One Week to Wed Read online

  ‘It’s lovely, Lizzy. Perhaps you’d like to borrow my fichu? I believe that gown was designed to wear with one.’

  ‘Nonsense. I am in a position now to search for a husband. I see no reason to hide the assets God has given me.’

  ‘Your husband has just died.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He is lying over there.’

  Lizzy rolled her eyes. ‘Skeffington is dead. He can’t see me.’

  ‘But those in attendance can.’

  ‘If one is to catch a husband, one needs to bait them.’ She cast a disapproving eye at Charlotte’s fichu. ‘How I wish you would put away your widow’s weeds. I haven’t seen you out of mourning attire in years.’

  None of her family and friends understood what it was like to have the man you loved ripped from you. When the letter arrived, informing her Jonathan had perished nobly during the Battle of Waterloo, the pain of losing him was more than she thought she could bear. He had been aide-de-camp to Wellington. A man in that position was not supposed to die. A man in that position should have returned from the war and settled with her into a comfortable life. Other men had returned. Why couldn’t he?

  ‘For the hundredth time, I will not marry unless I become destitute and I’m forced to do so. The heart isn’t capable of falling in love twice in a lifetime and there is no reason to marry if it’s not for love.’

  The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could have taken them back. Charlotte had been fortunate to be allowed to marry the man she loved because it cemented an age-old alliance between their families. Lizzy had been ordered to marry a pompous old man for his title. There was no need to remind her of that.

  ‘You always were the sentimental one. Not everyone needs to marry for love. However, I assure you the next time my marriage banns are read in church people will not give me pitying looks. This time, I will see jealousy in their eyes.’

  ‘Why does it sound as if you have already set your sights on the man you’d like to marry?’

  ‘Perhaps I have,’ she replied with a broad smile. ‘Which reminds me. You need to go upstairs.’ She began pulling Charlotte towards the door by the elbow.

  ‘I assure you I am not in need of a respite. Violet is unpacking my belongings as we speak. I want to be here by your side through all of this, just as you supported me. I know how distressing this can be.’

  ‘Charlotte, do I look distressed?’ Lizzy tilted her head. ‘I thought not.’

  ‘But I haven’t even paid my respects to the Duke.’

  ‘I assure you, he won’t miss you. I need you to have Marie get my dress ready for this evening. And perhaps you can go to Lock and Company and purchase me a hat like the one you are wearing. Or you can let me borrow your hat. Oh, please let me borrow yours. The more I look upon it, the more I like it and there probably isn’t one exactly like that in the shop.’

  ‘Tonight? Where are you going tonight?’

  ‘I’m going to the burial service.’

  Charlotte pulled her to a stop. There were rules and as the oldest Sommersby sister it often fell to her to remind Lizzy of them. ‘You can’t go,’ she whispered sternly. ‘It’s not done.’

  ‘I’m a duchess. I can be as eccentric as I wish.’

  ‘What of the new Duke? Surely he will not approve of such behaviour.’

  ‘He is not in London to offer any opinion on the matter. I am going to that church tonight. You can either help me with my arrangements or you can add to the pain this whole event is causing me by trying to thwart me. Either way, I will go.’

  Why did Lizzy have to be so stubborn? ‘It’s too dangerous to travel with the funeral procession through the streets of London at night.’

  ‘I shall have the funeral furnisher arrange armed escorts for my carriage.’

  ‘You don’t think it will cause gossip?’

  ‘I am a grieving widow who wants to be with my husband to the very end.’ She opened her eyes wide and batted her lashes.

  ‘Lizzy, do you not believe Skeffington is dead? Do you think he will sit up and prove everyone wrong? Is that what this is about?’

  ‘No, of course not. I witnessed his last breath. I even poked him with my fork to be certain. The man is dead. But another man will be at the service and he is the reason I need to be there.’ She gave Charlotte a genuine, warm smile. ‘Do this for me, Sister. It isn’t that much to ask of you, is it? I need to be there.’

  Three years separated them in age. They had been very close growing up. Before Charlotte married Jonathan, they had been inseparable. Lizzy raised her eyebrows and smiled again, resembling the young girl who loved to try on Charlotte’s gowns and sit on her bed to fix her hair. It was hard not to smile back.

  ‘Will you help me pick out a suitable gown, Charlotte? Please.’

  ‘Very well. I will help you with your plan to attend church this evening. But you must permit me to go along with you. I do not want you to travel alone. Now go back to do your duty as his widow and I will arrange to have a suitable dress ready for you.’

  ‘And your hat? You’ll let me wear your hat?’

  Charlotte covered her lips to hide her smile. ‘Yes, Lizzy. I will let you wear my hat.’

  Her sister kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her hand. ‘You are the best of sisters. Thank you again for coming to Town to be with me through this. I know how much you dislike leaving your village, however you shall not regret it.’

  While Lizzy might have been glad she was here, Charlotte knew her calm and orderly life was about to be disrupted in unknown ways. She could feel it.

  Chapter Two

  Andrew saw no sense in accompanying the funeral procession to St Paul’s and helping to add to the spectacle. His brothers could do that for him. He arrived at the Cathedral after the funeral service had already begun, making his way up the aisle past prominent Members of Parliament and the ton to slip into the row his brothers were occupying not far from the altar. Monty covered a yawn as he nodded a silent greeting to him.

  It wasn’t until the bishop began the eulogy that Andrew shifted his gaze and noticed a black-ostrich plume sway in the front row, across the aisle. He shifted his head and saw the back of a woman wearing a black bonnet like the one he had seen on the woman he almost ran into while leaving Skeffington’s house. This wasn’t the place for a woman.

  ‘What do you know of the new Duke?’ he whispered, tipping his head towards Monty.

  ‘You mean Skeffington’s mysterious heir? No one I know has ever heard of him.’

  ‘Nephew?’

  ‘Distant cousin.’

  ‘Married?’

  ‘I would assume he’s married or a widower.’

  Could he have run into the new Duchess of Skeffington when he was leaving the wake? It might explain why she was in the front of the church now. If they lived in the country they might not know women in Town did not attend burials.

  Andrew craned his neck further to try to get a glimpse of the new Duke, but his view was blocked by the rows of mourners. His attention was drawn once more to the back of the black bonnet. If only her face hadn’t been covered with a veil, he would have a better idea of what she looked like.

  As if the universe had called out to her, the woman turned and scanned the rows of mourners. However, this wasn’t the woman Andrew had almost knocked over. It was Skeffington’s widow. There was no mistaking her in the dim light of the cathedral with the veil of the bonnet tucked above the brim, revealing her face.

  As her eyes locked on to his with the precision of a sniper, Andrew shifted his gaze to the bishop so quickly, it was a wonder he hadn’t injured his eye sockets.

  * * *

  The bishop was telling them not to mourn Skeffington’s death, but celebrate the life he lived. Charlotte hadn’t known Lizzy’s husband very well. He had barely spoken to her wh
en they were in the same room and what he had said could be considered rather dismissing. From the newspaper accounts she had read about him and from Lizzy’s letters, he appeared to have behaved that way with most people.

  But regardless of what she thought of Lizzy’s husband, the bishop was still wrong. There was no celebration in death. It only left intense pain for those who loved them. When Jonathan died on the battlefield, Charlotte died along with him.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lizzy turn around. Softly, Charlotte stepped on Lizzy’s slipper, drawing her sister’s attention back to the front of the church.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ Lizzy whispered harshly.

  They bent their heads so the brims of their bonnets were touching. ‘You really should be paying attention to your husband’s eulogy.’

  ‘The bishop’s probably expressing the same thing he did at the house this afternoon when he offered his condolences. Honestly, how many different ways can one talk about death? He probably says the same thing at all his burial services and just adjusts the names. And he is getting paid a tidy sum to say those words.’

  ‘You may find comfort in what he is saying?’

  ‘Do I truly look as though I need comforting?’

  ‘Not exactly, but you could pretend.’

  There was a distinct pause to Lizzy’s movements. ‘That’s it. I’ll appear the grieving widow in need of comfort.’ She dabbed under her eyes with a handkerchief.

  ‘You look as though you have something in your eye.’

  ‘I’m crying.’

  ‘No matter how hard you wrinkle up your face, tears will not flow.’

  ‘Step on my foot.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do it.’

  ‘I will not. I’ve already stepped on your foot.’

  ‘Yes, yes, but do it harder this time. It needs to hurt so much, it brings tears to my eyes.’

  ‘I will not help you perpetrate a lie in the house of God.’

  ‘It won’t be a lie if you step on my foot hard enough.’

  ‘I will not. Now, stop talking and pay attention,’ Charlotte whispered firmly back.

  Lizzy turned around once more. And once more Charlotte stepped on her foot.

  ‘I said harder. How am I to cry if you can’t manage to maim me?’

  ‘What in the world has captured your attention at a time like this?’

  ‘He’s here.’

  ‘Who? The next Duke? If you wish to remain here, I suggest you do nothing to call attention to yourself. He might drag us both back home, which I could understand.’

  ‘Not him. The man I’ve wanted ever since my first Season, but Father made me marry Skeffington instead. He is the brother of the Duke of Winterbourne.’

  Charlotte turned to try to see who her sister was looking at, but the men behind them blocked her view. ‘How is it you’ve never mentioned him before?’

  ‘I did, the night of my coming-out ball, but shortly after that Father told me I’d be marrying Skeffington. I thought I’d lost my chance to marry him, but all this time he has remained unwed. Now I can finally have him.’

  Charlotte had tried to convince their mother to speak out against Lizzy’s marriage. Their mother would not hear of it. For years Charlotte had suffered with guilt that she could have done more to stop the marriage. She had been newly married herself then and Jonathan advised her not to approach her father on the issue. She had often wondered if she had, would it have made a difference. Whoever this man was, Lizzy deserved him. She deserved to fall in love with that one person who would make her life so much better just by being in it—everyone did.

  They were leaving for Charlotte’s home in Cheshire in a few days, so Lizzy could begin her full mourning period away from the tempting entertainments of London. She was relieved her sister agreed that, if she remained in Town reading newspaper accounts of all the balls, routs and dinners that she was missing, she would be miserable. Now they had months to spend together again. And when Lizzy returned to Town, Charlotte was certain there would be no stopping her sister from trying to win the gentleman who stood somewhere behind them.

  Chapter Three

  Four months later...

  Andrew stood outside Gabriel’s study and knocked on the large mahogany door. There was a time when he wouldn’t have had to wait for approval to enter, but since his brother had reconciled with his wife a little less than a year ago, Andrew had got into the habit of knocking. At the muffled sound of Gabriel’s response, he turned the handle and walked into the room.

  His brother was seated at his massive desk and his attention was on a piece of paper resting on its surface, while he absently ran his fingers through his short light brown hair. Andrew sank into the well-cushioned chair across from him and held back a yawn. Gabriel barely acknowledged him since he was so engrossed in the task at hand. As the head of an organisation that protected the King and Prince Regent, as well as being a Member of Parliament, it wasn’t uncommon for Gabriel to be in the middle of something when Andrew entered his study.

  After a few more minutes, Gabriel looked up and arched his brow. ‘Hell, man, you look awful.’

  Andrew had ridden back to London in the early morning hours from Windsor and he hadn’t had any sleep. ‘I realise I’m not as impeccably attired as you, but I do believe awful is an exaggeration.’

  ‘I wasn’t referring to what you are wearing. I was referring to those bloodshot eyes you can’t seem to keep open and the shave you desperately need.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You need sleep.’

  Andrew waved the suggestion away. His leather glove rubbed against the cut on his right hand, irritating it through the bandage. As he removed both gloves, Gabriel’s keen eyes focused on the cotton strip.

  ‘How did you get that?’

  ‘A knife fight at Windsor. It’s small.’

  ‘How will you explain that one away?’

  ‘I box regularly at Jackson’s. There are times I like to bare-knuckle brawl. It’s well known. No one questions my scars.’

  ‘You once told Nicholas ladies like men with scars. He was eager to inform me of that bit of wisdom.’

  ‘The ladies I associate with do.’

  ‘However, not the ladies my six-year-old son does. I received word Kempt is now under guard in the Tower. Excellent work bringing him in.’

  ‘It wasn’t easy, but it made for an interesting day.’ He raised his bandaged hand to show how interesting it had been to capture the would-be assassin of King George. Andrew tilted his head in an attempt to read the papers on Gabriel’s desk.

  His brother turned the stack over.

  ‘What else do you have for me to do? There must be some interrogation you can use my assistance on or a lead you need me to follow.’

  ‘I have nothing for you.’

  That wasn’t possible. ‘You have nothing or nothing for me.’

  ‘Nothing for you at the moment. Enjoy some time to avoid knife fights and pursue your own interests.’

  ‘Knife fights are an interest of mine.’

  ‘Then go find other ones. You’ve been working for months without stop. When was the last time you spent a significant amount of time simply going wherever the day takes you, doing whatever you want to do?’

  ‘I would grow bored.’

  ‘You might find that you don’t.’

  ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’

  ‘I am trying to ensure you do not drop from exhaustion or get injured because you have overtaxed yourself.’

  ‘If this is about my hand, I—’

  ‘This isn’t about your hand, Andrew. Although, move your fingers so I can be sure it’s not seriously damaged under that bandage.’

  Andrew shoved his hand towards Gabriel and clenched it into a fist before opening
it up and wiggling his fingers. It hurt like hell, but he’d be damned if he’d let his brother know.

  ‘When was the last time you went and visited a friend?’ Gabriel asked, pushing his chair away from his desk.

  ‘I went with Hart to the races not long ago.’

  ‘I meant with someone removed from what we do—outside London.’

  ‘Why would anyone want to go outside London? There is more to do here than anywhere else in the world.’

  ‘There are times it’s important to disengage from our work and give your mind and your nerves time to settle. You’ll be more effective for it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know what to do.’

  ‘Isn’t there someone you’d like to see that you haven’t because you have not had the time?’

  Andrew dropped his head back and stared at the coffered ceiling in Gabriel’s study, trying to think of anyone whose company he enjoyed enough to leave London. ‘Toby Knightly and I still write to one another. Do you remember him from Cambridge?’

  Gabriel nodded. ‘Did you not share a room together?’

  ‘We did. He’s an out and outer and has been after me to visit him in Cheshire.’

  ‘Then go to Cheshire.’

  A sly smile lifted Andrews lips. ‘You know there has been unrest in the north.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But you are not going there because of the unrest. You are going there because you need rest and visiting with Toby will be enjoyable.’

  ‘How do you know it will be enjoyable?’

  ‘Hell, man, just go!’

  ‘You will not give me another mission until I take my Grand Tour of the English countryside?’ he asked with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

  ‘No, not until I am certain you are well rested.’

  ‘Then you are leaving me no choice.’

  ‘I’m not. I am relieving you of all duties here for a month.’