Three Weddings and a Murder (12 page)

When he saw Eliza, the man doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees. “Don’t.”

She bent her head and studied the crazed stranger. The recent news of Napoleon’s surrender in France had taught her to hope, despite all her best intentions not to. That dark hair and raspy voice made her heart flutter. It had been almost a year, but this man almost looked like…even sounded like…

“Harry?”

“Don’t.” He sucked in a breath and pleaded with the carpeting. “Marry. Don’t. Eliza.”

Harry.

“Oh my goodness.” She went to his side. “Harry, what is it? Do you need a doctor? Are you having some sort of attack?”

He shook his head. He put a hand to the wall for support, and his breathing slowed a bit.

“Ran,” he said. “Ran all the way from your house in Grosvenor Square.” He finally managed to stand tall. His gaze swept over her hair and gown. “What the devil are you doing?”

Eliza shrugged and lifted the bouquet in her hands. “I’m—”

He plucked the flowers from her grasp and heaved them against the wall. Petals exploded in silent bursts, like muted, fragrant fireworks.

“That was unnecessary,” she said.

“I disagree. I think it was imperative.” His eyes flashed with anger and hurt. “This is a wedding. What happened to, ‘I’ll wait for you, Harry’?”

“What happened to, ‘Don’t wait for me, Eliza’?” She stared at him, wide-eyed with amazement. “You told me you’d never marry me. You said we had no future.”

“Yes, but you weren’t supposed to
believe
me. In all the years of our acquaintance, when have I ever given you cause to believe a word I say?”

Eliza raised a hand to her mouth and quietly laughed behind it. She couldn’t help it. He was so adorably confounded, with his jaw defiantly set and his brow scrunched up in anger.

And he was
here
—alive and whole, if a little leaner. The red uniform wore so well on him, delineating his strong shoulders and setting off his brilliant green eyes. His roguishly handsome face was brown from the sun, and a few new wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t shaved.

Darling man. How I’ve missed you.

“Harry, please. Let me explain.”

“I’m a fool. That’s all the explanation I need.” He paced away, pushing a hand through his chronically disheveled hair. “I should have asked for your hand before I left. But I stupidly wanted you to enjoy yourself while I was away. To live life, as much as your circumstances allowed it. To go dancing and driving and be courted by a score of listless gentlemen, none of whom could compare to me. You were supposed to have your fun flirting and grow bored of it.”

“I did grow bored of it. Almost as soon as it began.”

“I suppose that’s why you’re here, then.” He stopped next to the sanctuary entrance. “Who is he, anyway?” With exaggerated caution, he turned his neck and peered around the doorjamb. “Oh, no. Not Merrivale. The man’s decrepit. Forty, if he’s a day. You thought
me
too old.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps I’ve grown to appreciate maturity in a gentleman.”

“I hope you don’t want children, because I’ve heard the man’s equipment is—”

She shook her head. “You can’t play that trick on me twice. After Peter Everhart, I’m wise to your games.”

He glared down the aisle again. “He can’t possibly be the husband you deserve.”

“Colonel Merrivale is a good man.”

“Yes, that’s just it. You’re as vivacious and sparkling and intoxicating as champagne, and he’s…he’s barley water. He’s
boring
.”

“I wish you’d stop speaking ill of him.”

His green eyes met hers, direct and open. “Do you love him?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “No, Harry. I don’t. I could never love any man but you.”

He approached and placed his hands on her shoulders. As he caressed her bare skin, his thumb trembled.

That same tremor affected his husky voice. “Eliza.”

“I love you, Harry.” Her heart shivered with joy. It felt so good to say aloud. “I’ve loved you for the longest time.”

His hands slid to her face. “I loved you first.”

“You did not.”

“I did. I adored you that very first night in the morning room.”

A broad smile stretched her cheeks, and his thumbs found her dimples. “Oh, really. Was it my tigress growl or my late-blooming bosoms?”

“It was the snails.”

“The snails?”

“You said something about Sir Roland mating slower than a snail. And that you’d watched. I thought to myself, any girl who makes the effort to observe snails mating is a girl I want to know.” He seized her hand. “You know why I couldn’t allow Brentley to marry Philippa. But do you never wonder why I encouraged Everhart to pursue her instead?”

She lifted her shoulders. “I assumed you did it simply to vex me.”

“Well, that was an ancillary benefit. I don’t deny it. But chiefly, I had other motives in mind.”

“What were they?”

“I wanted Philippa out of your way. And Peter Everhart out of mine. I didn’t expect you truly loved him, but I wasn’t taking any chances.” He winced a little. “Can you imagine, Eliza—I even scraped together what coin I had and made a pledge to the Ceylonese Mission Society. Just to ensure whey-faced Timothy didn’t return all tanned and brawny and ready to grope you properly.”

She laughed. “Oh, Harry.”

“But I knew you’d never rest until you had that debut. And I wanted you to have it. After we met at Alice’s christening, I decided to give you six weeks—perhaps four—to grow tired of balls and beaux and flirting, and then I’d cut in. But after that damned business with Lessing, I knew it was useless. Your sister needed you. It would be months before I could court you, if not years. I didn’t know how to bear it, except to launch myself into some bloody, violent endeavor that would occupy me body, mind, and soul. And I thought…perhaps I’d come out of it a better man. The sort of man you deserve.”

She touched his ruffled hair. “But I fell in love with the scoundrel.”

“Eliza.” He pulled her into a close, dangerous embrace. Silk bunched between their bodies.

“My gown…”

“Damn the gown.” He yanked her closer, fisting his hands in the crumpling fabric. “Curse this ceremony. Merrivale can go to the devil. You’re coming away with me. Right now.”

“But I couldn’t,” she protested. “Everything’s arranged. They’re all waiting on me.”

“My phaeton’s still at the mews. We’ll head north immediately and be wed in Scotland. I’ll even let you drive, from time to time. It will be the first of our many adventures.”

“I like the thought of adventure.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled away just enough to look him in the eye. “But I don’t want to elope. Ever since I was a girl, I always dreamed of a grand church wedding. I’ve already missed my debut. I can’t give up that, too.”

His expression was wounded. “I can’t believe it. You’d choose the wedding of your dreams over the man you love?”

She smiled. “No, no. I want the wedding of my dreams
to
the man I love. I keep trying to explain to you, this isn’t what you think. Harry, I’m not—”

“Eliza?” A light voice floated from the adjoining room. “Is something wrong? I thought you were bringing my flowers.”

“I
was,
dear,” Eliza called in a loud, clear voice, holding Harry’s gaze all the while. “I was bringing you
your
flowers, for
your
wedding to Colonel Merrivale.” She gave Harry a sly wink. “But Mr. Wright must explain what happened to them.”

She probably shouldn’t have taken so much satisfaction in watching Harry’s face go from determined to absolutely blank. But he’d gotten the better of her so many times. Turning the tables this once was immensely satisfying.

“This isn’t your wedding?” he asked slowly, looking about the church with new eyes, as though he’d just awoken in a strange location and had no idea how he’d landed there.

“No. This isn’t my wedding.”

“When I stopped by your town house and asked for you, they told me everyone had gone to the church for Miss Cade’s—”

“Miss Cade’s wedding. And so we did, yes. Georgie is the eldest unmarried sister. She’s still Miss Cade, and I’m still Miss Eliza. For the next quarter hour, that is.”

“Georgina?” He glanced toward the anteroom. “That’s her in there? I thought she was brokenhearted after her beau died. Resolved to never love again.”

“She was, the poor thing. But time did its part in helping heal her wounds. Colonel Merrivale’s kind attention was a balm, as well. He’s a good man, Harry. Very steady and kind, and that’s what she needs now. I’m so happy for her. And I’m…” Happy was too weak a word. “…overjoyed to see you here. Home safe. Won’t you kiss me, please?”

“Gladly.”

He pulled her into a kiss that started out tender, but quickly became urgent. Their lips and tongues reveled in the joy of reacquaintance. Desire swelled between their bodies; she felt it settling to a tense, familiar ache in her breasts and between her thighs. Images of their night together flashed vivid in her memory. She recalled every taste, every touch, every heated glance and word.

His hoarse groan told her he remembered, too.

“Marry me today,” he said. “We can secure a license in a trice and have a double wedding. Surely your sister won’t object to a small delay while we—”

Eliza shook her head. “I would object. This is Georgie’s wedding, Georgie’s day. I want her to have that. And enough of my selfish younger self remains that I want to have that, too—a wedding day just for us, even if it’s not so lavish.”

“Why couldn’t our wedding be lavish?”

“Because you’re penniless, of course.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she shushed him with a quick, tender kiss. “I don’t mind, Harry. Truly, I don’t. I’ve come a long way from a young girl who wanted new gowns for every day of the week and a carriage drawn by four white ponies.”

“I don’t know about the ponies, but I believe I can manage a new gown or two. I’m certainly not penniless.”

“Did you reconcile with the duke?” She scanned his expression, trying not to show her irrational hopes on her face. She knew it would mean so much to him if his public reputation could be restored.

“Not reconciled, precisely. He purchased me a commission. It’s a ceremonial office, mostly—diplomacy, not combat. Apparently it galled the old duke to think of his heir serving as a lowly enlisted soldier.”

“Or perhaps he
cares
about you, Harry. You know—in a disapproving, distant, duke-ish way.” Eliza threw her arms about his neck and hugged him tight. “I’m so relieved for you.”

“Don’t get too excited. The income will be enough to support us, but it won’t be an extravagant lifestyle.”

“I don’t need extravagance.”

“Good. A modest house in Town is likely all we can manage. No grand tour of the Continent or palatial country estate just yet. But I can promise you a new frock twice a year, and we’ll be able to give the children meat on Sundays.”

She gave his shoulder a light punch. “Stop joking.”

“I’m not joking. I’m very serious about the children part. And we’d best start soon. I’m not getting any younger.”

She blinked back a tear. “I’d reconciled myself to a lifetime as the maiden aunt. If you didn’t want me when you returned, or…” Her voice failed. She swallowed a painful lump and tried again. “Or if you didn’t return at all.”

She dropped her gaze to his mussed neckcloth, unable to look him in the eye for a moment. Soon she would walk down the aisle with Georgie. This wasn’t the time to dissolve into tears.

Tying his cravat made the ideal diversion. She took her time smoothing every fold and sharpening every crease. When she’d finished, she sniffed and tried to smile. “There now. All better.”

“Eliza.” Devotion simmered in his gaze. “I’ll never leave you again.”

He tightened his arms, plucked her off her feet, and twirled her in a circle. She landed dizzied by her short flight and absolutely muddled with love for him.

He teased her lips with gentle kisses. “I’ll wait to marry you. But I won’t wait long. I’ve been waiting years already.”

Eliza understood, with all her heart. She’d been waiting years, too.

“I told you I wanted a wedding day of my own.” She caressed his cheek. “But that doesn’t have to mean a long wait. I believe it’s a different day tomorrow.”

His lips quirked in that devilish way. “So it is, my dear. So it is.”

Tessa Dare is a part-time librarian, full-time mommy, and swing-shift author of historical romance. She makes her home in Southern California, where she shares a cozy, cluttered bungalow with her husband, their two children and a big brown dog.

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A Lady by Midnight,
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