CHAPTER TWO
“MRS. BLODGETT, MRS. HIGGINBOTHAM and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore—” Edward, the Earl of Danby, stood at the head of the dinner table and raised his glass in a toast “—welcome to Danby Manor. I cannot remember the last time so many lovely guests were gathered around this table. Thank you for improving the conversation—” he grinned “—and the view.”
“Allow me to add my thanks, as well.” Henry Saunders favored the newcomers with a welcoming smile then retook his seat.
It was indeed unusual to have any guests at all at the country house and rarer still to have ladies in residence. But between Katherine, her sisters Louise and Celia, Celia’s aunt and her aunt’s friends, the men in residence were outnumbered two to one. More, really, if one included Miss Quince, who was indisposed tonight and not at dinner. Apparently it took a flock of women to arrange a week of prenuptial events culminating in the extravaganza that would mark the joining in marriage of a man and a woman. Henry believed he might have heard doves mentioned but he preferred not to think about it. If he had his way, the ceremony would be simple and the celebration restrained.
His gaze caught his fiancée’s. Katherine was seated beside Edward at the head of the table; her sister Louise sat on his left, devoting all of her attention to Edward. Hoping to ensnare another Saunders brother, no doubt. Katherine cast him a brilliant, perfect smile and a wave of shame washed through him. Even if his thoughts about Louise were true, they were unkind. After all, she would be his sister-in-law when he married the incomparable Katherine.
Katherine Bromley might well have been the most beautiful woman Henry Saunders had ever seen. He was realistic enough about himself to understand that was why he was originally attracted to her. With her dark hair, vivid green eyes and delectable figure, she was the center of attention anywhere. When he met her, a scant three months ago, he had been most grateful none of the Bromley daughters had had an official season. Katherine would have been snatched up immediately, in spite of the family’s financial difficulties. As it was, she had reached the advanced age of twenty-four without having wed. Henry had fallen head over heels for her very nearly at first sight.
It was not at all like him. While Edward—Ned to his brother—was the older of the twin brothers, and as such the one who had inherited the title of Earl of Danby from their father, Henry was the more sensible and responsible of the two. Ned often said it was a pity he was born a few minutes sooner as Henry had the temperament and the nature to be an excellent earl. Admittedly, Ned had spent the first few years after Father’s death continuing his wild ways with little regard to the duties that had been thrust upon him, and Henry had been the one to make certain the needs of the estates and the family’s business interests were met. It wasn’t until their mother had died three years ago that Ned had finally accepted his fate. As if Mother’s death had brought home to him the full responsibilities of his position. It had come as a shock to Henry when he realized his devil-may-care brother had become—for lack of a better word—an adult. Now the brothers worked together in a congenial and productive manner that served them both well.
In spite of being twins, their appearance was as individual as their natures. In their youth, they had often bemoaned the unfairness of not being identical and able to pass for each other. While they shared similar dark hair and brown eyes, and did indeed look like brothers, Henry was a few inches taller than Ned with a slighter build, whereas the earl’s shoulders were broader, his form more solid. Both were considered above average in appearance, although Ned had always been rather dashing and exuberant, while Henry was far quieter and inclined toward pursuits of a scholarly nature.
Now, at the age of twenty-seven, both men were viewed as extremely eligible bachelors. While Henry had a significant fortune in his own right, Ned, of course, was a better catch and was hotly pursued by young ladies eager to be a countess and their equally eager mothers hoping to snag a title for their family. It was another mark of the disparity between the brothers that if anyone was asked which of the two was more likely to lose his head over a beautiful woman, Ned was the brother who came to mind, as he had indeed done so any number of times in the past.
Of course, he’d never been so stupid as to ask for their hand in marriage.
“You are a lucky man, Henry.”
“Lucky?” His attention jerked to the lady seated beside him. Mrs. Blodgett was somewhere in her forties and was quite lovely for her age. As were her friends.
“Indeed.” She nodded in Katherine’s direction. “Katherine will make a beautiful bride.”
“Oh, yes, Katherine.” He smiled. “I am most fortunate.”
It had all happened so fast. In hindsight, Henry wasn’t sure how it had happened at all. Katherine was in many ways perfect—every man’s dream come to life. And from the beginning, she was interested in him. That alone made her almost irresistible. Henry was used to being second to his brother, especially when it came to women, and he had never especially cared. But Katherine had eyes only for him.
He had been enamored of her in a lost-puppy sort of way from the moment they’d met. She had quite frankly swept him off his feet. It was as if he had been sucked into a whirlpool, an unrelenting force of nature. One moment she was gazing into his eyes and the next he’d been engaged. He had no idea what he had said but it had been heartfelt. Katherine had thought it important to wed as soon as possible, saying now that they had found each other, it would be foolish to put off starting their lives together. It had been terribly romantic and he had agreed wholeheartedly. Now it seemed absurd and ill-advised and rather stupid. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had feared he might change his mind. Indeed, by the time he’d realized what a huge mistake this was, he was well on his way to the altar.
The enormity of his error in judgment loomed over him like a forbidding cloud, made all the darker for its unfamiliarity. Henry did not make mistakes. Nor was he ever the brother in the midst of a storm.
No, Henry Saunders was the responsible one. The one who should have been born first. He’d wondered on occasion why he hadn’t as his nature was far more suited to the duties of the position of earl than his brother. But for all his acceptance of responsibility, he’d never had any desire for the title and everything it entailed. Indeed, his life was quite pleasant. He had the financial means to do as he wanted, the time to spend as he wished, satisfying work to fill his days and a staff that was as much family as employees. Someday, he expected to find a wife that would fit nicely into that life. He had certainly been with women, although he was not as accomplished in that respect as his brother. But he had only once before thought himself in love. He certainly never expected to fall in love again very nearly at first sight.
Or to fall out of love just as quickly.
“I’m afraid I don’t know her well.” Mrs. Blodgett studied Katherine. “Although she seems quite pleasant.”
“Doesn’t she, though?” Henry said without thinking then winced to himself. His comment was more telling than he had planned. Unfortunately, the more he grew to know Katherine, the less he wished to spend the rest of his life with her. He’d never been engaged before but he was fairly certain one should not think of one’s future wife as shallow, vain and selfish. Worse, while she had seemed to adore him initially, now her feelings struck him as more rehearsed than genuine.
The fact of the matter was that he and Katherine shared no common ground. There was nothing Henry enjoyed more than immersing himself in a good book. Katherine disdained literature, preferring ladies’ magazines, more for the fashion than any literary offerings. Henry preferred a quiet life with no more than a moderate number of social functions, whereas much of Katherine’s talk of the future centered around the parties and soirees and balls they would attend after their marriage. Henry enjoyed museums and galleries and was intrigued by new artists. Katherine thought history was best left in the past and her idea of fine art was something created by a prestigious artist that looked nice on a wall. Aside from preparations for the wedding, much of her time was spent with her aunt and sister Louise planning how to decorate his house in London and discussions of what kind of grand house she wished him to build in the country. Henry had never particularly thought about money—although it was nice to have—and while he’d never been especially frugal, neither did he spend with wild abandon. Katherine was freely spending his family’s money for the week’s festivities. Admittedly, it was understandable given her own family’s finances, and while Henry did not begrudge her that, he did hope this was just a momentary indulgence on her part. He feared he was wrong.
“My apologies, Mrs. Blodgett, but I’m afraid I’m confused. I would have assumed you knew Katherine, as well as the rest of the family, quite well.”
“One would assume that.” Mrs. Blodgett studied Celia sitting across the table from them, talking in an animated manner to Mrs. Higginbotham. “My sister was Celia’s mother. Unfortunately, after her death, I was not able to see my niece as often as I would have liked.”
“I gather you regret that.”
A wry smile curved her lips. “You are remarkably perceptive, Henry.”
“Some things are obvious, Mrs. Blodgett.” He smiled, his gaze following hers. “At least to me.”
Try as he might, he could not keep his thoughts off Katherine’s youngest sister. Fair-haired and petite in stature, Celia wasn’t as stunning as Katherine, but simply quite lovely in a quiet sort of way. There was something about Celia Bromley that was almost irresistible. Henry couldn’t truly describe it and was afraid to try. From the moment he’d met her, quite by accident at one of his favorite booksellers’, the moment he’d looked into her blue eyes, something inside of him had clicked like the turn of a key in a lock, as if all the puzzle pieces of his life had abruptly snapped into place. He’d had the strangest sense of recognition somewhere deep in his soul, as if they’d been destined to meet or had met before or had known each other always. The French called it coup de foudre, a bolt of lightning. Love at first sight. It was absurd of course. Only the French would give credence to such a thing. Silly, spontaneous feelings that struck without warning were certainly not to be trusted, not by a rational, sensible man.
Regardless, he’d found himself returning to the bookseller’s more frequently than was his habit in hopes of meeting her again. It was hopeless, really—he didn’t even know her name. Henry put any thought of her out of his mind and managed to convince himself whatever he had experienced was due no doubt to the onset of a cold or something he’d eaten that had disagreed with him, or simply dwelling on the incident gave it more importance than it warranted. Then he met Katherine and his life changed irrevocably. It wasn’t until he’d already asked for her hand that he was introduced to her sisters and realized the awful, glaring truth. His brief encounter was his new fiancée’s younger half sister. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been so susceptible to Katherine’s charms because somewhere deep inside he was mourning the loss of something he’d never had.
Neither of them acknowledged their previous encounter, at least not aloud. What difference did it make anyway? It was too late. He was to marry her sister and no matter what feelings Celia Bromley might stir inside him, there could be nothing between them. Still, in spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering in her direction. Couldn’t stop the odd twisting of his heart when she was near. Couldn’t prevent thoughts of her that lingered in his mind and invaded his dreams. Without warning, Celia turned her head and her gaze met his. For a moment, it was as if all the air had rushed out of the room. As always, the look in her eyes was a reflection of his own—a mix of caution and longing and resignation. Not that either of them had ever admitted such a thing. Nor would they.
“Indeed, Henry, some things are more than obvious.”
His gaze snapped back to Mrs. Blodgett and at once he realized his mistake. A truly innocent man would not have taken her casual comment as an indictment. But Mrs. Blodgett simply smiled in an innocuous manner and promptly changed the subject. “Your brother says you are quite interested in antiquities and all things ancient.”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Indeed I am.”
“My husband and some of his associates have been discussing an expedition to find the lost city of Troy.”
“Really?” Henry stared. “What an extraordinary adventure that would be.”
“Charles is a most adventurous sort and the more extraordinary the better.” She smiled in an affectionate manner.
“You must miss him when he’s away on his extraordinary adventures.”
“Indeed I do but someday I shall wear down his resistance and he shall take me with him.”
“But you’re a woman.”
“How clever of you to notice, Henry.”
“My apologies, I didn’t mean—”
“No apology needed.” She waved off his comment. “Even in these modern times, the idea of a woman traveling anywhere not considered completely civilized is unthinkable. I do hope that will change one day but I am not overly optimistic. It is universally accepted that a woman’s place is to be safely left behind to tend to house and home.”
“And you disagree with that?” Caution edged his voice.
“Not entirely but even the most content among us can occasionally long for something a little more exciting. For now, I suppose we need to console ourselves with adventures of a less extraordinary nature.” She smiled. “Walking down the path of life hand in hand with the right person is something of an adventure in and of itself. When one’s heart is engaged—” she glanced down the table at Katherine “—it can be the most extraordinary adventure of all.”
“No doubt,” Henry said faintly.
It was bad enough to realize one wasn’t in love with the woman one was committed to marry, but to accept the awful growing conviction that one didn’t especially like her was much worse. But even that paled in the face of the horrible truth of the matter.
Henry Saunders had indeed found the love of his life and there was nothing he could do about it.