Wedding of the Year Read online

  He shook his head as he imagined what his brother, the noble Lord John Vernon, Marquess of Wykham, would have said about this latest escapade. Lord, he'd have to hear about his brash behavior for hours on end. No, John would never be able to understand the reason he'd pulled that blonde goddess onto the dance floor with him. Instead, his brother would look at him in bafflement.

  Hearing her sigh as she'd watched her companion step away with a dance partner, Richard had seen, felt, and heard her utter loneliness. And, hell, he knew just how lonely a person could feel, even in the most crowded of rooms. Though he'd admitted this dark secret to her, she hadn't believed him. Instead, she'd judged him and decided he was a rake. While it was true that he was considered a rake by reputation, for some odd reason he'd thought that this woman who understood what loneliness was might be able to see beneath the facade to the man inside.

  And just when he thought she'd dismissed him, she surprised him by offering him a pretty apology and accepting his offer to dance. Her shy response intrigued him, and he promised himself he'd discover her name before the night was through.

  Still smiling, he glanced around for his mother, hoping she might be able to identify the blonde beauty. Scanning the edges of the room, he was lost in the search for his mother until someone tapped him upon the shoulder.

  “You certainly seem to take pleasure in setting the dragons atwitter. Whatever have you done now?”

  The amused observation came from his elder brother, John. Grinning broadly, Richard looked around to see that several members of the ton were staring in his direction. “One must make the most of their strengths,” he observed.

  John's expression grew sober as he looked at Richard. “The ease with which you astound the ton isn't a strength.”

  “Shall we say it's a gift then?” Richard countered swiftly.

  “More a curse than a gift, I'd warrant.” John clasped his hands behind his back. “Until last year, I'd worried whether you'd ever tire of the wastrel lifestyle you'd embraced. But you have quite admirably reclaimed your dignity.” His brows furrowed. “What I can't understand is why you continue to act the rake? Why don't you behave—”

  “This isn't the time or place for this conversation,” Richard interrupted. “Now if you'll excuse me, John, I see Mother across the room, and I need her help in identifying someone for me.”

  “Perhaps I can help,” John offered. “With your . . . more adventurous pursuits this past year, you've spent little time at these affairs, but I've attended most of them.”

  “Naturally,” Richard remarked with a laugh. “After all, you must fulfill all the social obligations befitting your station.”

  “Why is it that whenever you speak of my preference for polite behavior you always end up making me sound like a priggish bluenose?”

  “Because you're fast becoming one,” Richard returned, trying to soften his words with a smile. “Really, John, I'm starting to worry about you.”

  John rocked back on his heels. “Isn't that ironic?”

  “Yes, but it doesn't change the fact that I worry you are becoming too set in your ways, too rigid . . . too much like Father.”

  “I shall take that as a compliment,” John said smoothly.

  “It wasn't meant as one,” Richard muttered, shaking his head. “Father could barely crack a smile on his best days. Is that really what you want to become?”

  A side of John's mouth quirked upward. “As long as I have you around, I doubt it would be possible to give up smiling. You're just too bloody entertaining, Richard.”

  Richard rolled his eyes. “You're deliberately missing my point, John. You should heed my warning and start to live a little before you turn around and find you're a crotchety old man with no wife, no children, no friends.”

  Amusement brightened John's expression. “Well, at least I'll still have you, brother.”

  “Fine, then. Make light of this, John,” Richard replied. “I'm too busy trying to discover the identity of my mystery lady to spend more time arguing with you now.”

  “I offered to help,” John reminded him.

  “Very well.” Searching the ballroom again, Richard spotted his dance partner sitting along the far wall, next to one of Almack's patronesses. “The one seated next to Lady Sefton.”

  At a glance, John nodded. “That is Lady Elizabeth Everley, the daughter of the Earl of Shipham.”

  Elizabeth. Richard turned the name over in his mind. From what he could tell of her nature from their brief acquaintance, he acknowledged that the name fit her well: formal, cool, and yet still soft and feminine.

  “Would you like an introduction?”

  Imagining the lady's response, Richard began to grin as he nodded. “Lead the way.”

  2

  Douglas Everley, Earl of Shipham, stepped into the grand ballroom and looked around for his daughters. With one quick glance he found Catherine, wearing a wide smile as she danced with Lord Allen. Unfortunately, his Elizabeth wasn't dancing, but rather sitting against the rear wall next to one of the patronesses of Almacks.

  Sighing, he made his way over to his eldest daughter, wondering with each step what it would take to make her more interested in attracting a gentleman's attention. “Pardon the interruption, my lady, but I wonder if I might have a word with my daughter,” he said, bowing low.

  The grand dame tipped her head graciously. “ Certainly, my lord.”

  Before he could escort her to a more private area, Elizabeth blurted, “I danced earlier, Papa. I kept my promise; I swear I did!”

  “Lady Elizabeth did indeed dance earlier, my lord,” began Lady Sefton. “In fact, I was just now warning her about that particular gentleman . . . if one can apply that term to Lord Vernon.”

  Douglas frowned slightly, trying to place the familiarsounding name. “Lord Vernon, you said?”

  Her elaborate headpiece bobbed as Lady Sefton nodded. “Exactly. Lord Richard Vernon, younger brother of the delightful Marquess of Wykham.”

  “Ah, yes,” Douglas murmured. “I am acquainted with the Marquess, but have never had the pleasure of meeting his sibling.”

  “I'm quite certain you would find it a pleasant experience if you ever were to meet Lord Vernon, for he is a charming devil.” Lady Sefton waggled her fan at Elizabeth. “Which is precisely why you should stay far away from him, young lady,” she pronounced in firm tones. “That rapscallion seems to know precisely what to say to a lady to make her believe he knows her very soul.”

  “Come now, Lady Sefton,” began Douglas with a smile. “I've yet to meet a gentleman who possessed that particular ability.”

  “As you said, my lord, you've never met Lord Vernon.” Snapping her fan open, Lady Sefton fluttered it against her chest as if she were about to become beset with vapors. “Why, two seasons ago, he ruined the reputation of a young debutante with his silvered tongue and sweet compliments, enticing her into improper behavior. The poor dear thought Lord Vernon in love with her, foolish chit that she was, only to discover that he'd done it all on a wager.” Lady Sefton made a tsking sound as she slowly shook her head. “Of course, it was far too late for her by then, and her shamed parents were forced to wed her off to some country baron. And that is only one tale from Lord Vernon's wicked past,” she finished.

  “There are more?”

  Douglas watched the color drain from his daughter's face as she listened to Lady Sefton's gossip.

  “Much worse,” announced Lady Sefton.

  Undoubtedly providing the mavens of Almack's with all the fodder they desired, thought Douglas, tired of listening to gossip. “Elizabeth, I'm in dire need of refreshment.” Offering Lady Sefton a polite nod, he assisted his daughter out of the seat. “Excuse us, my lady.”

  Bowing her head in acquiescence, Lady Sefton immediately turned toward her companion on her left. “It would be a dreadful shame to allow Lord Vernon to ruin another girl, especially one as . . .”

  Having heard enough, Douglas tugged Elizabeth away
from the gossip. When she stumbled, he looked down at his daughter, alarmed by her pallor. “Elizabeth? Are you feeling ill?”

  Confusion darkened her gaze as she slowly shook her head. “H-h-h-he seemed so nice.”

  “I don't doubt he did,” Douglas agreed, squeezing Elizabeth's hand in comfort. “And he might be precisely what he seemed to be. You can't listen to idle gossip, Elizabeth. I prefer to judge a man upon his present actions, not his past ones.” Still, he knew from experience that, more often than not, gossip stemmed from a grain of truth, and if one bit of that horrid tale he'd just heard from Lady Sefton was true, then he would have to ensure he steered his daughter far away from this Lord Vernon.

  Glancing up, Douglas noticed the Marquess of Wykham approaching, and at the marquess’ side was a gentleman who, from the look of him, was the infamous brother. “It looks as if I'm about to get the opportunity to finally meet this notorious gentleman.”

  Beside him, Elizabeth moaned softly.

  “Good evening, my lord,” John said as he held out his hand to Lord Shepham. “It's been quite a while.”

  “Indeed.” Lord Shipham accepted the outstretched hand with a shake. “You are looking well, Wykham.”

  “I can say the same to you, sir.” Placing a hand upon his brother's shoulder, John drew Richard forward. “Might I have the honor of presenting my brother, Lord Richard Vernon?”

  “A pleasure,” murmured Lord Shipham, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

  The reaction didn't surprise Richard. Obviously the man had heard of his reputation. Biting back a curse, Richard glanced at Elizabeth to see if her father had spoken to her about his past.

  Gone were the shy smiles and warm glances. Instead, the ice maiden had returned . . . and this time, Richard feared he wouldn't be able to melt through the frozen wall that surrounded Elizabeth once again.

  A resigned sigh escaped Richard as she lifted her chin and pointedly looked away from him. So much for finding someone who understood him, he thought, as Lord Shipham introduced Elizabeth to John.

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Wykham,” Elizabeth murmured to John, dipping into a curtsey. Pointedly ignoring him, she didn't even bother with a polite greeting. If he'd had any doubts about how much she'd heard about his past misdeeds, they were gone now.

  An awkward silence descended upon the group until Lord Shipham cleared his throat. “So, Lord Vernon, how did you meet my daughter?”

  Richard instinctively adopted the pose of rakish ennui he'd perfected years before. “I walked up to her and introduced myself,” he said blithely.

  “Introduced yourself?” John muttered under his breath. “Good Lord, Richard, what were you thinking?”

  “I believe I was thinking that the lady was in need of a dance partner.”

  John let loose a long-suffering sigh. “Please forgive my brother his boldness, my lady. Despite his frequent lapses in propriety, I assure you he is well-bred.”

  “Well-bred?” Richard laughed. “Lord, John, you make me sound like a hunting hound. Next thing I know you'll be offering to show her my teeth.”

  Lord Shipham stiffened. “Your comment makes me question the statement altogether, sir.”

  John sent Richard a quelling look, then offered a reassuring smile to Lord Shipham. “Pardon my brother, sir. His humor is an acquired taste.”

  “So I see.”

  Humiliation burned inside Richard as he tried to keep the flush of embarrassment from staining his cheeks. Lord, why did he let his anger get the best of him? And why the devil had he been so disappointed in Elizabeth's rejection of him in the first place? Acknowledging the utter rudeness of his behavior, Richard offered his own apologies to Lord Shipham. “Please pardon my . . .”

  “Excuse us,” Lord Shipham interrupted, directing his comment toward John, “but I promised my daughter refreshment.” And with that, Lord Shipham tugged Elizabeth away, leaving Richard staring after them in frustration.

  “Why do you persist in behaving so poorly, Richard?” John asked wearily. “Would it kill you to let others know that you truly are a gentleman?”

  Swallowing the lump of humiliation stuck in his throat, Richard shrugged one shoulder. “I don't know; I've never tried.”

  “It's past time you did,” John said quietly.

  Staring after Elizabeth, Richard released a sigh. “ Perhaps you're right.”

  John nudged him. “Perhaps?”

  The long-time jest made him smile. “Sorry, I forgot. You're always right, aren't you?”

  “And you're always the clever one, Richard.” John put a companionable hand upon Richard's shoulder. “Now, why don't we see if we can find a cigar and a drink?”

  “Lead the way.”

  As her father led her out of the ballroom, Elizabeth struggled to contain her need to scream. How could she have been such a fool? Like a naive country girl, she'd been taken in by Lord Vernon's glib statements, allowed his words to touch a chord deep inside her and make her believe he felt the same way she did in society.

  Instead, however, he'd been playing a game. Like a master magician, he'd gazed into her, seeking out her weakness, and used it to disarm her. When she thought of how he'd spouted all that nonsense about not judging him by his appearance, she felt even more foolish. She'd just been duped by a master.

  Well, she'd certainly shown him that she wasn't so easily deceived. As soon as she'd snubbed him, Lord Vernon had dropped his mask, allowing her to see the caustic, jaded libertine he'd hidden from her during their first meeting. He played the part of offended gentleman like a premier actor from a Drury Lane theatre.

  The thought of forcing another polite smile tonight made Elizabeth want to groan. Pressing a hand to her temple, Elizabeth offered her father an apologetic smile. “I'm feeling a bit fatigued, Papa, and would like to return home now.”

  “Certainly, my dear,” he murmured immediately. “It's near dawn anyway, so why don't I collect your sister and we'll all be heading off.”

  Though she didn't want to spoil Catherine's fun, Elizabeth knew she wouldn't be able to bear another chance encounter with Lord Vernon. Promising herself that she would explain it to Catherine when they arrived home, Elizabeth nodded to her father. “I shall wait here for you.”

  A few moments later, her father returned with Catherine-in tow.

  “I still don't understand why we can't stay for the last hour, Papa,” protested Catherine.

  “Sorry, Cat, it's my fault,” Elizabeth said, saving her father from explaining. “My head is beginning to pound.”

  Catherine nodded understandingly. “Almack's can be so overwhelming.” Without another word, they collected their wraps and allowed their father to escort them outside.

  “I saw you conversing with the Marquess of Wykham and his brother, Lord Richard Vernon,” Catherine began the moment the carriage door closed.

  Before Elizabeth could answer, their father chimed in. “Indeed we were. I'm acquainted with the marquess through a business venture we both invested in.”

  “From all accounts, the two gentlemen might very well look like brothers, but their disposition couldn't be more different,” Catherine said, undoubtedly relaying the latest gossip. “So tell me, Elizabeth, what did you think of the proper marquess and his devilish brother?”

  “Apt description.”

  Catherine's eyes widened. “My, my. Do tell.”

  Regretting her impulsive remark, Elizabeth shrugged lightly. “There's nothing to tell, except to agree with what you've already said. Lord Wykham was indeed very proper and charming, while his brother made no attempt to curb his rakish manner.”

  “I quite agree,” their father stated firmly. “The younger pup struck me as being rude and far too puffed-up.”

  Remembering Lord Vernon's deceit, Elizabeth agreed with her father's assessment wholeheartedly. “Since Lord Wykham behaved in a most decorous manner, I found it a bit startling to think them brothers.”

  “Wh
y?” Catherine questioned, tilting her head to the side. “Do you think that just because they are family they should act the same? After all, you and I disprove that theory, Elizabeth, for we are as different as night and day.”

  “True,” Elizabeth conceded with a small frown.

  Their father smoothed a hand down his vest. “So, you were taken with the marquess, were you, Elizabeth?”

  There was an odd note to Papa's question. “To say I was taken is an exaggeration. Lord Wykham simply impressed me with his manner.”

  “Ah, but perhaps with a little nudging we can change your being impressed to being taken,” Catherine said brightly.

  “I've long since given up hope of that, Cat,” admitted Elizabeth, holding in a sigh of regret. “I've yet to find someone who I wish to marry.”

  “You'll find someone soon,” predicted their father, patting Elizabeth's arm comfortingly.

  “Even if I don't, it won't be disastrous.” Shaking her head, Elizabeth tried to make her sister and father understand. “I will be perfectly content back in the countryside, where I can read, pursue my experiments, and live my life exactly as I desire.”

  Papa looked stunned as he sagged back against the carriage seat. “You don't mean that, Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, but I do, Papa.” Leaning forward, she placed her hand upon his knee. “Why must I marry in order to be happy?”

  “Because if you don't, you'll be alone.” A haunted shadow darkened his expression. “And there is nothing worse than being lonely.”

  Knowing he was thinking of Mama, Elizabeth hurried to reassure him it was different for her. “I know you miss Mama terribly, but it won't be like that for me. I've never been in love, never felt a part of someone, so I won't feel as if I've lost something.”

  “I . . . I don't know what to say to you, how to convince you that you're wrong,” Papa said finally.

  “I'm not wrong.” As the carriage rolled to a stop, Elizabeth straightened in her seat. “Will you consider what I've said tonight, Papa?”