Settle in for a wicked romp in this captivating installment of The Lady Travelers Society series by New York Times bestselling author Victoria Alexander

The family of the bride is expected to revel in the joy of the upcoming wedding. Instead, Miss Celia Bromley faces the most heartbreaking dilemma of her life: she’s fallen in love with the man engaged to marry her scheming half sister. Worse, he might love Celia in return. But handsome, bookish Henry Saunders is a man of honor. He would never break his promise to his bride-to-be, no matter how horrid she may be.

Celia’s despair hasn’t escaped the notice of keen-eyed Aunt Guinevere, who, along with her crafty friends, is determined to see true love triumph. Unraveling a wedding takes a delicate, subtle touch, and in the mad dash to break one engagement and encourage another, the ladies may well hear the whispers of scandal instead of the peal of wedding bells...

The Proper Way to Stop a Wedding (in Seven Days or Less)

Victoria Alexander

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

#1 New York Times bestselling author VICTORIA ALEXANDER was an award-winning television reporter until she discovered fiction was much more fun than real life. Since the publication of her first book in 1995, she’s written more than forty full-length novels that have been translated around the world. Victoria lives in Omaha, Nebraska, with a long-suffering husband she kills off in every book and two bearded collies in a house under constant renovation and never-ending chaos. She laughs a great deal—she has to. Check out her books at www.victoriaalexander.com, and chat with her on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/victoriaalexandersplace.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

About the Author

The Beginning

Day One

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

Day Two

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

Day Three

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

Day Four

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Day Five

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Day Six

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Copyright

Miss Celia Bromley refused to ruin her half sister Katherine’s wedding.

Even if Celia did not especially like Katherine.

Even if Katherine detested Celia.

Even if Celia had fallen madly, irrevocably, hopelessly in love with Katherine’s groom.

CHAPTER ONE

Danby Manor, May 1855

“ARE THERE ANY QUESTIONS?” Guinevere Blodgett beamed at her dearest friends in the world. Friends who had set aside everything in their own lives to come to Danby Manor at her request. But then wasn’t that what friends were for?

Mrs. Ophelia Higginbotham and Mrs. Persephone Fitzhew-Wellmore—Effie and Poppy to those who knew them best—traded glances.

“Clarification more than questions,” Effie began. “Apparently, you have sent for us so that we may help you in the preparations for the wedding that is to occur in one week’s time. A wedding that really has nothing to do with you as it’s the wedding of your niece’s half sister to an earl’s brother.”

“And you have been, oh, lured into assisting,” Poppy continued.

“Exactly.” Gwen blew a long breath. “It wasn’t by choice, believe me.” She had arrived at Danby Manor two days ago and realized at once someone needed to take things in hand. And as the bride’s father—and then the groom’s brother upon her arrival—had asked her to do so, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. There was entirely too much at stake. “You are both well aware that since my sister died, I have not been as close to Celia as I would have liked.”

“Because of that beast of a father of hers.” Effie sniffed. “And that woman.”

“As much as I would like to blame them fully, much of the fault lies with me.” Gwen twisted her hands together and paced absently. “I should have taken steps to ensure I saw Celia more frequently but they have always lived in the country and my life is in London. And Celia was usually away at school. But we do correspond regularly...” Gwen cringed, well aware of how feeble her excuse sounded. As indeed it was.

Gwen’s sister, Viviane, had married Alfred, Viscount Bromley, a widower with two young daughters—Katherine and Louise. Viviane had promptly given him Celia but had unfortunately succumbed to influenza some twelve years later, leaving the household in the hands of Miss Frances Quince, Alfred’s first wife’s sister—also known as that woman. She had immediately taken up residence, assumed the position of mistress of the house and had sent all three girls away to school, no doubt in the hope that should the legal prohibition to marrying the sister of one’s deceased wife someday be abolished she would be in an excellent position. From what Gwen had ascertained through the years, Miss Quince was inordinately ambitious and wanted nothing more than to be the next viscountess. The older girls blamed their banishment on their half sister. Katherine and Louise had never considered Celia their true sister. A belief no doubt encouraged by Miss Quince.

“You’re not being at all fair to yourself,” Poppy said firmly. “We have watched you time and again try to see Celia only to be rebuffed by her father and that woman. And you did manage to visit with her when the family was in London a few months ago.”

“Only twice. Even so, I should have tried harder.” Gwen sighed then straightened her shoulders. “Regardless, I was asked by Alfred to come here to Danby to assist in Katherine’s wedding. Apparently Miss Quince is not quite up to arranging a social event of this magnitude and is driving Alfred and his daughters mad.”

“Not that they don’t deserve it,” Effie muttered.

“I could not agree more but—” Gwen fixed Effie with a firm look “—if this wedding does not go well, it will reflect upon the entire family. I want nothing more than to see Celia married to a good man and I think it’s past time the three of us did something about that. And we shall start the moment we have put Katherine’s wedding behind us.”

“How delightful.” Poppy grinned. “I’ve always enjoyed playing matchmaker.”

“But Celia’s cause will not be helped if this wedding is a shambles. The gossip would ruin any chances she might have at a good match. Reputation, as you know, is everything.”

“Might I point out that Alfred’s excessive gambling and loss of the family’s fortunes to the point where none of his daughters had a season has already damaged that reputation beyond repair?” Effie said in a deceptively mild manner.

“Come now, half the gentry in England has exceptionally bad habits and lives on credit.” Gwen waved off the comment. “The trick is not to acknowledge that publicly. Society runs on illusion. As Katherine is to marry the twin brother of the Earl of Danby, the guest list is extensive and socially prominent.”

“No surprise there,” Effie murmured.

“If this wedding is a disaster, I dare not think what the repercussions for Celia’s future will be.” Gwen shuddered. “The groom’s mother died several years ago, so apparently I am the closest female relation on either side. Except for Miss Quince, of course, who does seem unable to manage this.”

Gwen had realized very nearly the moment she arrived that the social events Miss Quince and Katherine had planned leading up to the wedding, as well as the nuptials themselves, were both extravagant and complex. But then the groom’s brother was paying for it all. While Miss Quince had said no expense would be spared, Gwen suspected the earl was a bit less than thrilled at the expenditures even if he did seem to care too much for his brother to protest. At least thus far.

“Well, we are here now.” Effie offered a feeble smile. “And it’s not as if we had anything better to do.”

A not uncommon occurrence, as the husbands of all three women were currently out of the country. Charles Blodgett and Malcomb Fitzhew-Wellmore were both engaged in pursuits of exploration, and Effie’s husband, William, was a military officer currently in the Crimea. Gwen and Poppy considered it their duty as her friends to keep Effie’s mind off the war as much as possible—a difficult task given the papers were full of reports of battles and men lost or wounded.

It was their husbands’ penchant for wandering the world in the name of exploration or in service to Her Majesty that had led to the three women meeting in the first place, some ten or so years ago. They were of a similar age—all three now past their forty-fifth year—none of them had been blessed with children, nor did any of them have much in the way of family, and they became as close as sisters. Indeed, they thought of themselves as such.

“I for one am delighted to lend my assistance. I love weddings.” Poppy nodded enthusiastically. “What exactly do you want us to do?”

“Unfortunately, there are any number of details still to be arranged. I’m certain, between the three of us, we shall overcome any difficulties, although this is a bit more complicated than one might expect.” Gwen braced herself and favored her friends with a confident smile. “In addition to the wedding itself—which I understand is more restrained than the bride had originally wanted at the request of the groom—there is to be a rather grand pre-wedding ball.”

Goodness, one would have thought Gwen had tossed a bucket of cold water over her friends’ heads given the disbelieving looks on their faces. Perhaps it was best to continue before either Effie or Poppy or both called for a carriage for the lengthy ride back to the nearest train station.

“However—”

“Oh, good, there’s a however,” Effie said wryly. “I was afraid there wouldn’t be.”

“Aside from ourselves and family members, there are no other guests staying here at the manor, which will make things much easier,” Gwen began.

“Will it?” Poppy asked faintly.

Gwen ignored her. “While the staff seems adequately trained, they appear to have taken a rather strong dislike to Miss Quince.”

Effie snorted.

“Only the earl and his brother, Henry, inhabit the house and then only when they’re not residing in London, which apparently they do most of the year,” Gwen said. ”This is a bachelor establishment, ladies. So it’s obvious why our help is so desperately needed.”

“To be expected really.” Poppy shook her head. “Men are helpless when it comes to the more practical aspects of life.”

“Hard to believe they can expertly undertake an expedition to the far corners of an unexplored jungle but they cannot manage to direct a cook to prepare toast for breakfast,” Effie added.

Gwen nodded. “There’s been no mistress at Danby since the earl’s mother died a few years ago and the staff might be a bit lax.”

“Then we had best get started.” Effie drew a bracing breath. “What exactly do you want us to do first?”

“You have both been traveling today and I know how wearing that is, so, for the moment, I want you to do nothing more than rest,” Gwen said firmly.

“To gather our strength, no doubt.” Effie’s brow furrowed. ”As we shall obviously need it.”

“I have made lists of all that must be accomplished as well as charts delegating who should do what on which day and so on and so forth. I shall distribute those at tea and we can discuss all the details then.”

“Will Miss Quince be assisting us?” Poppy asked.

“She has taken to her bed with a sick headache.” Gwen shook her head in a mournful manner and summoned up her most sympathetic expression. “Poor dear.”

“Poor dear, indeed.” Effie tried and failed to look appropriately concerned but then Effie, and Poppy as well, held Miss Quince only slightly less responsible for keeping Gwen from her niece than they did Celia’s father.

“One more thing.” Gwen hesitated. She wasn’t at all sure if she was right but something odd had struck her the first night at dinner and then again last night. It was subtle and she could very easily be wrong. “You are both intelligent women and have been known to be quite observant. Do let me know if you notice anything...unexpected.”

Once again her friends traded looks.

“What do you mean by ‘unexpected’?” Caution sounded in Effie’s voice.

“Goodness, Effie.” Gwen huffed. “If I could tell you that, it wouldn’t be at all unexpected but rather extremely expected. Don’t you think?”

Effie’s eyes narrowed.

“Besides, I want your unbiased, completely dispassionate opinion.” Gwen chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Suffice it to say, I’m not sure all is as it appears. Or perhaps as it should be. I might well be wrong. However, if I’m right...”

Effie grinned. “I do love your howevers.”

“If I’m right...” Gwen settled her gaze first on Poppy then shifted to Effie. “We shall have to take it upon ourselves to do something about it.”

CHAPTER TWO

“MRS. BLODGETT, Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore—” Edward, the Earl of Danby, stood at the head of the dinner table and raised his glass in a toast “—welcome to Danby Manor. I cannot remember the last time so many lovely guests were gathered around this table. Thank you for improving the conversation—” he grinned “—and the view.”

“Allow me to add my thanks, as well.” Henry Saunders favored the newcomers with a welcoming smile then retook his seat.

It was indeed unusual to have any guests at all at the country house and rarer still to have ladies in residence. But between Katherine, her sisters, Louise and Celia, Celia’s aunt and her aunt’s friends, the men in residence were outnumbered two to one. More, really, if one included Miss Quince, who was indisposed tonight and not at dinner. Apparently it took a flock of women to arrange a week of prenuptial events culminating in the extravaganza that would mark the joining in marriage of a man and a woman. Henry believed he might have heard doves mentioned but he preferred not to think about it. If he had his way, the ceremony would be simple and the celebration restrained.

His gaze caught his fiancée’s. Katherine was seated beside Edward at the head of the table; her sister Louise sat on his left, devoting all of her attention to Edward. Hoping to ensnare another Saunders brother, no doubt. Katherine cast him a brilliant, perfect smile and a wave of shame washed through him. Even if his thoughts about Louise were true, they were unkind. After all, she would be his sister-in-law when he married the incomparable Katherine.

Katherine Bromley might well have been the most beautiful woman Henry Saunders had ever seen. He was realistic enough about himself to understand that was why he was originally attracted to her. With her dark hair, vivid green eyes and delectable figure, she was the center of attention anywhere. When he met her, a scant three months ago, he had been most grateful none of the Bromley daughters had had an official season. Katherine would have been snatched up immediately, in spite of the family’s financial difficulties. As it was, she had reached the advanced age of twenty-four without having wed. Henry had fallen head over heels for her very nearly at first sight.

It was not at all like him. While Edward—Ned to his brother—was the older of the twin brothers, and as such the one who had inherited the title of Earl of Danby from their father, Henry was the more sensible and responsible of the two. Ned often said it was a pity he was born a few minutes sooner as Henry had the temperament and the nature to be an excellent earl. Admittedly, Ned had spent the first few years after Father’s death continuing his wild ways with little regard to the duties that had been thrust upon him, and Henry had been the one to make certain the needs of the estates and the family’s business interests were met. It wasn’t until their mother had died three years ago that Ned had finally accepted his fate. As if Mother’s death had brought home to him the full responsibilities of his position. It had come as a shock to Henry when he realized his devil-may-care brother had become—for lack of a better word—an adult. Now the brothers worked together in a congenial and productive manner that served them both well.

In spite of being twins, their appearance was as individual as their natures. In their youth, they had often bemoaned the unfairness of not being identical and able to pass for each other. While they shared similar dark hair and brown eyes, and did indeed look like brothers, Henry was a few inches taller than Ned with a slighter build, whereas the earl’s shoulders were broader, his form more solid. Both were considered above average in appearance, although Ned had always been rather dashing and exuberant, while Henry was far quieter and inclined toward pursuits of a scholarly nature.

Now, at the age of twenty-seven, both men were viewed as extremely eligible bachelors. While Henry had a significant fortune in his own right, Ned, of course, was a better catch and was hotly pursued by young ladies eager to be a countess and their equally eager mothers hoping to snag a title for their family. It was another mark of the disparity between the brothers that if anyone was asked which of the two was more likely to lose his head over a beautiful woman, Ned was the brother who came to mind, as he had indeed done so any number of times in the past.

Of course, he’d never been so stupid as to ask for their hand in marriage.

“You are a lucky man, Henry.”

“Lucky?” His attention jerked to the lady seated beside him. Mrs. Blodgett was somewhere in her forties and was quite lovely for her age. As were her friends.

“Indeed.” She nodded in Katherine’s direction. “Katherine will make a beautiful bride.”

“Oh, yes, Katherine.” He smiled. “I am most fortunate.”

It had all happened so fast. In hindsight, Henry wasn’t sure how it had happened at all. Katherine was in many ways perfect—every man’s dream come to life. And from the beginning, she was interested in him. That alone made her almost irresistible. Henry was used to being second to his brother, especially when it came to women, and he had never especially cared. But Katherine had eyes only for him.

He had been enamored of her in a lost-puppy sort of way from the moment they’d met. She had quite frankly swept him off his feet. It was as if he had been sucked into a whirlpool, an unrelenting force of nature. One moment she was gazing into his eyes and the next he’d been engaged. He had no idea what he had said but it had been heartfelt. Katherine had thought it important to wed as soon as possible, saying now that they had found each other, it would be foolish to put off starting their lives together. It had been terribly romantic and he had agreed wholeheartedly. Now it seemed absurd and ill-advised and rather stupid. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had feared he might change his mind. Indeed, by the time he’d realized what a huge mistake this was, he was well on his way to the altar.

The enormity of his error in judgment loomed over him like a forbidding cloud, made all the darker for its unfamiliarity. Henry did not make mistakes. Nor was he ever the brother in the midst of a storm.

No, Henry Saunders was the responsible one. The one who should have been born first. He’d wondered on occasion why he hadn’t as his nature was far more suited to the duties of the position of earl than his brother. But for all his acceptance of responsibility, he’d never had any desire for the title and everything it entailed. Indeed, his life was quite pleasant. He had the financial means to do as he wanted, the time to spend as he wished, satisfying work to fill his days and a staff that was as much family as employees. Someday, he expected to find a wife that would fit nicely into that life. He had certainly been with women, although he was not as accomplished in that respect as his brother. But he had only once before thought himself in love. He certainly never expected to fall in love again very nearly at first sight.

Or to fall out of love just as quickly.

“I’m afraid I don’t know her well.” Mrs. Blodgett studied Katherine. “Although she seems quite pleasant.”

“Doesn’t she, though?” Henry said without thinking then winced to himself. His comment was more telling than he had planned. Unfortunately, the more he grew to know Katherine, the less he wished to spend the rest of his life with her. He’d never been engaged before but he was fairly certain one should not think of one’s future wife as shallow, vain and selfish. Worse, while she had seemed to adore him initially, now her feelings struck him as more rehearsed than genuine.

The fact of the matter was that he and Katherine shared no common ground. There was nothing Henry enjoyed more than immersing himself in a good book. Katherine disdained literature, preferring ladies’ magazines, more for the fashion than any literary offerings. Henry preferred a quiet life with no more than a moderate number of social functions, whereas much of Katherine’s talk of the future centered around the parties and soirees and balls they would attend after their marriage. Henry enjoyed museums and galleries and was intrigued by new artists. Katherine thought history was best left in the past and her idea of fine art was something created by a prestigious artist that looked nice on a wall. Aside from preparations for the wedding, much of her time was spent with her aunt and sister Louise planning how to decorate his house in London and discussions of what kind of grand house she wished him to build in the country. Henry had never particularly thought about money—although it was nice to have—and while he’d never been especially frugal, neither did he spend with wild abandon. Katherine was freely spending his family’s money for the week’s festivities. Admittedly, it was understandable given her own family’s finances, and while Henry did not begrudge her that, he did hope this was just a momentary indulgence on her part. He feared he was wrong.

“My apologies, Mrs. Blodgett, but I’m afraid I’m confused. I would have assumed you knew Katherine, as well as the rest of the family, quite well.”

“One would assume that.” Mrs. Blodgett studied Celia sitting across the table from them, talking in an animated manner to Mrs. Higginbotham. “My sister was Celia’s mother. Unfortunately, after her death, I was not able to see my niece as often as I would have liked.”

“I gather you regret that.”

A wry smile curved her lips. “You are remarkably perceptive, Henry.”

“Some things are obvious, Mrs. Blodgett.” He smiled, his gaze following hers. “At least to me.”

Try as he might, he could not keep his thoughts off Katherine’s youngest sister. Fair-haired and petite in stature, Celia wasn’t as stunning as Katherine, but simply quite lovely in a quiet sort of way. There was something about Celia Bromley that was almost irresistible. Henry couldn’t truly describe it and was afraid to try. From the moment he’d met her, quite by accident at one of his favorite booksellers’, the moment he’d looked into her blue eyes, something inside of him had clicked like the turn of a key in a lock, as if all the puzzle pieces of his life had abruptly snapped into place. He’d had the strangest sense of recognition somewhere deep in his soul, as if they’d been destined to meet or had met before or had known each other always. The French called it coup de foudre, a bolt of lightning. Love at first sight. It was absurd of course. Only the French would give credence to such a thing. Silly, spontaneous feelings that struck without warning were certainly not to be trusted, not by a rational, sensible man.

Regardless, he’d found himself returning to the bookseller’s more frequently than was his habit in hopes of meeting her again. It was hopeless, really—he didn’t even know her name. Henry put any thought of her out of his mind and managed to convince himself whatever he had experienced was due no doubt to the onset of a cold or something he’d eaten that had disagreed with him, or simply dwelling on the incident gave it more importance than it warranted. Then he met Katherine and his life changed irrevocably. It wasn’t until he’d already asked for her hand that he was introduced to her sisters and realized the awful, glaring truth. His brief encounter was his new fiancée’s younger half sister. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been so susceptible to Katherine’s charms because somewhere deep inside he was mourning the loss of something he’d never had.

Neither of them acknowledged their previous encounter, at least not aloud. What difference did it make anyway? It was too late. He was to marry her sister and no matter what feelings Celia Bromley might stir inside him, there could be nothing between them. Still, in spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering in her direction. Couldn’t stop the odd twisting of his heart when she was near. Couldn’t prevent thoughts of her that lingered in his mind and invaded his dreams. Without warning, Celia turned her head and her gaze met his. For a moment, it was as if all the air had rushed out of the room. As always, the look in her eyes was a reflection of his own—a mix of caution and longing and resignation. Not that either of them had ever admitted such a thing. Nor would they.

“Indeed, Henry, some things are more than obvious.”

His gaze snapped back to Mrs. Blodgett and at once he realized his mistake. A truly innocent man would not have taken her casual comment as an indictment. But Mrs. Blodgett simply smiled in an innocuous manner and promptly changed the subject. “Your brother says you are quite interested in antiquities and all things ancient.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Indeed I am.”

“My husband and some of his associates have been discussing an expedition to find the lost city of Troy.”

“Really?” Henry stared. “What an extraordinary adventure that would be.”

“Charles is a most adventurous sort and the more extraordinary the better.” She smiled in an affectionate manner.

“You must miss him when he’s away on his extraordinary adventures.”

“Indeed I do but someday I shall wear down his resistance and he shall take me with him.”

“But you’re a woman.”

“How clever of you to notice, Henry.”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean—”

“No apology needed.” She waved off his comment. “Even in these modern times, the idea of a woman traveling anywhere not considered completely civilized is unthinkable. I do hope that will change one day but I am not overly optimistic. It is universally accepted that a woman’s place is to be safely left behind to tend to house and home.”

“And you disagree with that?” Caution edged his voice.

“Not entirely but even the most content among us can occasionally long for something a little more exciting. For now, I suppose we need to console ourselves with adventures of a less extraordinary nature.” She smiled. “Walking down the path of life hand in hand with the right person is something of an adventure in and of itself. When one’s heart is engaged—” she glanced down the table at Katherine “—it can be the most extraordinary adventure of all.”

“No doubt,” Henry said faintly.

It was bad enough to realize one wasn’t in love with the woman one was committed to marry, but to accept the awful growing conviction that one didn’t especially like her was much worse. But even that paled in the face of the horrible truth of the matter.

Henry Saunders had indeed found the love of his life and there was nothing he could do about it.

CHAPTER THREE

WHAT AN ABSURD SITUATION. What a ridiculous thing to have happened.

Celia Bromley paced the width of the room allotted her in Danby Manor. She wasn’t sure how it had happened—it certainly wasn’t intentional. Fate was no doubt to blame. Of course, if one believed in fate, then this was even worse as—

A knock sounded at her door.

“Come in,” she said with relief. A distraction from her own thoughts would be most welcome.

The door opened and Aunt Guinevere popped her head in. “Are you busy, Celia? Might I join you for a chat?”

“Of course, Aunt Guinevere.” She could think of nothing better to take her mind off Henry Saunders’s brown eyes and engaging smile. “Please come in.”

Aunt Guinevere stepped into the room, closed the door behind her and looked around. “My, this is lovely.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Celia smiled.

She’d never in her life had a bedchamber this nice. Of course, she’d never had one quite so large, either. No, the rooms at home at Bromwick Abbey were neither as gracious nor as beautifully appointed as those here. Danby Manor was most impressive and the abbey had seen better days. But then that was the price one paid when one’s home was more than five hundred years old, had started life as a humble monastery and had never had an owner interested in more than a modest expansion.

“No wonder Katherine and Miss Quince had insisted on arriving well in advance of the wedding,” Aunt Guinevere said, still surveying the room.

Katherine and Aunt Frances had thought it best to take up residence at Danby a full month before the wedding with the excuse that there was a great deal to be done. There was indeed but Celia was certain the lure of elegance and comfort to be found at the manor was ultimately responsible for the family’s lengthy stay.

It would have been much better for all concerned if they just sent the bride and her aunt. But of course that would never do. There were questions of propriety about two unmarried women residing in the same house with two unmarried gentlemen—no matter how grand the house. Regardless of his other failings, Father was a stickler for propriety when it came to the reputations of his daughters. Pity he hadn’t been a bit more concerned about his own reputation—especially when it came to matters of finance. But Father had never quite grasped the idea that once his inherited funds were expended, there would be no more without some sort of effort on his part. Nor did he seem to understand gambling was perhaps not the best method for acquiring an income—especially if one was not particularly skilled or lucky. Fortunately, her grandfather had recognized this flaw in his heir and had set aside funding—managed by inflexible solicitors—to provide for schooling and minimal dowries for his granddaughters as well a small, untouchable trust that provided an extremely modest yearly income. Not large enough to claim their place in society but sufficient to keep a roof over their heads.

“I am sorry I didn’t see more of you when you were in London.” Aunt Guinevere settled in one of two matching lady’s chairs positioned by the window that overlooked the back garden.

“As am I but it couldn’t be helped,” Celia said with a smile. “We were only in London for a few months and we did manage to see each other twice.” Even that had been difficult to arrange. Neither Father nor Aunt Frances had ever liked Aunt Guinevere but then Celia was fairly certain the feelings were mutual. But she and Aunt Guinevere wrote frequently and that was nearly as good as seeing one another in person.

“And did you enjoy your stay?”

“Oh, Aunt Guinevere, it was truly wonderful.” Celia leaned toward the older woman. “I went to the Tower and the Zoological Gardens, and the Society of Antiquaries museum, and Madame Tussaud’s, and Soane’s Museum and, well, everywhere. I spent a great deal of time at the National Gallery and the British Museum.”

The older woman bit back a smile. “I believe you mentioned some of that when we met in London.”

“Probably, but it’s worth repeating.” Celia grinned. “I think I could quite happily spend every day for the rest of my life going back and forth between the National Gallery and the British Museum.”

“There are worse ways to spend your life.” Aunt Guinevere smiled. “The British Museum is where I met your uncle Charles, you know. We were both attending a lecture on Etruscan artifacts.”

“I intend to live in London one day,” Celia said firmly.

That she had managed to visit London at all was something of a miracle and due entirely to Aunt Frances. Unbeknownst to anyone else in the family, Aunt Frances had received a small inheritance. She had wisely kept her windfall to herself as Father would have insisted she contribute to the family coffers given he provided a home for her. Regardless, at the beginning of the new year, Aunt Frances had decreed they would reside in London for several months in an effort to find a wealthy, well-connected husband for Katherine—who was not getting any younger—and hopefully Louise and Celia as well before all three girls became spinsters and remained their father’s responsibility for the rest of their lives. Father agreed without hesitation. The idea of three less people demanding he give up his foolish ways and do something of worth with his life was irresistible to him. And, as Frances had the money to pay for letting a London residence, it seemed an excellent plan.

Unfortunately, London society was not overly interested in sisters aged twenty-four, twenty-three and nineteen no matter how lovely or accomplished they were. Still, Aunt Frances was determined to see at least one—if not all three girls—wed and did manage a few invitations, mostly for Katherine and Louise. Katherine had done her part by meeting and enchanting the brother of an earl, who reportedly had a significant income, even if he was not her first choice. Celia had no illusions about her older sister. Katherine was almost as clever as she was mercenary. She immediately realized she did not appeal to the earl and set her sights on his brother.

“I know I would never want to live anywhere else.” Aunt Guinevere paused. “Will Katherine and Henry be living in London after they’re wed?”

“I believe so. Henry and his brother manage the family business interests and Henry has a lovely house in Mayfair.”

It was at Henry’s house that Celia had discovered the gentleman she’d had a chance conversation with at a bookstore, the man she couldn’t get out of her head, was soon to be her brother-in-law. He had already asked for Katherine’s hand and had invited the rest of the family and his brother to join him for dinner. It was an evening of revelation in any number of ways.

For one thing—Henry Saunders wasn’t at all the type one would have thought would appeal to Katherine. He was handsome in a quiet sort of way but not the kind of man one read about in novels of romance or adventure. One did not swoon with immediate passion when meeting the calm, self-possessed Mr. Henry Saunders. He was obviously intelligent and scholarly and somewhat restrained, in contrast to his brother, who was brash and amusing and worldly.

Indeed, upon one’s first meeting one might have thought Henry entirely too somber, even cold in nature. Until one gazed into his brown eyes and saw compassion and intelligence and all manner of wicked amusement. And the oddest sort of recognition. As if he saw something in her no one else had ever seen. The moment he touched her hand, the strangest sense of awareness shot through her as if she had just met her fate. It was at once terrifying and exciting and utterly hopeless.

“He seems quite pleasant.”

Celia’s gaze shot to her aunt’s. “Who?”

“Why, Henry of course. Mr. Saunders.” Aunt Guinevere’s brow arched upward. “Were we speaking of someone else?”

“No, of course not. Sorry, my mind must have wandered.” Precisely as it had done since the moment she’d met Henry. She drew a deep breath in hopes of regaining some semblance of composure. “Henry is very nice and very clever and a man of honor.”

“Not the kind of man to go back on his word, then?”

Celia shook her head. “Good Lord, no.”

No, she thought sadly, Henry Saunders was not the type to rescind an offer of marriage even if he discovered his fiancée was petty and greedy and not an especially nice person. Even if he realized he was making a horrendous mistake.

Even if the look in his eyes when his gaze met his fiancée’s younger sister’s matched the feelings in that sister’s heart.

Henry was as fine a man as Celia had ever met and deserved better than Katherine. But, although Katherine, and Louise as well, had never considered Celia anything other than a mistake on their father’s part, Celia could not bring herself to tell Henry that Katherine’s interest was more in his family’s position and his fortune than it was in him. Family, after all, deserved one’s loyalty even if members of that family had done nothing to warrant it.

“One might say a moment of dishonor,” her aunt said slowly, “might be worth avoiding a lifetime of misery.”

Celia frowned. “What do you mean?”

Aunt Guinevere reached out and took Celia’s hand. “What I mean, my dear child, is that Henry Saunders gives every appearance of a man in love.”

“Not surprising.” Celia’s stomach lurched. “He is, after all, to be married in a week.”

“Celia dear—” Aunt Guinevere paused to gather her thoughts “—I have been married for more than twenty-three years and in love for longer than that. I have learned to recognize that feeling in other people. It’s really not hard if one pays attention. But few people do. Especially not in this house. Except perhaps for the earl.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Celia lied.

“I’m talking about the way Henry looks at you and the way you look at him.”

“Oh, well, that’s really not...”

“Even Poppy and Effie noticed. We discussed it right before I came to speak to you.”

Celia started to deny it but her aunt would never believe her. “It scarcely matters.” She drew a deep breath. “Regardless of how I feel about him, of how he might feel about me...it’s pointless. Surely you see that?”

“What I see is a man about to plunge into a lifetime with a woman I suspect he doesn’t even like.” Her brows drew together. “Has Katherine always been this—Oh, I don’t know what the word is. So many come to mind.”

Celia bit back a smile. “I’m afraid so.”

“And does she usually look at you as if there was something quite vile about you?”

Celia laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

Aunt Guinevere stared as if she’d just realized—or perhaps accepted—something quite awful. “I have done you a terrible disservice.” She shook her head. “I should have rescued you from that household years ago. Between those dreadful half sisters of yours and the frightful Miss Quince—can you ever forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Celia shrugged. “I was away at school most of the time. I’ve only resided at the abbey since I graduated. And Father isn’t so bad. Although it’s not especially gratifying to realize your father is not the cleverest man in the world.”

Aunt Guinevere choked back a laugh.

“Neither Katherine nor Louise has ever liked me, which bothered me a great deal when I was young but I had Mother then.” Celia paused. It had been seven years since her mother had died but there were moments when the grief was as fresh as if it had been yesterday. “After she died, I realized it was silly to continue to try to earn their affection, and besides, I didn’t like them, either. Aunt Frances, on the other hand, was never of any concern as she has always disliked everyone equally.” Celia grinned. “Except Father of course.”

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