The Bride Says No (3 page)

She would have disappeared into the house except for Ingold filling the doorway. “Is the earl here as well?” the butler asked anxiously, looking around as if he expected their father with his coach and team to be hiding in the shrubbery by the side of the house. “And Mr. Stephens?”

Tara hummed noncommittally before saying with great authority, “No, they are not here. They won’t be. I came alone.”

That news surprised Ingold enough for her to slip by him, but Aileen was not about to let her off that easily. She set out after her sister, pushing her own way past the butler.

Tara was already down the hall. She seemed to quicken her step as she sensed Aileen behind her. Bullying and ordering her way might do the trick with the servants, but it would not work with her older sister. Still, Aileen didn’t catch up with Tara until she was down the back stairs and into the kitchen.

“
Fresh
bread,” Tara said with delight as she reached for one of the loaves Cook had cooling on the wooden table in the center of the room. Without ceremony, she pulled it apart and stuffed it into her mouth.

Cook and the scullery maid had turned at the entrance of a stranger. Cook raised the wooden spoon she had been using to stir the pot over the fire, ready to defend her loaves of bread, when she recognized Tara. Her manner changed in an instant. “My lady? Is that you? Oh, blessed beings, it is. You have been gone too long from us.”

Her mouth full of bread, Tara smiled, as beatific as an angel. “This is delicious, Cook,” she said around chews. “Better than any I’ve ever tasted, even in London.”

Cook preened. “You know my mother taught me how to bake that bread. Our family secret. Will carry it to my grave—”

“
Excuse
us,” Aileen ordered, grabbing Tara’s arm and swinging her sister out the door toward the steps.

Tara grunted her farewell to Cook, since her mouth was full.

Aileen propelled Tara halfway up the stairs and stopped, so incensed with her sister that she could not go a step further. “
What do you think you are doing?
” she demanded.

“Eating,” Tara said, and that flippant reply set Aileen’s temper off.

“Listen, missy, enough of this. Why are you here? Why aren’t you in London preparing for your wedding? How did you even travel here?”

Tara swallowed and drew a deep, satisfied breath before saying, “I’m here because I live here, and I rode the mail coach. That is how I traveled.”

“
Dressed in men’s clothing?
” Aileen was incredulous when she imagined the dangers.

“I didn’t want anyone to recognize me,” Tara said as if it was obvious. “And I must say, there is much freedom in being a man. But you are right. I need to remove these clothes.” She would have started up the stairs, but Aileen grabbed the hem of Tara’s jacket.

“
Why?
” she demanded of her younger sister. “And don’t accuse me of wrongdoing for asking questions. I’m not someone you can twist around your finger.”

For a second, Tara’s expression let her know she resented the challenge, but then the defensiveness left her. She leaned a shoulder against one wall, her hip resting on the bannister. With sober eyes, she said, “Because I started thinking.”

“About what?” Aileen pressed.

“About happiness.”

“Go on.”

Tara made a frustrated sound and then said, “Oh, be honest, Leenie, don’t you wish you’d questioned yourself more
before
you married Geoff?”

At the mention of her divorced husband, Aileen took a step away. “I couldn’t have known what a terrible man he was before we wed. I
didn’t
know. But if I had, if I’d realized how cruel he was, yes, I would not have married him. Are you saying Mr. Stephens is as harsh?”

A frown formed between Tara’s eyes. She picked at the bread, dropping crumbs to the floor. “He isn’t completely like Geoff. I mean, I don’t think he would hurt me.”

Aileen didn’t realize she had been holding her breath, waiting for her sister’s answer, until she released it. Tara was a canny one. She knew exactly which approach to take to gain sympathy. Of course, Aileen would not wish for her sister the hell that her marriage had been, but now she wondered with concern about when her charming little sister had become so manipulative. Of course time and distance had played their tricks. The two of them, who had once been so close, were now practically strangers.

Still, Aileen wanted to believe Tara had good reason to be here. “Tell me. Explain to me. You want me on your side, and I understand that what is done is done. You realize you are ruined, don’t you? Jilting the groom is the worst sort of offense, even if no one had liked him, which I understand is not the case with Mr. Stephens. He is respected. There is no way you can return to London.”

Tara flicked a few more crumbs to the floor, the corners of her mouth tightening.

Aileen placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders and leaned forward so that Tara had no choice but to face her. “You are fine with becoming an outcast?”

“
You’ve
managed.”

“Yes, I have. But it isn’t easy being the black sheep of the family.”

“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered, sounding as if she truly meant the words. “I wish the whole matter, the divorce, Geoff, all of it, hadn’t been so terrible on you.”

“The terrible part was being his wife,” Aileen said. “I can live with the rest as long as I have my freedom. And,” she added, “life is more pleasant here in the valley than it was in London. Our cousin Sabrina offered staunch support, and few are willing to cross her.”

“That is good to know,” Tara said. “I worried.”

Aileen didn’t know if she believed her.

In Tara’s defense, her wisest course had been to distance herself as far as she could from Aileen. The scandal wasn’t just that Geoff had divorced her, an act that required a vote of Parliament. No, the worst part had been the Criminal Conversation trial—also called the Crim Con—that had preceded the divorce, during which he’d publically branded Aileen as an adulteress for her affair with Captain Peter Pollard, one of Geoff’s fellow military officers.

And now, in one of life’s unexpected twists, here was Tara, running to the haven of Annefield just as Aileen once had.

“Why, Tara? What drove you here?”

For a long moment, Tara studied the remains of the bread in her hands, then she said, “The closer the time came for my wedding, the harder I found it to breathe.”

“Do you not like Mr. Stephens?” Aileen asked.

There was a beat of silence. Then Tara answered, “He is pleasant.”

“That is not the strongest recommendation for a groom,” Aileen said. “But it is not a bad quality in a husband.” She knew. Geoff had not been pleasant.

“I needed to come home.”

“You could have come home after the wedding.”

“It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Tara, tell me your story,” Aileen said in a voice only an older sister could use. “You could have cried off. There would have been talk, but if you truly had no desire to wed, it is what should have been done. Instead, you have humiliated Mr. Stephens, and men don’t respond well to that.”

Tara’s mouth took on a mutinous set. She was hiding something, keeping her true motives to herself and evading Aileen’s questions.

“Did you even bother to leave a note for the earl?” Aileen asked. “Does he know where you have gone?”

Before Tara could answer, there was a footstep on the stair below them. Two lads from the stable were starting up the stairs with buckets of hot water, probably for Tara’s bath.

The women stepped aside and let the boys pass. If Tara felt any discomfiture at being seen by the servants in male attire, she was too stubborn to admit it.

But the stable lads were embarrassed. Bright color flooded their faces, and Aileen could just imagine what they were thinking . . . and she wondered if Tara remembered, after the sophistication of London, how provincial life and morals were in the valley. If she didn’t, she would quickly receive a dose of reality.

Alone again, Tara said to Aileen, “No, I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t want Father to stop me. Mr. Stephens is paying a fortune to marry me.”

Aileen sighed. Geoff had done the same. The earl knew how to auction off his daughters.

“So you ran away from the marriage to humiliate the earl?” Aileen asked, begging to understand.

“I don’t wish to humiliate anyone. And don’t give a thought to Mr. Stephens. He didn’t want to marry me any more than I wanted to marry him.” Tara unceremoniously shoved the bread in her pocket and yanked off her jacket. She started up the stairs.

“Then why did he ask you?” Aileen said, following.

“For the same reason they all do. They know they must marry. It is expected. And I—” Tara stopped, as if troubled by a thought. “And I am—or
was
—the prize. When one man wants a woman, they all want her. It is much like the bidding on Father’s horses. One buyer has a notion that he must possess one of our nags, and then they all want the exact same horse—even though Father has several in the stable just like it or even better. It is the way men think,” she decided, moving up the stairs again, saying as she went, “Mr. Stephens’s brother was one of my suitors. The marquis has such an affected manner I would never have married him.” She shook her head. “He always smelled of the worst cologne. He also gambled, and lost consistently.”

“Like the earl.”

“Exactly,” Tara agreed. “Except he had access to Penevey’s resources. Father favored the marquis until, all of a sudden, Mr. Stephens swooped in and offered more. You know how it is. Geoff’s father paid handsomely to marry him to you.”

He had
.

“Besides,” Tara continued, “Mr. Stephens was a prize himself. So many women had set their caps for him that I was flattered he would pursue me. And he did chase me, Leenie. He was persistent.”

“So you
wanted
to marry him?”

“I told myself I did. But in truth, Father pressured me for the match, and it did appeal to my vanity.”

Tara had not stopped at the ground floor but continued up the narrow winding back staircase to the family quarters. She opened the door and walked down the wide hall.

“Then what changed?” Aileen asked.

Facing her, Tara’s expression grew pensive. “Do you remember the conversation we had the day you left for London?”

Aileen shook her head.

“You spoke about love?” Tara reminded her softly. “You said you would only marry for love.”

A hard weight settled in Aileen’s chest. “I remember the conversation. I was naive.”
A silly Highland lass without much understanding of the world.
“Please don’t tell me you shredded your reputation for my ridiculous notions.”

“It didn’t sound ridiculous to me at the time. And it doesn’t sound ridiculous now.”

“But it is. Tara, love is a myth, an illusion . . . a fantasy. Men and women are too selfish for such an emotion to exist between them for any length of time.”

“You sound so jaded.”

The accusation stung. “Not jaded,
experienced
. I’ve seen both sides. I had a marriage in which the earl passed me on to the highest bidder. And I tossed it all away because I thought I was in love.”

“Weren’t you?”

“With Peter Pollard?” Aileen shook her head. “I don’t know anymore. Certainly I had intense feelings for him, or could that have been a reaction to Geoff’s cruelty? In the end, it doesn’t matter.” She soothed a hand over her sister’s shoulder. “What is important is that for women of our station in life, there are expectations. I was foolish to believe I could do otherwise.”

“But what if I want more?”

Tara’s question hung in the air between them a moment before Aileen informed her sadly, “There is nothing more. You should use my life as a cautionary tale.”

A flash of rebellion came to Tara’s eye. “I am not you—” she started, but she broke off as the door to her bedroom opened. The two lads with the bathwater came out with empty buckets, followed Mrs. Watson. She was a petite, thin woman with steel gray hair and a kind nature. She appeared a bit flushed, and Aileen could only imagine the running around she’d been doing to hastily prepare for Tara’s arrival.

“Lady Tara, welcome home,” she said, bowing her head in welcome.

“Even dressed as I am?” Tara asked.

“We will accept you any way we can receive you, my lady,” Mrs. Watson answered. “And clothes can be changed . . . which I suggest you see to now,” she added briskly.

Tara looked to Aileen. “This is why I had to return. It’s been too long since anyone just accepted me for being me. And it is good to be surrounded by Scottish voices, and Scottish attitudes.” She smiled. “Excuse me, Aileen. I am now under instruction to change from these clothes. I’m thankful the lad I purchased them from didn’t have fleas.”

“I didn’t have time to assign a maid, my lady,” Mrs. Watson said. “May I be of assistance?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Watson, that will be all,” Tara answered. “I know how to undress myself, and I shall appreciate a moment alone.”

“Very well, my lady.”

Tara walked into her room and turned, holding the door and preventing Aileen from chasing after her. “We’ll discuss this later, sister,” she said. “I’m tired to the point of fatigue.” She shut the door, practically in Aileen’s face.

“It is good to have her home,” Mrs. Watson said. “So very good.”

“Aye, it is,” Aileen murmured absently, wondering why Tara had
really
bolted days before her wedding.

Her sister was not being honest. She told some of the truth, but not all.

Geoff had been a mere baronet’s son. His had been a difficult nature, and Aileen knew all too well why his father had been willing to pay to see him married. However, Mr. Stephens was allied with a powerful and undoubtedly proud duke. In spite of the unconventional circumstances of his birth, he had a good reputation. Aileen prayed her sister knew what she was doing.

She also hoped Tara understood
why
she was doing it.

Aileen knew all too well that the “whys” were always more important than any other questions.

I
n the safe haven of the room of her childhood, a room of soft blue, rose and greens, Tara finally drew her first relieved breath.