“Wherein things get off to a shaky start.”

 

Violette looked at Celeste across the gloomy confines of the carriage and frowned. Her friend had been somewhat distracted all evening and hadn’t seemed to much enjoy the play. To be truthful, Violette hadn’t attended to it at all, and would have been hard-pressed to tell anyone if it had been a comedy or a tragedy, let alone an idea of the plot. Her mind was entirely focused on the fact that she was going to make Aubrey Russell marry her tomorrow morning if it was the last thing she did. Of course, then her thoughts inevitably turned to what would happen after they married, and the play could no more have held her attention, then, than an audience with Prinny himself. She flushed a little in the darkened carriage, and glanced over once more to see Celeste’s beautiful face pinched into an anxious scowl. She hoped that the countess wasn’t having second thoughts about the mad scheme they’d arranged. Though Violette could hardly blame her if she was. Both her and poor Lord Falmouth would be in deep trouble with her brother for having aided her to marry Aubrey. Not that Falmouth knew the slightest thing about it, but she very much doubted that that would stop her brother blaming him just the same.

That was if Aubrey himself didn’t baulk before they even got to the altar. Oh, how humiliating that would be, and with Ranleigh there waiting with the licence!

“What is it, Celeste?” Violette demanded, quite unable to bear her fidgeting a moment longer. “Have you decided against it?”

Celeste looked up at her with alarm. “Quoi?” she demanded with a distracted air. “Oh, of course not!” She shook her head but didn’t look any less anxious.

“Then whatever is the matter? You’ve been like a cat on hot bricks all evening.”

She watched as Celeste let out a sigh. “Non, it is nothing, only ... I ‘ope I did not give them too much,” she muttered, biting her lip and staring out of the window.

“Too much what?” Violette demanded, frowning at her friend with growing anxiety.

“Laudanum,” Celeste replied as if that was obvious. “I put a little in the claret before we left. Just enough to make them sleep ... I think ...”

“You think?” Violette squealed, sitting bolt upright in her seat. “My God, Celeste!”

“Oh hush!” Celeste scolded her, waving a hand in the near darkness. “I ‘ad to do something. A fine thing if Aubrey ‘ad gone ‘ome after dinner. What then, hein? Besides, I ‘ave done it before. It will not ‘arm them. But if I gave them too much, they might be ‘ard to wake in the morning,” she added, sounding just a little anxious about that fact.

Violette blinked at Celeste in alarm as her words filtered through her astonished brain. “You’ve drugged Falmouth before?” she repeated, her voice faint.

Celeste looked back at her with a frown and then laughed. “Oh, only when ‘e was very ill,” she replied, giggling at the horror in Violette’s eyes. “Not for any other reason, I assure you.” She snorted and shook her head. “Why, Violette, whatever do you think me capable of?” she scolded, her blue eyes glittering with laughter.

Violette gave a prim little sniff and tried not to let her lips twitch. “Well, of helping me elope, at the very least,” she said with dignity as her friend collapsed into helpless giggles. “And after that ... pretty well anything, I should imagine.”

***

Aubrey groaned and rubbed at his stiff neck, looking around to see that he had fallen asleep in the chair in Alex’s study.

“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, even more astonished to see Alex stretched out in the chair opposite, black hair falling across his forehead and snoring fit to wake the dead.

“I say, Falmouth!” Aubrey said, shaking a startled Alex awake.

“W-what?” the Earl replied in annoyance, batting Aubrey’s hand away and then looking around with as much surprise as Aubrey had. “What the devil ...”

“I don’t know,” Aubrey snapped. “But it’s gone eight already. The blasted carriage will be here at half past.”

“All right, all right, no need to bite my head off,” Alex replied, pushing his hair from his eyes and frowning. “Though I’ve never before fallen asleep in my chair like that ... I don’t even remember ...”

“No, nor me,” Aubrey agreed, giving his cousin an impatient push on the shoulder to get him to move. “Must be getting old.”

“Speak for yourself!” Alex retorted, apparently not liking that comment one little bit. He got up nonetheless and crossed to his desk. “Here’s the licence. Ceremony is at nine. I told Celeste that I had a surprise for them both, and they were to be ready early. Come to think of it ...” he said with a frown. “Why didn’t she come in and wake me when she got home from the theatre?”

“I don’t know,” Aubrey replied, pocketing the licence and finding he didn’t much care right at that moment, though he noted his cousin looked troubled and just a little hurt. “Perhaps she didn’t like to wake you?” he suggested, wondering if the age gap between Alex and the lovely Celeste was still something that bothered him. Though any fool could see Celeste was still head over heels for him, Alex had always had trouble accepting it, though, believing he was too old for her.

Aubrey didn’t have time to ponder any further, though. “Come along, Alex, I’m getting married, for heaven’s sake! Buck up and get moving, will you!”

Alex came to at that demand and they both ran upstairs to make themselves presentable.

***

“Oh, Violette,” Celeste said, the words a sigh of pleasure. “You look magnifique!”

Violette turned this way and that in front of the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. She wore the dress that Celeste herself had married in, pale gold silk with the same fabric trailing a delicate flower pattern down the bodice and over-skirts, and embroidered with pearls and gold lamé. It was simply stunning, and Violette had been beyond words on seeing it when Celeste had insisted she wear it to get married in.

“Well, if I do, it is entirely down to you.” She ran to Celeste and kissed on the cheek the woman who had become her dearest friend, embracing her fiercely. “Thank you for the dress and the shoes and ... oh, for everything you have done from the moment I met you. You are the dearest creature and I’ll never be able to thank you.”

“Oh!” Celeste cried in alarm, sniffing and waving a handkerchief like a distress signal. “Arrête! Don’t speak so, you will turn me into a watering pot and then I will look a perfect fright!”

Violette laughed and shook her head. “Well, that’s not even possible,” she scolded and then took a breath as her stomach twisted with anxiety. “Oh, I do hope Becca managed to get my things sent on,” she said, wondering how the poor maid would have contrived it. Becca had been certain it could be done, and though she was disappointed at the idea that she wouldn’t be dressing a duchess, she was a loyal sort of girl and had sworn to help her mistress.

“Never mind that now,” Celeste scolded. “You must cover that lovely gown up. Here,” she said, handing Violette a warm cloak to disguise the beautiful dress beneath.”

There was a hurried knock at the door and Celeste’s maid poked her head around the door. “The carriage is here, my lady.”

Violette caught her breath as panic rolled over her in a wave. “Oh,” she said, suddenly feeling like she needed to sit down.

“Oh, non!” Celeste scolded. “Not now. You must go downstairs right now, and just like we planned, you say you do not feel well and you must go ‘ome right away, oui?”

Violette nodded, silent, too terrified to say a word one way or another.

“Then by the time Aubrey realises that you are at the church, it will be a fait accompli!” she said, clapping her hands together and looking triumphant. Violette caught a glimpse of her own reflection, looking positively nauseated, and swallowed hard.

“Yes,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. Still, she hauled in a breath, lifted up her chin, and put their plan into action.

***

Aubrey paced the hall. Anxiety clawed at his throat, making it hard to breath, but the moment he caught sight of Violette on the stairs, all of his nerves, all of his second thoughts, and the reasons why this was such a bad idea simply fled.

His heart gave a hard kick in his chest as she moved closer to him, and he knew only one simple truth: he loved her. He loved her, she belonged with him, and he would make that happen, for both of them.

He hauled in a breath, and knew then that everything would be alright.

“Hello, Violette,” he said, smiling up at her and seeing those green eyes grow warm and inviting as they stared back at him.

“Oh, Alex,” Celeste cried, hurrying down the stairs behind Violette. “I am so sorry, but poor Violette is not feeling at all well. I’m afraid your surprise will ‘ave to wait for another day. Aubrey, would you be so good as to take her ‘ome? Her carriage is outside waiting already, I think.”

Aubrey felt his heart plummet to his boots as Alex looked on him with sympathy. Well, there went their plan up in smoke, then. He could hardly elope with the poor woman if she were ill. With great difficulty, he swallowed down his disappointment and moved towards Violette. “Of course, I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well,” he said, taking her hand and putting it on his sleeve. Now that she was close he could see she was rather pale, though at his words, two high spots of colour flushed upon her cheeks.

She mumbled something that he didn’t quite catch and turned to Alex, who shrugged and gave him a pat on the back.

“Another day then,” Alex said in reply to his wife, though he was looking at Aubrey.

Aubrey snorted and gave small, desolate huff but said nothing as he guided Violette out to her waiting carriage.

Another day then, he thought with a heavy heart.

***

“Well damnation!” Alex cursed as the door closed behind his unfortunate cousin.

“Oh,” Celeste cried, taking hold of his hand and pressing it to his cheek. “I am so sorry to spoil your surprise, Alex, but ... Oh, Alex,” she squealed. “They are to be married!”

Alex stared down at his wife and blinked, not quite certain he had heard her correctly.

“Married?” he demanded. “What are you talking about? You just said she’s not well, and how did you ...”

“Bah!” Celeste cried, shaking her head and laughing. “Non, it was just a ruse, to get Aubrey to take ‘er ‘ome. They are not going ‘ome at all, they are going to St James’. She ‘as eloped with him, Alex! Isn’t that wonderful!”

His wife looked very much like she was about to dance on the spot and Alex rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“You, madam wife, have just ruined all my plans!” he said with a huff of frustration.

“Quoi?”

“Aubrey was going to elope with her to St James’ this morning,” he explained, watching her big blue eyes grow wide and her lovely mouth form a little o of astonishment.

“‘E was?” she asked, her voice faint.

“He was,” Alex replied, his tone stern, folding his arms and looking at his wife with annoyance that his plans had been thwarted. “He has the licence in his pocket.”

He knew he shouldn’t be surprised when Celeste just went off into peals of laughter at that pronouncement.

“Well,” she said, wiping her eyes and hardly able to speak through her tears. “The Duke of Ranleigh ‘as one as well,” she said, before going off again, laughing so hard she clutched at her chest, hardly able to breath.

“The Duke of ...” Alex began in astonishment and then shook his head, holding out one hand in defeat. “No,” he said, feeling weary. “Please don’t tell me.” He decided for his own sanity that he’d rather not know.

“And you don’t mind very much that I drugged you, do you, Alex?” she said, blinking up at him, her face the picture of innocence. His own eyes widened as he realised what she’d done.

“Why you little ... you little wretch!” he exclaimed in outrage as she went off into another bout of hysterics.

He huffed and then frowned as Celeste paused in her laughing and all the colour rushed from her face. In a moment Alex was by her side, his arm sliding around her slender waist.

“Mignonne,” he said, alarmed by the change in her. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

“Oh ... n-nothing,” Celeste said, and promptly passed out.

Alex cried out in alarm, terror clutching at his heart as he shouted for the doctor to be called and carried his wife up to their bedroom.

She revived as he placed her carefully on the bed, and smiled up at him. “I’m sorry, Alex,” she said, looking a little sheepish. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Startle me?” he repeated, wondering if his heart would ever beat again. If there was anything wrong with her, if she should be sick ... he wouldn’t survive it. “My love, what is it, what’s wrong, are you ill?” he demanded, the catch in his voice only too audible.

She stared up at him with such adoration that his breath caught in his throat and he wondered how it was possible that he loved her more with each passing day.

“There is nothing wrong, Alex,” she said, sounding suddenly a little shy. “Only, I think perhaps we shall start filling that nursery at Tregothnan now, like you wanted to.”

For a moment, his head could not catch up with her words, the terror in his heart that she might be ill stealing any sensible working of his brain, and then, suddenly, he understood.

“You ... y-you mean ...” he stammered, placing a hand on her stomach with such awe that he could hardly catch his breath.

“Oui, mon contrabandier,” Celeste said, her eyes shining with joy. “That is what I mean.”

“Oh, mignonne,” he cried and held her to him, all thoughts of his cousin’s imminent nuptials scattered and gone in the face of his own jubilation.