The Wedding Season (12 page)

P
hilip could hear the waver in his own voice and could barely control his trembling arm as he held up the condemning contract. It was no small thing, even a dangerous enterprise, to thwart the plans of an aristocrat as powerful as Lord Bennington. Yet honor demanded that Philip must attempt it.

The moment he spoke—shouted, actually—the couple before the altar turned. Philip felt a surge of satisfaction when Whitson went pale and his jaw dropped. But the horror and fear in the bride’s plain face stung Philip’s heart just as his sister’s tears had done when she learned of her fiancé’s treachery. Every person in the rows ahead of Philip turned to stare or gape or glare at him.

“How dare you?” The short, portly, gray-haired man standing beside the bride, no doubt Lord Bennington, sent Philip a haughty glower that should have flattened him. “What’s this all about?” What he lacked in stature, he made up for with his commanding voice and presence.

At least he didn’t dismiss Philip out of hand. Nor did the youthful minister, who closed his prayer book and watched the proceedings with a troubled frown.

“Sir.” Philip gulped down his anger and nervousness. “I have here a signed marriage contract between one Gregory Whitson of Surrey and myself on behalf of my sister, Miss Lucy Lindsey of Gloucestershire.”

Her mouth agape, the bride nonetheless stared up at Whitson with confusion. “Mr. Whitson?” Her voice shook.

Philip took some satisfaction that she, too, didn’t immediately dismiss his claim.

Whitson tugged at his ruffled collar but didn’t look at Philip. Instead, he bent down and whispered something to Lord Bennington. The earl stiffened, shot another glare at Philip, then gave the bride a softer gaze and squeezed her hand. The gesture imparted an odd reassurance to Philip. The man loved his daughter and would see to the matter. Just as Bennington was known for his arrogance, he also had a reputation for honesty and integrity.

“My lord.” The brown-haired minister appeared concerned, but didn’t cower before the earl. “Shall we adjourn to the sacristy?”

Bennington replied with a curt nod, gave Philip a brusque summoning gesture with a bejeweled hand and ushered his now-tearful daughter toward the side door.

Philip could only partly attribute the buzzing in his ears to the murmuring congregation. Nerves tight with anxiety, he moved into the aisle, glancing briefly at three look-alike sisters in the third row on the other side. No, not look-alike. One blonde miss openly sneered at him while the other two sent more kindly gazes his way. The young lady in the middle, whose face was a model of perfection, gave him the tiniest nod. He couldn’t guess what it meant. Perhaps nothing at all. Perhaps his nerves were playing tricks on him.

One thing that played no trick on his senses was the image in the window above the altar. With morning sun shining
through the stained glass, the likeness of Christ the Good Shepherd glowed as a symbol of Truth, and Philip’s quivering heart quieted. God had sent him on this mission of honor, and He would see it through to the end. With that assurance, Philip straightened his shoulders and strode toward the front of the sanctuary for the imminent confrontation.

Like Daniel marching into the lion’s den.

“Well, of all the ridiculous things.” Di waved her lace fan languidly. “Poor Sophie.” Her amused tone suggested anything but sympathy for her elder sister.

“Di, how can you be so cruel?” Elizabeth shuddered, not knowing where to place her own emotions. While she loved Sophie and wished her happy, the young man had displayed great sincerity during his protest. But then, Mr. Whitson also presented a sincere demeanor. Whom could one believe? With everyone in the room all aflutter, Elizabeth could tell others were asking the same question.

“We must pray for them.” Pru did not wait for agreement but bowed her head and mouthed her petition.

Elizabeth followed her example, beseeching the Lord on behalf of all concerned. At a touch on her hand, she looked up to see Papa reaching over the back of his pew. His troubled gaze told her exactly what he was thinking. Unlike the rest of the family, he’d not cared much for Mr. Whitson. As a former captain in His Majesty’s Royal Navy, Papa never failed to correctly determine a man’s character. But Uncle Bennington never denied any of his eight children their whims and desires, and so the engagement had proceeded.

The door opened, and Mr. Smythe-Wyndham beckoned to Papa. Papa traded a look with Mama, then rose and exited the sanctuary. Elizabeth found it significant that Uncle Bennington was seeking Papa’s counsel.

Aunt Bennington had been fanning herself furiously for some time. Now she stood and followed Papa from the room. Returning within minutes, she appeared to have regained her composure. Always the perfect hostess, she gazed around the sanctuary and tapped her folded fan on her opposite hand. A hush fell over the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am certain this will all be resolved soon. In the meantime, I should like to invite you to our…hmm, what shall I call it? Not our
wedding
breakfast.” She faltered briefly.

Elizabeth heard Di gasp beside her. Aunt Bennington never faltered.

“To breakfast.” Aunt’s voice had regained its strength. “Mustn’t waste all that fine food. You cannot imagine how busy the cook has been these past weeks.” She beckoned to her eldest son George, Viscount Bampton, who hastened to offer his arm. Then, pointing her fan toward the back of the church, she strode down the aisle, head held high. “Shall we go?”

In order of precedence, the viscountess followed on a brother-in-law’s arm, then the other brothers and sisters and their spouses. After them, Elizabeth’s family filed out. Although Di belonged with her sisters, in these country settings, she always begged permission to be with Elizabeth and Pru. Among her sisters, she held the least rank. Among her cousins, she was first.

As Elizabeth awaited her turn, she saw Uncle Bennington and Papa return, along with Sophia, Mr. Whitson and Mr…. was it Lindsey? Sophie’s eyes were red, but she still clung to Mr. Whitson’s arm. The departing guests made way for them to leave the church. Mr. Lindsey, however, hung back and sagged into an empty pew. No one spoke to him. In fact,
he might have had the plague for the way people cleared the area around him.

Elizabeth’s heart ached when she saw him kneel in the pew, his shoulders slumped forward as if in defeat. He must have received a verbal beating from Uncle Bennington. But Uncle did not recall the guests so that the wedding might proceed, and the vicar did not reemerge from the sacristy. There must be some validity to the man’s claim.

With Di and Pru tugging on her arms, Elizabeth cast one last glance at the handsome,
brave
young man before she took her place in the line of departing guests. A twinge of guilt struck her as she realized she would far rather meet him than attend Aunt Bennington’s breakfast.

P
hilip finished his prayer and sat back in the pew, wondering where he would find the energy to ride down to Southampton to take a room. He’d ridden hard for five days to get here, and his horse needed tending. But at least he’d achieved his purpose. Lord Bennington had declared he would summon his solicitors to examine the marriage contract Philip had presented to him. Whitson wouldn’t get away with taking Lucy’s ten thousand pound dowry and using it to court an earl’s daughter.

At the thought, an unpleasant sensation began to rise from Philip’s stomach to his throat, and he swallowed hard. He hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning but pushed his poor horse at top speed after a short night’s rest in an inn. He shuddered to think of how matters would have been complicated had the wedding been completed. As it was, he planned to fully prosecute Whitson for his treachery.

Philip gazed at the comforting image in the window over the altar, knowing it held no power but was merely a reminder of God’s mercy. Still, he couldn’t deny that the reminder had given him confidence to face a powerful earl and his influential brother. But with the confrontation over, weariness was closing in.

Now his stomach rumbled in earnest. Before he could stand, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he looked up into the lined face and icy blue eyes of Captain Thomas Moberly. The gentleman’s black hair was shot through with silver, giving him a distinguished look that surpassed his titled brother’s appearance.

“Hungry?” The captain gave him a quirked smile inviting…friendship?

Philip coughed out a laugh as he rose to his feet. “I hardly think Lady Bennington wants me to join the party for breakfast.”

The captain shrugged. “Probably not. But you are welcome to stay in my home until this matter is settled. Bennington’s solicitors should be here in a few days.”

Philip stepped back and bumped into the pew. “Do you mean it, sir?” He felt like a schoolboy invited into a secret society.

The captain’s gaze narrowed. “I never lightly offer my hospitality.” His voice held a warning edge, and Philip could imagine many a midshipman cowering before the man.

“N-no, sir.” Philip wanted to salute, but he’d never been in the navy, so the gesture would look ridiculous. “Thank you. I accept.”

The captain tilted his head toward the door. “Come along, then. You have a horse?” The man’s light tone encouraged Philip.

“Yes, sir. I’ve ridden fairly hard these past days, switching out horses at inns along the way.”

“Ah. Then you can ride in the carriage with my family, and my groom will see to the beast.”

Outside the picturesque stone church, Captain Moberly presented Philip to his pretty American wife, his lovely daughter Miss Elizabeth and his equally appealing niece Miss Prudence. Philip settled into the landau across from
the three ladies and beside the captain, hoping he wouldn’t have to make conversation. After all, what could he say to this family whose peace he’d just shattered?

Good manners dictated that Elizabeth pay attention to their guest, and in truth she had no difficulty doing so. Before Di had been swept away by her mother, she had whispered that Mr. Lindsey seemed dreadfully common, but Elizabeth disagreed in the extreme with that assessment. His conduct was unreservedly proper, even charming, if one could call shyness in a gentleman charming. She felt her own measure of shyness as he tried to give Mama his full attention, but his gaze kept returning to her. And she had difficulty restraining herself from sneaking glances at his handsome though unshaven face.

No, no. She must not do this. She must not encourage his glances. Must guard her heart, must not squander it on an untitled gentleman, however nice he might be.

“Tell us of Gloucestershire, Mr. Lindsey.” Mama always mispronounced such county names, insisting upon including every syllable, as Americans were wont to do.

Mr. Lindsey seemed not to notice. “It is quite beautiful, ma’am. We have a fine cathedral and many charming parish churches. The River Severn runs past our land, and we’ve a view of the Cotswolds to the east, with the Forest of Dean and the Malvern Hills on the north.”

Elizabeth hid a smile at his rote recitation, which revealed his nervousness as nothing else could.

“We’ve a busy seaport, and our main export is wool.” He clamped his lips shut, and his eyes grew round, as if he thought he’d spoken too much.

Mama hummed with interest. “What a lovely, concise tour you’ve given us. Just the right information to inspire my interest in traveling there.”

Mr. Lindsey’s charming grin beamed his gratitude for Mama’s graciousness. But then his expression grew serious, and he looked across the landscape thoughtfully.

Papa caught Elizabeth’s gaze and tilted his head toward their guest. She knew what he wanted. At home she always quizzed their guests and showed great curiosity about their homes, especially if they were from London. But she did not wish to know about Gloucestershire, for it was in the opposite direction from London and far too provincial to capture her interest. Nor did she wish to know more about this courageous man, despite the fact that he had risked much for his sister’s sake.

She sent Papa a tiny frown, but he narrowed his eyes, giving her a steely, warning look. His “captain look,” as she and her brothers and sisters called it. She huffed out a quiet sigh and searched for a suitable question to ask their guest.

“Tell us about your sister, Mr. Lindsey.”

The gentleman’s troubled gaze returned to her, and he smiled. “I fear I am the wrong man to ask, for I can speak of her only in superlatives.”

Elizabeth’s heart tried to do a merry country dance over his delightful comment, but she silenced the music. “Humph. You speak very prettily about her. You should give lessons to my three brothers, for they insist I am still the pest they
claim
I was in childhood.”

The gentleman laughed, and his blue eyes twinkled. “Miss Elizabeth, I’d be happy to school your brothers in how fortunate they are to have such a charming sister.”

Her gaze strayed to Papa, whose eyes now were lit with merriment, his “I told you so” look.

But Elizabeth could think only of how dangerous this man was…to her heart.

P
hilip forced his eyes away from the young miss whose merry glances at her father suggested a warm relationship between them. Unless Philip was mistaken, that bode well for his mission. He had limited experience outside of Gloucestershire, but the calm spirit he observed in this family gave him hope. He raised a silent prayer of thanks for God’s provision in sending him a supporter in Captain Moberly, although he mustn’t assume anything.

He risked another look at the two young ladies. They were equally pretty, each in her own way. Both possessed thick golden curls and lively blue eyes, but the configuration of their countenances varied slightly in nose and chin and cheekbones. A small dimple graced Miss Elizabeth’s left cheek near her lips when she smiled. A natural beauty mark kissed Miss Prudence’s right cheek near her eye. Given a choice, a man would have difficulty deciding which young lady was the more beautiful.

What was he thinking? He hadn’t come here to admire the local females.

An unnerving suspicion crept into his mind. Surely the captain didn’t plan to divert Philip from his quest for justice
by this offer of hospitality.
Surely
Moberly and Bennington hadn’t found time to conspire against him in those few moments outside the church.

No, he must not think this way. His mind was too scattered by this matter and the two other distressing situations at home.

Lord, these are large burdens for my inexperienced shoulders. Please give me wisdom.
As before, the answer seemed to be
Trust Me and deal with one problem at a time.

“Ah, here we are.” Captain Moberly stared off to the right. “I never tire of the view when we come home to Devon Hall.”

Philip followed his gaze. Across a vast green lawn planted with numerous flowerbeds stood a magnificent three-story house, its gray stone Palladian architecture sparkling in the sunshine. A long, tree-lined drive shot from the main road directly to the front door, and soon the carriage reached its destination.

Servants poured from the house, along with more dogs and children than Philip could count. He managed to follow the captain from the carriage and lend his hand to the young ladies without mishap while the captain assisted his wife. Philip then stood back to await instructions from his host…and to observe the chaos.

While the spaniels barked and jumped, two tiny boys clung to the captain’s legs and begged to be picked up, and a pretty miss of perhaps six years attached herself to Mrs. Moberly. A dark-haired young lady emerged, followed by a shy girl of perhaps ten or twelve.

As he attempted to sort it out—somewhat—Philip could barely keep from laughing at the merry madness. The captain and his wife employed no such restraint, for both doled out generous kisses and hugs and laughter, making certain
no child was missed. One would think they’d been separated from their grandchildren for a month instead of just a few hours. And the young ladies participated in the melee with equal enthusiasm.

“Belay that!” The captain’s laughing voice boomed above the bedlam.

Everyone stopped. The children giggled.

“Mr. Lindsey.” Moberly beckoned to Philip.

Philip stepped through the crowd. “Yes, sir?”

The captain proceeded to make introductions and explanations. He and Mrs. Moberly had six children, three of whom were married, and these were a few of the grandchildren, staying here while their parents traveled. The dark-haired lady was the governess. Philip noticed with admiration that the captain announced each child’s name as if he or she had just won the derby. Philip had never met anyone who introduced his small children to guests. Other families kept them in the nursery and schoolroom until they were presented to society.

Surely such a warm-hearted family man could be trusted to do the right thing, even for a stranger.

Elizabeth watched their guest with interest. He had not appeared the slightest discomfited by the children or the dogs. An admirable trait, to be sure. Few young men who had courted her older sisters had looked as comfortable amidst the Moberly mayhem.

The children were sent back to the nursery, Papa ordered his valet to assist Mr. Lindsey and Mama instructed Cook to prepare a breakfast. With everything completed, the adults gathered in the drawing room.

Mr. Lindsey’s former calm now disappeared as he sat for
ward and clasped the carved oak arms of his chair, and his dark eyebrows bent into a frown.

“Miss Prudence, Miss Elizabeth, it just occurred to me. I am the cause of your missing Lady Bennington’s breakfast.” His sincere tone underscored the sorrow written in his eyes.

Elizabeth traded a look with Pru. “Never mind, Mr. Lindsey. We see our cousins all the time.”

“And there will be other parties this summer,” Pru added.

Papa sent an approving nod their way. “Indeed. The roads are deeply rutted between here and Bennington Manor.”

It seemed to Elizabeth that Mr. Lindsey’s sun-browned cheeks deepened in color, but with the morning light streaming through the windows in his direction, she could not be certain. She did observe that his anxious expression softened.

“You are most kind, ladies, Captain Moberly.” He relaxed into his chair. Almost slumped, in fact. How tired he must be.

Breakfast was announced, and they proceeded to the morning room and helped themselves from the buffet.

Elizabeth’s mouth watered at the mingled aromas of coffee, eggs, sausages and fresh bread. Seated across from Mr. Lindsey, she noted his flawless manners, as fine as any she had observed among her titled relatives and their guests. Papa’s valet must have shaved him, for his black stubble had disappeared.

Once again, she noticed his well-made clothing, but also the calluses on his hands. Not too conspicuous, just enough to show he performed some sort of work. But then, Papa and her brothers also had calluses because Papa insisted they must make themselves useful around the property. So it was
not necessarily a sign he wasn’t a true gentleman. And his hair, now combed, appeared recently trimmed.

Oh, stop it!

Such musings were ridiculous. She really must cease thinking about him. Once the matter with Mr. Whitson was settled, Mr. Lindsey would return home to Gloucestershire. Which, she reminded herself, lay in the opposite direction from London, where she fully intended to go next spring. Papa might not see any value in his daughters having a Season, but where else could she find a titled husband? Rare was the occasion when an unattached peer of the Realm visited their neighborhood.

As she frequently did, Elizabeth rehearsed the reasons for her quest. Children born into the aristocracy were sheltered from many of life’s troubles. They received the best education and had access to the best physicians when they were ill. Titled men sat in Parliament and made important decisions affecting the entire world, even history itself. Their wives owned the responsibility of supporting charitable institutions, as her step-grandmama, the late Dowager Lady Bennington, had so generously done. With a titled husband, Elizabeth would be able to provide for her children and benefit her country. Surely no one could find fault in her reasoning.

Then why did she feel so drawn to Mr. Lindsey, who could give her none of those things?
No.
She tore her traitorous gaze from him once more. She
must
resolve to wed only a peer. But she had a feeling she would have to post a heavy guard around her heart while in the gentleman’s presence. Her future—and that of any children she might have—depended upon it.