Too soft for her own good.

Unless he stopped her, she was going to sacrifice herself to save her undeserving father, the Earl of Harcourt, and Octavian had no intention of allowing this to happen. He tried to keep his heart from exploding within his chest as she tossed over each item she had been wearing until she had nothing left to toss and was now naked behind the screen.

Lord, help him.

His heart was not the only body part he could not seem to control.

He had just flung off his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt when she tipped her head around the screen and huffed. "It is not your place to rescue me from my father's mistakes."

He turned fully to face her and strode closer, wanting to grab her by the shoulders and shake sense into her. But he dared not touch her in his current state of arousal. How did this girl manage to turn him upside down? Most times, he did not even like her. "It is not your place to sacrifice yourself on the funeral pyre he created. I do not care what devil's pact your father signed onto. Sir Henry is a blood-sucking leech and you are not going to marry him."

Syd reached out and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Octavian! You haven't the right to tell me what to do."

He had every right because he was going to marry her whether she liked it or not. By heaven, he was going to protect her even if it killed him, which it probably would because this girl did not know how to stay out of trouble.

Since she was frowning at him, he suspected she was not going to be happy with his edict. Not that he cared. Someone had to inject sense into this situation.

Not that he was sensible in the least just now.

In leaning over to swat him, Syd had unwittingly given him a glimpse of a bare breast peeking out from under her tumble of hair. He took a step back before he knocked the screen aside and tossed her naked onto his bed.

"I am not discussing this with you," he said with a growl and strode to the fireplace to stare into the flames while struggling to cool the heat pulsing through his loins. After a moment, he spoke again. "You are coming to Scotland with me. Your father will have no obligation to Sir Henry once his vowels are paid, is that right?"

"Yes." Syd fumbled behind the screen to don her borrowed nightgown and robe. "Why are you asking me this? Octavian, do not be so foolish as to consider paying off Sir Henry."

He had stripped out of all but his wet breeches, and thought it safest to keep them on for now. He needed that cold water at his loins because he refused to embarrass himself in front of Syd. She did not love him. He did not love her...that is, what he felt could not possibly be love since half the time he wanted to throttle her.

And yet, he responded to her like a bull in heat. "How great is the debt?"

It could not have been too extravagant since her father had cleared all his past debts only last year after sacrificing his niece to his then largest creditor, a surly but otherwise honest Scot. By chance, the pair fell in love.

Syd would have no such luck.

Sir Henry was repulsive in every way.

Yes, the better plan was to grab Syd and haul her off to safety, her father be damned. Afterward, they would work out the details of a debt repayment and agree to some sort of betrothal arrangement or marriage settlement. Yes, it had to be a marriage settlement. He did not want Syd continuing to be at risk because she was merely betrothed to him. Her father would never honor that betrothal, nor even suffer a pang of conscience before stealing Syd and marrying her off to that repugnant oaf, Sir Henry, or another of his creditors. "We can marry in Scotland without your father's consent."

"I am going to beat you about the head if you repeat that suggestion. You must let me go to Sir Henry," Syd said, her voice tight with despair. "Please. My father's debt to him exceeds five thousand pounds. I cannot ask you to pay off such a vast sum. So you see, his life is at risk unless my marriage to Sir Henry goes through."

"And what of your life? Save your breath, Syd. I am not allowing him to sell you into bondage for his mistakes. You are not a commodity to be traded in this fashion."

"I know you mean well, but?C"

"Be quiet." Octavian knew he could be a rude arse at times, but did this occasion not warrant it? "You are not talking your way out of this."

"And what exactly is this? What gives you the right to interfere?" She was standing beside him now, clad in a nightgown buttoned up to her throat and a soft pink robe.

She gazed up at him with her luminescent green eyes. "Octavian," she whispered brokenly and put a hand on his shoulder. "What about your life? Your happiness?"

How could he ever be happy if she was miserable? "We'll work out the terms of our arrangement, I promise. Something to suit us both. I could not live with myself if ever you were hurt."

She pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Why do you have to be so nice to me, you big ox? I have been nothing but trouble for you."

Yes, all she said was true. Why he should bother with her at all was beyond him.

As the son of a duke, and now brother to the current Duke of Huntsford, in addition to being a Royal Navy captain wealthy in his own right, he was used to women fluttering around him, willing to hop into bed with him at his mere nod.

They were easy women.

Uncomplicated.

Demanding nothing of him beyond the pleasure of his body.

So why was he determined to marry Syd, this hoyden who would make it her life's ambition to irritate and rile him?

He saw her shiver lightly as he stared at her.

The girl was scared, but too proud ever to admit it.

So typical of her.

"Gad, you are an idiot," she whispered.

He laughed. "I know."

"Octavian, are you serious about marrying me?"

"Yes, Syd." He stared once more into the flames, afraid to look at her beautiful face for fear he might decide he actually loved her. He wanted affection left out of their union entirely. Syd was already too hard to handle. She would be impossible if she sensed how deeply he cared for her.

Her father needed to suffer a little for his callous behavior and Sir Henry needed to find himself another wife...one who was not Syd. In truth, he was doing both men a favor. First, teaching her father there were dire consequences to his foolhardy actions. Second, relieving Sir Henry of the misery Syd would put him through.

This girl was simply not biddable.

"Octavian, if you are going to be stubborn about taking me to Scotland, then you had better know everything. My father has gambled through my dowry and the trust funds my grandmother left me. I went to the bank yesterday and..." Her voice hitched. "The account has been closed. The manager advised me the last of the funds were withdrawn last week. I don't even have the means to run away with you."

"Oh, Syd," he said with a wrenching groan. "You are under my protection now and not going to pay for anything."

"But I would bring nothing to our marriage." She appeared sincerely distressed by something that truly meant nothing to him.

His brother had impressive wealth as Duke of Huntsford, but Octavian had acquired his own fortune on the high seas and never required his brother's largesse to survive in the style to which he had become accustomed. "I don't need your dowry. The decision to marry you has nothing to do with any fortune you might bring with you."

"Which is none."

He wiped a tear off her cheek.

Oh, Lord.

This girl was definitely too proud for her own good.

"We'll figure this out," he said, hoping to console her. He could not bear to see her cry. "I promise you, Syd. You know I would never hurt you."

"I know." She buried her face in her hands. "Oh, why do you insist on saving me? I had numbed myself to the misery of marrying Sir Henry. I was ready."

"You will never be ready for what Sir Henry has in mind for you. Get some sleep now. We have a long journey ahead of us."

She looked up at him. "A fake betrothal might work. Then you would not have to give up your happiness for me."

"A fake betrothal will never work. You know I am right, Syd. Your father would never honor it, even if he were inclined to give his consent, which he is not."

"A fake marriage it is then," she said with a reluctant nod. "Thank you. I will try to be as unobtrusive as possible."

He suppressed a burst of laughter.

Syd did not know the meaning of unobtrusive.

"I'm not sure how one fakes a marriage," she mused. "Once vows are exchanged, the marriage is presumed done. Once it is consummated, there is no turning back."

She paused to reflect on this a moment longer, then her eyes widened. "Oh, I see. We do not consummate it. Is this what you have in mind? That is an excellent idea. You give me the protection of your name in marriage, but we can always undo it at a later date if it proves necessary. I will turn twenty-one in nine months time. Then I will be free of my father's control...and you have only to say the word to be free of me. I will grant you the annulment if you wish it. I expect such a thing is easily accomplished in Scotland since they are quite lax about this sort of thing, right? Quick ceremony. No bother about being of age. Quietly undone within the year. Thank you, Octavian. Yes, I will marry you. I wish we were on the road already. Nine months," she repeated softly. "I don't even have nine minutes to spare."

"We'll leave tomorrow morning and stop off at Gretna Green before making our way to the Greenock shipyards." He had won this round, but why did he feel like the loser? It would not be a true marriage. She would leave him in nine months time. Would they lead separate lives all the while?

"How are we to travel north?" she asked, now smiling as they made their plans.

"In one of the Huntsford carriages. Do you think I travel by mail coach?"

She gave a soft trill of laughter. "No, I don't suppose you do." But her mirth quickly faded. "Octavian..."

"What, Syd?"

She clasped her hands in front of her and would not look him in the eye as she spoke. "What arrangements are we to have on the way up?"

Bed. Naked. Wild, wanton sex.

But that was just his aching loins having a say, and the last thing Syd needed to hear. "The thing of it is," he said, trying to sound logical so as not to scare her off, "I cannot leave you in a room on your own. Your father and Sir Henry will quickly figure out you have run off and might pick up our trail. It is safest if we share a room. I can make a pallet for myself on the floor wherever we stay. In any event, no reputable inn will allow an unmarried lady as young and pretty as you to sign in on her own. You'll have to pretend to be my wife, just for the week it takes us to cross into Scotland. We'll travel fast. Marry the moment we cross the border. Then you will be my wife in truth."

She stared up at him with those ensorcelling eyes of hers. "So, just to be clear...in that time, what will you expect of me?"

"On the trip to Scotland? Nothing of that sort, Syd. I will not touch you without your willingness. But what I will expect is for you to behave, to actually look like a newlywed in love, to not run off on your own as though you answer to nobody, or punch some poor wretch because he uttered a remark not to your liking. Can you do this?"

"Of course, I can. Do you have so little faith in me?"

"I have every faith you are going to make me regret this undertaking."

"Octavian!"

He ignored her indignant huff.

There was more to discuss, but he was tired and still a bit achy from that fall. He wanted to check out the lump on his head which was merely the size of a tiny goose egg and had not broken skin, but one could not be too careful about such things. Then he wanted to sleep. There would be time tomorrow to think about their marriage plans. She believed an unconsummated marriage was something easy to annul. In truth, it was not. There needed to be more grounds than the bride remained a virgin.

Both of them would have to come to terms with this being a permanent marriage if an annulment was impossible. Divorce was out of the question for him. He had a career in the Royal Navy. He would soon be made an Admiral of the Fleet.

All would be lost if they divorced.

Even a quiet annulment might ruin his standing.

"Syd, if the fake marriage cannot be undone, can you be my wife in truth?"

She looked up at him again. "Share your bed? Bear your children? Is this what you are demanding?"

"I am only trying to think of all possibilities."

"I see. It is not an easy answer, but something we must consider before taking another step. I have never even kissed you."

"That is something easily remedied."

"I suppose." She nodded, reaching out and lightly running her finger across his lips. "In truth, I have never kissed anyone before."

This was not surprising, for Syd, as beautiful as she was, tended to scare off men. She was very smart. In fact, he considered her brilliant. Easily smarter than him when it came to book knowledge. "Then I'll be gentle."

Her eyes grew wide again. "You will?"

Octavian nodded. "I will always be gentle with you. You need never worry that I will hurt you."

"It never crossed my mind. Truly, Octavian. I know you are big and can appear quite daunting when you scowl, which you seem to do a lot around me. But I have always trusted you. You are the most honorable man I know. Well, same can be said for your brothers. Your father raised excellent sons."

He breathed a sigh of relief, for was this not a major step toward a good marriage? They had no chance at a decent union if there was no trust between them. It also helped if the wife was not deathly afraid of the husband.

He did not think Syd was afraid of anything.

Well, having to marry Sir Henry Maxwell had her gravely concerned.

Octavian tipped her chin up so that their gazes met. "I am going to kiss you now, Syd. All right?"

She nodded.

"Close your eyes and put all thoughts out of your head. Kisses are about pleasure. No ploys or stratagems required."

"I will try. But I am very tense right now. Not merely because I am about to be kissed by you, which is an unexpected turn of events, but a welcome one, if I am to be truthful about it. But I have so much on my mind, and now I have to worry about letting you down."

"You will not let me down." He took her hands and placed them lightly on his shoulders.

"How can I not? I am a novice at this and...oh, you've wrapped your arms around me."

"Keep yours on my shoulders. Close your eyes and stop talking."

"Well, that is not very romantic of you."

"Sorry. I do not want you talking yourself into a state of fretting. Kisses are about feelings, Syd. How does it feel for you to be in my arms?"

"Unexpected, actually." She reached up and nuzzled his neck. "Is that bergamot?"

He nodded.

"The scent is nice on you. Your skin is warm. Your body is surprisingly nice. Well, not very surprising. It's just...you have no shirt on and I am touching your skin. I've seen naked cadavers, of course. But this is not at all the same thing. Would we do this in the marriage?"

"What? Me holding you in my arms? If you like."

"Octavian, you are being remarkably cooperative."

He stifled his laughter, knowing she was already tense and would run off at his slightest misstep. "It is what husbands and wives do in a good marriage."

She nestled against his chest. "My parents have a horrible marriage. The only thing I learned from them was never to do what they did. Please don't be angry with me if I make mistakes. Starting with kisses. My parents never kiss each other."

"Then this is important, Syd. If you don't like my kisses, we had better rethink the situation."

"I'll consider it carefully. I promise."

This is what he liked about Syd, her natural honesty.

She was not a schemer or a manipulator. You always got the truth from her. Perhaps this is why he felt confident she would give him an honest answer about their kiss, even if it did set her plans back to square one.

She tilted her head up to give him unimpeded access to her lips.

He closed his mouth over hers, pressing down gently at first, and then sinking his mouth deeper onto hers until he felt her fingers curl upon his shoulders and heard a soft moan escape her lips.

He held her in his arms as though she were delicate and precious, which she was...although perhaps not really delicate. He liked that she was brave and spirited, and especially liked that she was now kissing him back with innocent ardor.

Blessed saints!

What was he doing?

Had this kiss just sealed his fate?

He ended the kiss and awaited her response.

She stared at him for the longest time, then burst into tears.

This is why Syd was the most frustrating young woman it was ever his misfortune to know. Could she not even test out a kiss without twisting his heart in knots? "Syd, stop crying. Are you going to marry me or not?"