AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was unseasonably hot for June. The air was stifling and wet with the threat of rain.
Heat brought out the worst of London. The refuse in the gutters became ripe and rotten. Coal smoke stuck to her skin and the insides of her nose.
She wished she were back in Pudsey, reading under the shade of her favorite oak tree, with her pet cat Kali curled up next to her.
She wished she were anywhere except here, in this church, having her hopes crushed.
She glanced back at Charlene and Thea who sat three rows away. The sympathy in their eyes nearly made her break down in tears. But she wouldn’t cry.
Not for a man.
And most definitely not for an arrogant aristocrat who played cruel jokes on trusting young ladies.
Alice squared her shoulders. “We should leave now. I don’t want to stay any longer.”
Though she didn’t relish the thought of walking back through the audience past all the people her mother had invited.
“Have patience, dear,” said Mama. “He will come. He must come.”
“What’s this? Not at the church? Wake up, man!”
Loud, insistent voice in his ear. Heavy hands shaking his shoulder.
“Go ’way,” Nick muttered, slapping the hand away.
“Wake up, you reprobate.”
His dream’s long limbs and teasing dimples fled and were replaced by the decidedly less attractive vision of Captain Lear’s darkly whiskered visage looming over the bed.
“It’s your wedding day, for Christ’s sake,” said Lear. “Thought you’d be at the church by now. Was going to raid your wine cellar while you were out.”
“My wedding day,” Nick repeated groggily. Of course it wasn’t his wedding day. He was never going to marry. The words made no sense.
And then they did.
Awful, stomach-churning, death-knell-ringing sense.
He bolted upright. “What time is it?”
“Half nine.”
“Damn it, man! Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” Nick leapt out of bed, stubbing his toe on the bedpost. “Bollocks!” He gripped the bedpost as pain momentarily hobbled him. “Berthold was supposed to wake me at seven.”
Nick and Patrick had been out late last night, not carousing, as one might suppose a bachelor with one night of freedom left might do, but following a lead on someone who might have led them to news of the missing Mr. Stubbs.
They’d made little headway in that regard. The man had vanished. Probably on a ship bound for America by now.
“Alice is going to kill me. One assignment. I had one assignment. Drag my sorry arse to the damned church. I told her she could count on me. I promised her I’d be there.”
“Well, I hope so, since you’re the bridegroom.”
Marry Alice. Keep roof over father’s head. Send Alice to India. Resume life of dissipation.
He’d had weeks to think about the terms of their agreement.
Weeks to imagine Alice’s tutelage in vivid, glorious detail.
Which must be the reason he’d stayed celibate throughout their engagement, though there had been plenty of prodding by his more unscrupulous friends to enjoy his last days of bachelorhood.
