Merely the Groom Page 14

  “Neither is tomorrow’s meeting, I’ll wager,” Sussex added.

  Jarrod made a wry face. “I warned you that the baron would be a formidable opponent.”

  “You were correct,” Colin affirmed.

  “How much does he know?” Sussex asked.

  “Very little about the impostor,” Colin answered, “but more than I would like about my movements during the past month.”

  “Enough to endanger our mission?” Jarrod asked.

  “Lord Davies and his investigator knew enough to endanger not only our mission and the Free Fellows League but every War Office operative under Colonel Grant’s command. Nothing I said would dissuade him from pursuing his investigation. He was willing to do whatever he had to do in order to find the man responsible for his daughter’s disgrace.” Colin raked his fingers through his hair. “Since I’m not able to produce another Colin Fox or explain why he assumed my identity in order to commit this crime against Miss Davies, it seemed that the best course of action was for me to simply accept responsibility for his actions.”

  “Damnation!” Sussex exclaimed.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Colin agreed.

  “You’re innocent,” Griffin protested. “You had nothing to do with it. We can prove that.”

  “At what cost?” Colin asked. “Exposing the Free Fellows League and the work we do? We can’t take that risk. Gillian—”

  “Gillian?” Jarrod queried. “When did she become Gillian?”

  “When he agreed to marry her,” Sussex retorted. “That generally entitles him to call her by name.”

  “The point,” Colin continued, ignoring the interruption, “is that Miss Davies told her father that the man she married—one Colin Fox—was a clandestine agent working for our government against Bonaparte.”

  “And Fox’s trail led to Colonel Grant’s door, because what he’d told her was the absolute truth.” Jarrod slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Have we been so careless a charlatan can follow in our footsteps?”

  “No,” Sussex and Colin answered in unison.

  “We haven’t been careless. If we had, I wouldn’t be here today. I’d be lying in an Edinburgh close with any number of unpleasant puncture wounds and my throat sliced from ear to ear for good measure, and he’d be working to accomplish his mission.”

  “Which is?” Jarrod demanded.

  Colin frowned. “I don’t know. Yet. But I mean to find out.” And somehow Gillian is the key.

  Sussex lifted the brandy decanter and offered some to Jarrod and Colin before refilling his glass. “Of all the names in England from which to choose, he chose the one he knew you had assumed. That tells me that he meant to make you responsible. He meant to lay all of his crimes at your door.”

  “He meant to use me by laying all of his crimes at my door,” Colin said. “Because that was one way to slow my progress and prevent me from discovering what he was really about. I don’t intend to let that happen. I mean to uncover his mission.”

  “Was eloping with Miss Davies simply a diversion?” Colin glared at Jarrod.

  “No,” he replied. “It was part of the plan. I don’t know whose plan. But she was a pawn in someone else’s game. And the game isn’t over.” He stood up and began to pace.

  “He’s right,” Griff said. “And just because our impostor is lying low doesn’t mean his work is done. There is more here than meets the eye. This isn’t about taking advantage of unsuspecting young ladies for monetary gain. There’s a more ambitious plan afoot. And we must discover what it is.”

  “But sacrificing yourself to protect the members of the League is going above and beyond the call of duty, Colin.” Jarrod was awed and repelled by the idea.

  “You would do the same if the impostor had used your alias instead of mine.” It was the truth, and Jarrod knew it, but he didn’t like having Colin remind him of it.

  “What about your Free Fellows vows?” Sussex asked. “We shall give our first loyalty and our undying friendship to England and our brothers and fellow members of the

  Free Fellows League,” Colin quoted the tenth item in the Free Fellows league charter. “I’m doing what I think is best in an effort to fulfill that vow.”

  “So, you’re marrying the baron’s daughter.”

  “That’s the sum of it, Jarrod. I’m marrying the baron’s daughter tomorrow morning. And because I’ve not yet reached my thirtieth year, I owed each of you five hundred pounds.”

  “Which you’ve paid in full.” Jarrod shook his head. “Still, I can’t help thinking there must be another way out of this quandary.”

  “This is the best way out of this quandary,” Colin said. “I’ll sacrifice a little personal freedom, but I’m gaining more than I’m losing.”

  Griff managed a smile. “If I know Lord Davies, you’re gaining a fortune along with your lovely bride.”

  “That’s correct,” Colin said. “I’ve been a poor viscount all my life. I’m prepared to give being a rich viscount a try. I believe it will suit me much better.” He gave the other Free Fellows a lopsided grin. “And it’s not as if I have much of a personal life, anyway. I accepted Lord Davies’s blackmail because it would solve a great many problems for all of us. Believe me, this is the best way. For her. For me. For our families and for the Free Fellows.”

  “When will the wedding take place?” Griff asked. “Tomorrow morning at ten at Lord Davies’s town house. The announcement will appear in tomorrow’s edition of the Morning Chronicle and the Times. A wedding breakfast will follow.”

  “Have you told Lord and Lady McElreath?” Griff asked.

  “Not yet,” Colin replied. “I plan to tell them later this evening when I go to collect the Grantham jewelry.”

  Jarrod, Sussex, and Griff exchanged meaningful glances. There had been some disturbing rumors over the past few months regarding the disposition of the McElreath and Grantham family jewels. Colin hadn’t said anything, but he had to have heard that his father had been pawning the most impressive pieces of the collections.

  Colin intercepted the exchange. “I’m aware of the rumors. And the truth is that I don’t know if my mother still has the Grantham jewelry. Unfortunately, the only way to find out, at this late date, is to ask her.”

  “Do you think they’ll attend the ceremony?” Jarrod asked, suddenly worried that Colin would have no one to stand up for him or represent his side of the family at the wedding. Members of the Free Fellows League eschewed weddings as a general principle and custom dictated that the close bachelor friends of the groom avoid them in practice.

  “My mother will,” Colin answered. “My father’s presence at my nuptials is less certain.”

  Griff stood up and reached out his hand to Colin. “Alyssa and I would be honored to stand up for you and Miss Davies.”

  Colin was stunned. “Free Fellows don’t—”

  Griff laughed. “I know the Free Fellows unwritten tenet is that we don’t attend weddings, but I broke that rule by attending my own.” He looked Colin in the eye. “Allow me to ease the way for you and your bride and to represent the other Fellows by standing up for you at your wedding.”

  Jarrod walked over to Colin. “Listen to him,” he urged. “Now is not the time to be stubborn. Griff’s a duke and a war hero. His august presence at your wedding will go a long way in shielding your bride from the nasty rumors and innuendo that are sure to surface as a result of this hasty marriage. And having Alyssa there will insure that Miss Davies is accepted and welcomed at all the best places.”

  “Shepherdston’s right.” Sussex rose from his chair to join the others. “There are a great many advantages to having a duke and his duchess attend your wedding. If I were married, I’d offer to do the same.”

  “Thank you,” Colin answered, taking hold of Griff’s hand. “I’ll be honored and grateful to have you and Alyssa there.”

  Griff clapped Colin on the back. “That’s what friends are for.”

  Chapter Fourteen


  “And oftentimes excusing of a fault

  Doth make the fault the worser by th’ excuse.”

  —William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

  King John

  Gillian was about to become a bride. Again. And the nervous fluttering in her stomach increased in direct proportion to the ticking of the clock on the mantel and the flurry of wedding preparations currently under way in her parents’ London town house.

  At ten o’clock in the morning, Gillian would promise to love, honor, cherish, and obey for the second time in as many months. And for the second time in as many months, she was marrying a man who was very nearly a stranger. The difference this time was that she was marrying her father’s choice of a stranger instead of her own.

  And she wasn’t traveling the length of England in order to do it. This time, she need only make it out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and into the drawing room. Racing to Scotland might prove easier.

  Gillian closed her eyes and murmured another in a series of fervent prayers. She prayed her father would be a much better judge of bridegroom than she had turned out to be, and she gave thanks that the wedding ceremony was going to be held in the drawing room of her parents’ home instead of the church sanctuary where she’d been baptized and that only a handful of people would be present to witness it. There was less chance of God striking her dead when she repeated her vows in a drawing room. The church sanctuary was altogether too risky.

  When she’d eloped with Colin Fox, she believed in the vows she’d repeated with all her heart. It didn’t matter that she’d repeated them before the anvil in a blacksmithing shop without benefit of clergy. The blacksmith reading the words of the ceremony, a stable full of horses, two witnesses, and Colin were all she’d needed to feel like a bride.

  Tomorrow’s ceremony would feature a rector, a special license, her parents, and a bridegroom—another Colin—one who carried the title of viscount and who hadn’t eloped with three women within months of one another. Tomorrow’s wedding would be perfectly legal—in the eyes of God and in the eyes of the law—but Gillian felt like a fraud.

  “Stop fretting, Gilly-flower,” her mother spoke from the doorway of Gillian’s bedchamber. She had come to help Gillian select a dress for the wedding and could tell, with one look, that her assistance was needed in other ways as well.

  Gillian drew herself up to her full height, straightened her shoulders, looked her mother in the eyes, and attempted a bluff. “Who’s fretting?”

  “You are,” Lady Davies said. “And there’s no need. Everything will be all right.”

  “Will it?” Gillian asked sadly. “He’s only met me twice. And he’s only marrying me because Papa’s paying him handsomely and forcing him to accept damaged goods.”

  Lady Davies canted her head to one side and watched as Gillian twisted a delicate lace handkerchief into a tight little knot. “I’ve only met him twice myself, but Lord Grantham didn’t appear to be particularly weak in character or resolve. Did he appear that way to you?”

  “No, he did not,” Gillian admitted.

  “Then, perhaps it’s time you realized that men of true character are rarely forced to do things they do not wish to do.” Lady Davies walked over to Gillian and rescued the scrap of knotted lace from Gillian’s hands. “Lord Grantham may have reasons for agreeing to marry you of which you are unaware, but I’ll wager they are good and honorable reasons that have very little to do with the handsome sum your father is paying him.” She looked her daughter in the eye. “If it were only about the money, my dear, he would be marrying an heiress whose reputation isn’t hanging by a very thin thread.”

  Gillian was thoughtful. “If it isn’t about the money, then why choose me?”

  “Perhaps he likes what he sees,” Lady Davies said. “Perhaps he thinks you’ve a good head on your shoulders and will be a good companion and an asset to his name.”

  Gillian gave a very unladylike snort of sarcastic disbelief. “I can see how my most recent demonstration of intelligence and sensibility led Lord Grantham to draw that conclusion.”

  Lady Davies ignored Gillian’s sarcasm. “Then it’s up to you to change his opinion.” She smiled at her daughter.

  Gillian looked at her mother as if Lady Davies had said something extraordinarily profound. “Lord Grantham told me that our wedding could be a second chance for me if I wanted one.”

  “Do you want a second chance, Gillian? Or do you want to continue to punish yourself for the rest of your life for being fooled by a man who took advantage of your generous heart and your romantic nature?”

  “I want a second chance,” Gillian said. “But I can’t help thinking that Viscount Grantham deserves better.” Gillian admitted her fears aloud. Men like Viscount Grantham deserved women with untarnished reputations. They deserved—he deserved—the best. And she wasn’t the best. Not anymore. Still, it was nice to think that he might have chosen her... Gillian bit back a wistful sigh and ruthlessly suppressed the hundred unnamed, restless yearnings plaguing her. Don’t think about it, she admonished herself, just do what you have to do. “I can’t help thinking that he deserves an undamaged bride—someone who hasn’t made a foolish mistake. Someone who would make him a much better viscountess.”

  Lady Davies took a deep breath. “The contracts have already been signed, my love. I think Lord Grantham has made his decision, and he’s picked you.”

  “But, Mama—”

  “Gillian,” Lady Davies’s voice was firm. “He’s a grown man. You cannot protect him from himself. He’s made his decision. You’re going to become Viscountess Grantham tomorrow morning. Lord Grantham is giving you a second chance. Why don’t you give him one as well?”

  “I wish I could believe he felt something for me,” Gillian said wistfully.

  “Believe it, Gilly-flower, because he wouldn’t be marrying you if he didn’t.” Her mother leaned over and kissed Gillian on the cheek, then took her daughter by the hand and led her over to the armoire. “Now, we’d better get busy. We’ve a trousseau to assemble and a wedding dress to select.”

  * * *

  The hired butler announced Colin when he arrived at his mother and father’s rented London town house.

  The town house, situated several blocks off the park on the edge of Berkeley Square, provided its residents with a fashionably acceptable address, and its distance from the park made it slightly more affordable than other closer mansions. But Colin still wondered how his father managed to afford it.

  Waiting for the last quarter hour for his mother to appear had given Colin plenty of time to study the details of his surroundings, and he’d concluded that although the drawing room was adequately furnished, the furnishings were not of the same quality as those found in Jarrod’s or Griff’s London homes, and it couldn’t begin to compare with the Duke of Sussex’s Park Lane mansion.

  He was reevaluating the wood carving in the mantel when his mother entered the room.

  “Colin, what a pleasant surprise!” His mother rushed to embrace him.

  He bent to kiss her cheek. “Evening, Maman.”

  Lady McElreath accepted his greeting, then moved to a damask-covered sofa and perched on the edge of the seat. She lifted a silver coffeepot from the tray on the table that Nelson, the butler, delivered to the drawing room. Lady McElreath filled a delicate bone china cup with hot coffee, set it on the matching saucer, and offered it to Colin. “Come sit down and tell me what brings you here tonight.”

  Colin accepted the cup of coffee and sat down on a wing chair angled near the sofa. “I came to invite you to a wedding.”

  “Really?” Lady McElreath poured herself a cup of coffee. “Whose wedding?”

  “Mine,” Colin answered.

  His mother’s cup rattled against the thin bone china saucer, and several drops of the hot liquid splashed her hand. “You’re getting married?”

  Colin nodded. “Tomorrow morning at ten. At Number Seven Park Lane. The announcement will appear in th
e morning papers. I thought it best I inform you before you read it in the papers.”

  “Thank you for telling me. That was considerate of you,” Lady McElreath replied, her voice laden with sarcasm and displeasure.

  “I didn’t come here just to tell you about the wedding.” Colin frowned. “I came to invite you. You’ll receive an engraved invitation in the morning, but I came in person because I thought you and Father and the children might want to attend.”

  “Of course I would,” Lady McElreath said strongly. “And now that you’ve issued the invitation, might I know the name of the lucky young lady who is about to become my daughter-in-law and the newest member of our family?”

  “Miss Gillian Davies.”

  Lady McElreath sighed. “Oh, Colin, are you sure?”

  “Quite sure,” he answered firmly. “Why?”

  His mother took a deep breath. “There have been recent rumors about—”

  Colin cut her off, unwilling to hear uncomplimentary comments about his bride-to-be from the mother he loved and admired. “Maman, you know there are rumors about everyone in the ton. And you, of all people, should know better than to lend them any credence.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not the only one likely to have heard them,” she told him. “Or to have given them credence—especially in light of this rather sudden wedding.” She looked over at her son. “I wasn’t aware that you were acquainted with Miss Davies until you danced with her last evening.”

  “I met Miss Davies a fortnight ago while she was visiting relatives in the border country,” Colin replied, relating the story he had spent the last quarter hour concocting. “The wedding may seem hasty to you, but it won’t come as a very great surprise to the members of the ton who read tomorrow’s announcement and remember that I danced with three ladies last evening: you, Liana, and Gillian.”