“Absolutely not.” Celia jumped to her feet, spurred as much by guilt as shock. Hadn’t the same thought occurred to her? “That would be wrong.” She paced. What was her aunt thinking? She swiveled toward the other woman. “The scandal would cast a shadow on everyone’s lives, including Henry’s and his brother’s.” She resumed pacing. “Regardless of how we feel about one another, Katherine is still my sister. I would hate to ruin her wedding, not to mention her life.”

“From what I’ve observed it’s fairly obvious her life, as well as his, will be ruined if they do marry. Barring death, marriage, my dear girl, is forever.”

“Henry will never go back on his word. It’s just not in his nature to do something like that. He’s far too honorable and kind and...” Her aunt was right. Henry and Katherine certainly weren’t in love. A bit of scandal versus an entire lifetime of unhappiness, well, it was something to consider. One might say it would be a favor to both of them to stop the wedding. Of course, Katherine would never see it that way. Still, wasn’t it Celia’s duty really to help her sister avoid spending the rest of her days in a loveless, ill-fated union? She paused in midstep. “How?”

“How?”

“How would you stop the wedding? Not that I think you should,” Celia added quickly. “I am simply curious.”

“I don’t exactly know how. Yet.” Aunt Guinevere’s brows drew together thoughtfully. “It would have to be subtle.”

“I will have no part of it,” Celia warned.

“Extremely discreet,” Aunt Guinevere murmured, obviously already working on an idea.

Celia stared. The woman was as diabolical as she was independent. There would be no stopping her now.

“Nor do I want to know any of the details.”

“Absolutely right, my dear.” Aunt Guinevere nodded firmly. “Your hand should be nowhere near this. We’ll come up with a plan. Something clever and subtle and perfect.”

Celia groaned. “Good Lord, Aunt Guinevere. You sound positively wicked.”

“Nonsense, Celia, I’m not at all wicked.” Aunt Guinevere grinned. “But I do try.”






Day Two


CHAPTER FOUR


“I TELL YOU he’s losing interest in me.” Katherine’s voice sounded faintly from Miss Quince’s room. “He’s not nearly as enthralled as he was.”

Gwen caught herself, her hand a scant inch away from knocking on Miss Quince’s door. The door stood the tiniest bit ajar, cracked open so slightly Gwen doubted the inhabitants of the room were aware of it. In spite of her best intentions and the certain knowledge that no one ever heard anything good when one eavesdropped, Gwen leaned closer to the door.

“Good Lord, Katherine.” Miss Quince huffed. “I would think you of all people would be able to keep a man’s attention.”

Gwen winced. She could well imagine the look on Katherine’s face.

“How was I to know it would even be necessary?” Katherine snapped. “It never occurred to me his attention would lag.”

“Perhaps if you were more the loving and attentive fiancée—”

“Loving and attentive?” Katherine scoffed. “He is lucky to have me. I am not the kind of woman who happens along every day. Especially not for someone as ordinary as Henry. Men like Henry rarely have women like me on their arm.” She sniffed. “He should be grateful.”

Gwen’s jaw clenched.

“Gratitude may not get you to the altar,” Frances warned.

“I realize that!” Katherine’s voice faded in and out as she apparently paced the room. “While Henry is not the most exciting man in the world, he has unquestioned honor. A man of his word, that sort of thing. He would never renege on his promise to marry me.”

Gwen resisted the urge to scoff aloud.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Miss Quince said in a placating tone.

“You are not listening to me,” Katherine said impatiently. “Something has changed. And I do worry. I worry when the look in his eye is not one of adoration but speculation. When he no longer seems eager to spend time with me. When he stops asking if I would like to go for a stroll to see the gardens or the fountains or whatever else there is to see here.”

“I thought you told him you are not fond of the out-of-doors?”

“That’s beside the point. He’s not particularly keen to be indoors with me, either. Not anymore.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Katherine blew an annoyed breath. “I don’t wish to wager my future on a man’s sense of honor. Even Henry’s. What if he decides breaking his word is less objectionable than marriage to me?”

“That’s a possibility, I suppose.” Worry sounded in Miss Quince’s voice.

“I have passed my twenty-fourth birthday. Henry is my last chance at an excellent match. The last possibility for a title and fortune and everything I—we’ve—always wanted. We have to do something.”

“One would think there would be some way to guarantee he keeps his word and marries you.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. If his word alone is not enough to ensure our marriage, I can’t imagine what else might make a man enter into a marriage he didn’t want.”

“What else...” Miss Quince sucked in a short breath and her tone brightened. “Henry wouldn’t have a choice if—” triumph sounded in her voice “—he ruined you.”

Silence fell in the room and Gwen strained to hear. Surely even Katherine wouldn’t consent to such a thing?

“Ruined me?” Katherine said thoughtfully. “You mean actual indiscretion or simply the appearance of improper behavior?”

“Given all there is to gain, it seems a small enough sacrifice.”

Gwen stifled an indignant gasp.

“That does seem to be the only answer.” Katherine sighed. “Then I shall have to join Henry in his bed tonight. Or perhaps I should already be there when he...”

Gwen carefully stepped away from the door. It wouldn’t do for Katherine or Miss Quince to know they had been overheard. Forewarned was forearmed, after all.

Any reservations she might have had about stopping Katherine’s wedding had vanished with the younger woman’s words. Determination swept through Gwen. No man deserved to be tricked into marriage. This wedding would absolutely not take place. Henry’s future, as well as Celia’s, was at stake.

A scant half an hour later, she and her friends were gathered in the small sitting room off her new bedroom.

“My mother always said listening in on a private conversation is ill-mannered.” Poppy crossed her arms in a show of moral indignation. It really didn’t suit her. “I am shocked by your behavior, Gwen. Simply shocked.”

“That’s what you find shocking about all this?” Effie scoffed. “Gwen’s behavior?”

“I expected better of her, that’s all.” Poppy paused. “Of course, the rest of it is shocking, as well.”

“And Poppy is right when one deliberately sets out to eavesdrop. That would be most improper,” Gwen said quickly. “However, in this particular instance, it was completely accidental on my part and therefore can be forgiven. I simply went to Miss Quince’s room after breakfast to discuss the arrangements for this week’s festivities. I had no idea she and Katherine would be in the midst of plotting to make certain Henry has no possible way to avoid this marriage.”

“And you actually heard them say if Katherine could find a way into Henry’s bed, he’d be trapped?” Effie asked.

“I heard it all.” Gwen shook her head. “And I do believe this casts things in an entirely different light.”

“Without question.” Poppy frowned. “Why, when you first said we needed to stop the wedding because Henry and Katherine aren’t in love and that Henry is actually in love with Celia, I felt my conscience twinge just the tiniest bit. Although I will always be on the side of love.”

“As will we all.” Gwen nodded. Poppy was a genuine romantic and even Effie—who did tend to be considerably less starry-eyed than Poppy—was a staunch believer in true love.

“But now that we know how truly despicable the bride is...” Poppy squared her shoulders. “Why, it seems to me we have no choice but to rescue poor Henry.”

“So, just to make certain I fully understand, our mission, if you will, is to—” Effie counted the points off on her fingers “—plan and coordinate the various events leading up to this wedding—now a mere six days away—”

“Goodness, Effie, while Miss Quince is somewhat overwhelmed, she did provide us with a framework of sorts.” Gwen adopted her most confident smile. “The invitations have gone out.”

“That’s something, I suppose.” Effie cast her a skeptical look. “Then aside from the invitations, we have the wedding and accompanying events to organize all while keeping the bride out of the groom’s bed—”

“Not just his bed.” Gwen narrowed her eyes. “There are all sorts of places in a house like this for an assignation.”

“There is that,” Poppy said under her breath, obviously reflecting on her own memories of amorous encounters.

“Very well, then,” Effie continued, “keeping the bride and the groom apart—”

Gwen nodded.

“—as well as devising a plan to stop the wedding altogether.” Effie studied her friend. “Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?” Gwen grinned.

“Oh, this does sound like fun.” Poppy’s eyes sparkled.

“Do you have a plan?” Effie asked. “For any of this?”

“Well, as you can see, I now occupy a different bedroom. I spoke to the butler and he has arranged different rooms for you both, as well. Your things are being moved even as we speak.” Gwen smirked. “Henry’s room is across the hall from this one, Effie’s room will be on one side of Henry’s and Poppy’s on the other.”

“We are surrounding the poor man,” Effie murmured.

“For his own good,” Gwen pointed out. “The greatest potential for scandalous behavior is under cover of night. Therefore, we shall have to make certain he stays in his room and does not have any unexpected guests.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Effie’s brow arched. “Stand guard outside his room?”

“Excellent idea.” Gwen beamed. “I was thinking the very same thing myself. We will take turns and watch his room all night.”

“Although I think it would be best if we sat rather than stood,” Poppy said thoughtfully.

Effie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Whether we sit or stand, how are we going to explain ourselves?”

Gwen dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “Oh, we’ll think of something. Daytime is a different problem entirely, although Henry does not strike me as the type of man who could be easily seduced during the daylight hours.”

“Pity,” Poppy murmured.

“Even so, Katherine is a powerful temptation,” Effie said. “And she did manage to get him to propose.”

“No man is truly safe when it comes to a beautiful woman.” Gwen thought for a moment. “However, Katherine is the bride and therefore should be the center of attention this week. The center of our attention. As we are now the ones putting all the arrangements together, it makes perfect sense that one of us will be with her every minute.”

Effie stared. “Sometimes I find you positively frightening, Guinevere Blodgett.”

“Thank you.” Gwen tried and failed to keep a grin off her face.

“Still...” Poppy’s forehead furrowed. “That’s only half of it. While we do seem to have an acceptable plan to keep Katherine from ensuring that Henry has to marry her, we still have no way to stop the wedding from happening at all.”

“It’s obvious that Henry Saunders is not the type of man to go back on his word. He has said he would marry her and marry her he will.” Effie shook her head. “In spite of Katherine’s fears—as much as he might want to—I suspect he’ll never break it off with her.”

Gwen sighed. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“It has always struck me as much more civilized and, well, proper when the bride is the one to call off a wedding. One does tend to think a bride has legitimate reasons, whereas when a groom begs off, it’s attributed to cowardice. Or something of a sordid nature. It’s a pity we can’t get her to break it off with him,” Poppy said with a sigh.

Gwen and Effie traded glances.

Effie grinned. “That’s rather brilliant, Poppy.”

“It is?” Poppy’s eyes widened.

“Oh, it is indeed. Henry may be too honorable to beg off from this wedding, but Katherine has no such scruples. She’ll abandon him in a moment under the right conditions.” Gwen smiled slowly. “And I know exactly what those conditions will be.”


CHAPTER FIVE


HENRY SAUNDERS HAD never considered himself irrational, weak or stupid. Apparently he was wrong.

The moment he spotted Celia descending the terrace steps into the gardens, he should have turned around, walked back into the house and as far away as possible. Instead, he found himself hurrying after her, ignoring the voice in his head that fairly screamed he shouldn’t follow her. That insisted this was a dreadful mistake. That no good could come of being alone with Celia Bromley. He’d heeded that voice for the three weeks since her arrival at his family’s country home—three endless, torturous weeks of indecision and doubt and longing. Now he ignored it. A man could only take so much.