Duke of a Gilded Age (39 page)

“My dear, I’ve never seen a more lovely bride,” Aunt Meg said. “What do you think?”

Belle turned to examine her reflection in the floor-length mirror.

“Truly, it’s everything I ever dreamed of in a wedding dress, Aunt Meg.”

The older woman beckoned to the seamstress. “I wonder, should we take in a little around the waist, Mrs. Lemon?”

“The waistline can only be adjusted by pulling in the laces, Mrs. Mills, but if we tighten them much more, we’ll have unsightly bunching in the fabric,” the seamstress replied.

Aunt Meg frowned. “Annabelle, dear, if you lose any more weight, the dress won’t fit. You’re to eat extra bread with lunch and dinner, and dessert too.”

“Yes, Aunt Meg,” Belle said. “I’ll try.”

“Now that that the matter of the wedding gown is settled, we can go shopping for your bridal nightdress.”

Panic at the image of her bridal night with Errol caused Belle to blanch and her eyes to widen. “Must we? I can’t bear the thought!”

Aunt Meg gave her a sympathetic look before turning to the seamstress. “Will you excuse us, Mrs. Lemon?”

“Certainly. I’ll be out front.”

Mrs. Lemon disappeared, but Aunt Meg lowered her voice nonetheless.

“It was the same with me, dear,” she confided. “As repulsive as the whole procedure is, you end up with a baby in the end. Just have several glasses of wine at the wedding breakfast, and you won’t mind so very much what happens after.”

Tears welled up in Belle’s eyes. Her aunt would be very much shocked if she knew how much she secretly longed to share Wesley Parker’s bed in a night of wedded bliss.
With Errol, however, a whole bottle of wine will be necessary to render me insensible!
As her tears crested and began to flow down her face, Aunt Meg gasped.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “Tilt your head back, Annabelle, before you cry on the dress!”

Aunt Meg ran to the curtain which separated the dressing area from the shop. “Mrs. Lemon, you’re needed!”

With the seamstress’s help, a sobbing Belle was quickly freed from the wedding gown before any damage was done. Clad only in her chemise and petticoat, Belle sat on a three legged stool and cried. Clearly distressed on Belle’s behalf, Aunt Meg knelt beside her and stroked her hand.

“The secret is to get with child as soon as possible and then your husband will let you alone,” she whispered.

Belle sobbed harder. She could hardly imagine Wesley abandoning her bed, whether she was
enceinte
or not. “How
horrible
,” she wailed.

Aunt Meg misunderstood. “I know, but try not to think about it anymore. Let’s get you dressed, dear, and go out to an early lunch, hmm? Perhaps a few glasses of champagne right now would be beneficial.”

Saddle-sore, Wesley soaked in a large, claw-footed bathtub filled with hot water and bath salts. Afterward, he donned his breeches gingerly. Cavendish’s lips twitched underneath his mustache as he assisted Wesley with a shirt and waistcoat.

“You
will
grow accustomed to the saddle, Your Grace. It takes time.”

“This gentleman business is tougher than it looks,” Wesley muttered.

“You’re doing splendidly, but why don’t you take a break from lessons today? You’ve been working hard for three straight days, and there’s no need to become an expert equestrian immediately.”

“I
shall
take a break from lessons, but that doesn’t mean I won’t ride this afternoon. I promised to check in on Mr. Oakhurst while Belle is away, so I’ll take Kelpie. Tomorrow, however, we’ll go twice as long with lessons. Next week, I’d like to try some jumps.”

“Not on Kelpie, you won’t. I’m informed he’s skittish when it comes to jumps.”

“That’s too bad. I’ve become fond of him, but I’ll have the groom pick another horse for jumping, then.”

Cavendish peered at him. “You can ride to the Malagasy Protectorate and back but it won’t lessen your feelings for Miss Oakhurst one iota. I speak from personal experience.”

Wesley sat to pull on his boots. “I have to do
something
to keep occupied, or I’ll lose my mind.”

“Have you thought about the best way to win her back?”

“That’s
all
I can think about, but when Belle humiliated me in front of Errol, she made her choice clear.”

Wesley despised the note of anguish in his voice.

“Such callous behavior doesn’t sound like Miss Oakhurst.”

With a pang, Wesley noticed the loathsome book of etiquette was lying on top of the bureau. “So you found that, did you?” He made a dismissive gesture toward the offending tome. “Belle insisted on giving me that book like I was some sort of American rube in need of remedial education. Errol enjoyed himself tremendously at my expense.”

Cavendish folded his arms across his chest and regarded Wesley with something approaching disdain. “Are you quite finished feeling sorry for yourself?”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself, and why would you say such a thing?” Wesley asked, wounded.

“You haven’t slept for days, you barely eat, and you’ve ridden until you can’t sit down. Your self-pity is blinding you, lad.”

“That’s uncalled for, Cavendish.”

“I disagree. Besides which, the next time someone gives you a gift, you may want to look at it before hiding it away.”

“What are you talking about?”

Cavendish picked up
Etiquette for Gentlemen
and pressed it into his hands. Wesley peered at him, confused.

“Come now, Your Grace. Don’t make me spell it out,” Cavendish said. “Open it.”

When Wesley opened the leather bound volume, he discovered a sealed envelope wedged between its pages. He shot Cavendish a startled glance. “It’s addressed to me, in Belle’s handwriting. You knew about this?”

“I was organizing your drawer while you were taking your morning bath, and discovered the letter when I leafed through the book.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right off?”

“I just did.”

Wesley opened his letter and brought it over to the window seat to read. As he drank in the words written on the page, the muscles in his throat tightened so much the pain radiated into his clenched jaw.

Dear Wesley,

Please understand, I do what I must to protect my family. Since you and I are never to be together except as distant acquaintances, I feel free to confess a most passionate admiration and respect for you without regard to whether my feelings are returned. You’re undoubtedly the bravest and most thoughtful gentleman I’ve ever met. Nevertheless, I made a promise that must be kept, else dire consequences will ensue. I don’t wish for you to acknowledge this letter in any way, nor should you attempt to interfere with my marriage. Just know that I’ll always care for you.

~ B.

Poignant despair was laced with pure elation.
Does a majestic eagle feel the same way as I do now—joy while he soars on the wind, just before a hunter’s arrow pierces his heart? She loves me. Belle Oakhurst loves me, but she’s to marry Errol.

Wesley read Belle’s letter over again. Two phrases in particular, when taken together, gave him pause. “
I do what I must to protect my family.”
The only member of her family she could be protecting would be her father. Why would Mr. Oakhurst need protection, and from whom?
“I made a promise that must be kept, else dire consequences will ensue.”
The promise Belle was referring to must be the one in which she agreed to marry Errol, but if she did not keep that pledge, what calamitous outcome would follow?
I must find some way to help her out of this mess.
She never gave up on me when I was stranded on the
Apollo
, and I won’t let her down now!

“More is going on here than meets the eye,” he told Cavendish. “Errol has some sort of hold on Belle which she won’t reveal.”

Cavendish stroked his mustache and goatee, in contemplation. “There
is
something odd about that man, I’ll grant you.”

“You don’t have to tell
me!
The preening, vainglorious Errol seems bent on emulating Lord Byron.”

“I’ve been asking discreet questions in the servant’s quarters regarding the fellow. Nobody seems to know much about him, except that he moved to Mansbury from London this spring. Usually, servants know everything about everyone.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me to learn he was birthed from a reptile egg.”

“Nevertheless, it can often be said that a man without a past is a man with something to hide.”

Wesley nodded in agreement, but in the back of his mind he suddenly realized the same sentiment could apply to Cavendish. Although he trusted the man implicitly, his past was nothing if not murky. What was he hiding, and why? With more pressing matters to attend to, he pushed his curiosity about Cavendish to the side.

“I’ll visit Mr. Oakhurst right after breakfast,” Wesley said. “It may be ill-mannered to call on him so early in the day, but I don’t think he’ll mind. He doesn’t like Errol much more than I do.”

Wesley was mildly surprised when the housekeeper showed him into the library, where Mr. Oakhurst was sitting at his desk. The attorney wore a dressing gown, and his arm was in a sling. When Wesley entered the room, Mr. Oakhurst made as if to stand.

“No, please don’t get up. You’re fine as you are.” Wesley sat in a chair facing the desk.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Mr. Oakhurst said. “Pardon my attire, but it’s devilishly tricky to manage dressing myself with only one hand.”

“Forgive my interference, Mr. Oakhurst, but shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Mr. Oakhurst laughed. “That’s debatable, but since my daughter has gone off to London, I need answer to no one.”

“I suppose not,” Wesley said, chuckling. “Have you heard from Annabelle?”

“She’s coming home tonight. My sister wrote to tell me Annabelle is suffering from a severe case of premarital jitters.”

“It’s more than that, sir. Annabelle left a communication for me, which I happened to read just today. Although she didn’t say so openly in the letter, I believe she isn’t entering into this marriage of her own free will. She claims to be protecting you from Errol.”

“Protecting me, eh?” Mr. Oakhurst shook his head, sadly. “Since her mother died, I’ve done everything in my power to take care of Annabelle, but I often wonder at times if it hasn’t been the other way around.”

“I wouldn’t press the matter if it weren’t of the utmost importance, Mr. Oakhurst. Can you speculate what Errol may be threatening?”

“My life has been lived aboveboard, so I can’t imagine what he may have told her that she would have believed.”

“What do you know of him?”

“Not enough, I warrant, although I
was
acquainted with his father several years ago. Mr. Richard Blankenship was a respectable gentleman who made vast sums of money investing in South African diamond mines.”