Page 55

Chapter Two

“ H ow could you, Father? How could you ?”

Christine stood before her father, her hands balled into fists at her side, glaring at the earl, who was seated, legs crossed, near the fire in the parlor of their townhouse in Mayfair.

The wedding party had dispersed an hour ago. People had drifted out of the church, shocked, whispering amongst themselves, casting furtive glances at the earl and his younger daughter.

Christine knew that the gossip would spread like wildfire and the scandal would probably hit the sheets by tomorrow morning. She could see the headline now.

Lady Violet Andrews, the runaway bride, leaves the Duke of Ironstone stranded at the altar.

Christine took a deep, ragged breath, focusing on her father again. She rarely stood up to him. She simply didn’t get angry enough to do it, even though he always half ignored her.

Christine had always been the endnote to the glorious story that was Violet, after all. She had been living in her older sister’s shadow since she had been a mere babe in arms.

Not anymore. Violet was gone. The golden daughter had flown the nest in the most spectacular way.

What was my sister thinking? Why did she do it?

The earl put a weary hand on his forehead, gazing at her. “I had no choice, Christine,” he barked. “It was the only way to contain this mess. It will look better if the duke marries one of my daughters, at least…”

“Is that all you can think about?” Christine’s voice was filled with scorn. “How to turn this catastrophe around and make it respectable ? What about Violet? You do not seem to care what has happened to her at all!”

“Of course I care,” shot back her father, glaring at her.

“I will keep searching for her.” He picked up the sherry glass on the table beside him, draining it.

“But the damage has been done now, and even if I find Violet, the duke will never have her after what she has done. He wants you instead, Christine.” His voice was filled with scornful disbelief.

“The duke must have a bride…and you are the only one available on such short notice.”

Christine felt a hot flush ride up her neck, staining her face.

The derision in her father’s voice was hurtful, to say the least. She didn’t know why, though.

It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to it. She had always been the second daughter, an afterthought, to be tolerated but never indulged.

She had never been cossetted and pampered like Violet.

She took a deep breath, suppressing the hurt, as she always did. She truly loved her older sister. Violet’s safety was the priority now.

“You should be searching for Violet now,” she said, raising her chin, glaring at him. “All your efforts should be focused on finding my sister, rather than pandering to the Duke of Ironstone. What does it matter if he must wait for his bride? Why is it always about appearances for you, Father?”

The earl glared at her. “That is enough, Christine,” he snapped. “You are being insolent, and I will not listen to another word! How you believe that you have a right to comment on the matter is beyond me. You are my dependent and you will do as I command!”

He took a deep breath. “You may go to your chambers and take off your wedding gown. Lord knows, you will need to don it again in two days. It needs to stay fresh. I will not fork out for another one…”

Her father’s voice was starting to fade, for Christine was already marching out of the parlor. Her back was stiff and ramrod straight. Her face grew hotter still. She couldn’t recall the last time she had been so angry and affronted.

She flew up the staircase to her chambers, banging the door behind her.

Her lady’s maid, Meg, jumped, almost dropping the pile of freshly laundered linen she was holding in her hands.

“Oh, milady,” breathed the maid, her eyes as wide as saucers. “I cannot believe what has happened! How are you?”

“I am discombobulated, Meg,” cried Christine, collapsing onto her bed. She blinked back tears. “Where is my sister? Do you have any idea what happened?”

Meg sighed heavily, shaking her head. “No, milady. Lady Violet said she was stepping out for some air…but she never returned to the house at all. The servants searched everywhere, but she has vanished entirely.”

“Can you call for her maid?” Christine stared hard at Meg. “Violet may have told Grace where she was going—or at least hinted at it.”

“I am afraid that is impossible, milady,” replied Meg, biting her lip. “Grace is gone, as well. We have not seen her since this morning.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “Grace is gone? How long has she been gone?”

Meg shrugged. “No one noticed Grace was gone as well for quite a while, Milady. Everyone was too preoccupied trying to locate Lady Violet, you see.”

Christine blinked rapidly. “Do you think Grace is trying to find her, then?”

Meg shrugged again. “It is possible, milady. I will let you know if your sister’s maid returns.”

“Yes, send her to me immediately.” Suddenly, Christine slumped, before getting to her feet. “And please, get this damnable gown off me, Meg. I cannot soil it. I am to wear it again in two days—to marry the duke of Ironstone.”

“Oh, milady,” breathed Meg, rushing to her side. “What a terrible mess it is. I am so very sorry.”

Christine didn’t reply as the maid started unlacing the gown with quick, expert fingers. She gripped one of the posters on her bed to stop herself falling.

She was so exhausted and overwhelmed. Her mind was still swirling like a carousel of nightmares.

Unless Violet was found soon, or returned home, she would be marrying the duke of Ironstone instead.

How was she to endure marriage to such a frightening man?

Two days later, Edwin was pacing the floor of a different, smaller church, in a less fashionable area of London. He glared at the congregation, which was much smaller, as well.

His daughters weren’t here—he had ordered they return to Ironstone, his ancestral home in Essex, with their extremely twitchy governess, Miss Mayhew.

He frowned. Isabella and Beatrice had been asking far too many questions about this utter debacle for his liking. He couldn’t risk them humiliating him any further with their unruly antics.

The church doors opened.

Edwin swung around, squinting. He could just see the silhouette of the Earl of Dunhill, holding the arm of his younger daughter.

A small pang of relief shot through him. Still, a small part of him scratched and clawed.

For the girls , he reminded himself, silencing that part.

He raked a hand through his hair, breathing deeply, turning back to the altar. The music started playing. He didn’t turn again until the lady reached him, and her father withdrew.

Edwin’s eyes flickered over her.

Lady Christine. His new bride.

He studied her covertly. He had barely taken any notice of the Earl of Dunhill’s younger daughter the two times he had paid courtesy visits at their Mayfair townhouse to see Lady Violet prior to the wedding. Lady Christine had somehow blended into the shadows.

He had been left with the impression of an unassuming, quiet woman, who clearly played second fiddle to her more beautiful, brilliant elder sister.

He had made enquiries about the family, of course, and discovered that Violet was the diamond of the Andrews sisters, universally admired and sought, while her younger sister was deemed a mouse, who was barely accomplished.

And now, that mouse was to become his wife. And the next Duchess of Ironstone.

His eyes flickered over her again. She was a petite woman, with a rather curvaceous figure, her bosom straining against the bodice of the same cream silk wedding gown she had been wearing just two days ago, when she had been marked for the fop Trentham.

She had silky, dark golden hair, swept up into a chignon, which was dressed with brightly sparkling diamantes, scattered like stars.

He felt a spark kindle deep into his stomach, and further down below.

Attraction.

Entirely unexpected, extremely discomforting and astonishing.

Turn and look at me, little mouse.

As if she had heard the command of his mind, Lady Christine turned, gazing up at him.

His eyes flickered again as he studied her face intently for the first time. It was heart-shaped, with a slightly pointed chin, and she had large blueish-green eyes, the color of the lake at Ironstone on a summer’s day.

At that moment, the lady bit her lower lip. He noticed that her lips were rosy red and full, and her teeth were small, even and white.

The mouse was actually rather pretty. In fact, she was somewhat delectable.

He felt a small, entirely unexpected stirring in his breeches. He coughed into his hand, glaring at the vicar.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he barked, causing the vicar to jump. “Let us get on with it. No one wants to be here all day.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” stammered the vicar. He took a deep breath. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

Edwin disregarded the opening words of the ceremony as they washed over him.

He heard his bride sigh, in a shuddering way. He was suddenly conscious of her bosom rising and falling. Determinedly, he fixed his eyes on the vicar, trying to concentrate.

The short ceremony was over and done within minutes. He turned, taking his new wife’s hand, pulling her down the aisle toward the doors.

There would be no wedding breakfast or any formal celebration this time. He could not abide this nonsense for a second longer than required, now.

I must go back to Ironstone. The sooner she settles in and takes the reins with the twins, the better.

That was the only reason he wanted another wife, after all.

The carriage was waiting on the church steps. His new wife turned to her father who had reached them, fixing him with a stern look.

“Please, Father, promise me that you will keep searching for Violet,” she said, in a quiet, pleading voice. “Do not stop.”

“I hardly need you to remind me of my duty, Christine,” the earl replied stiffly, looking affronted.

There was a cold, awkward silence. Christine bit the inside of her cheek, turning away from her father. Clearly, there was little love lost between them.

“We must go,” said Edwin, in a cross voice. “We will not make it to Ironstone before sunset if we do not leave now.” He turned to his new father-in-law. “Farewell, Lord Dunhill.”

The earl bowed. Edwin grabbed his wife’s hand, leading her toward the carriage.

The driver cracked the whip, and they were away, driving through the crowded streets of London, heading towards the country…and Ironstone Castle.

At long last.

Edwin leaned back against the carriage wall, sighing heavily, closing his eyes.

What an utter debacle.

Home couldn’t come a moment too soon.