Magical Weddings (7 page)

Simon blinked in astonishment.
Both
Carew sisters had experienced a change of heart?

Jane strolled up, cleared her throat, and smiled. Simon, belatedly realizing they were the last in the drawing room, offered his arm. He only hoped she wasn’t going to lean on him too heavily, for he was feeling off-balance–as if the Axminster carpet in the drawing room had suddenly turned to quicksand under his toes.

What have you done, Silly Overton? And why?

Because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that the curious change in the atmosphere was somehow Celia’s doing.

Celia had managed to remain on the far side of the room from Simon all evening, though only by devoting herself to young Lord Bilious–
Oh, dear, now I’m doing it too
–and the endless recital of his digestive problems, to the point that simply holding down her own dinner seemed a notable accomplishment.

Perhaps it was only her imagination–or her guilty conscience–which suggested that every now and then Simon cast a smoldering glare across the room at her, because whenever she dared to steal a peek in his direction, he seemed to be enjoying the company. Prudence and Dimity had nudged Jane aside after dinner, though they seemed careful to divide their attention equally between Simon, Lord Stone, and Baron Draycott. Lady Hester, sharing a settee with Lord Lockwood, couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from straying to the group by the fireplace, where she’d clearly rather be. The bride and groom had eyes only for each other.

Really, it was as good as a play to watch them all. Celia hesitated when the evening came to an end and it was time to go up to bed, because she found herself thinking how much fun it would be to stay and tweak Simon a bit. Sanity prevailed, however, and she meekly followed Lady Hester and the Carew sisters up the stairs.

But on Saturday morning when she came down to join the others who were riding out to view the countryside around Rockhill, Simon was standing in her path at the foot of the stairs. She faltered for a moment, then gave him a bright smile and walked around him to join the others milling aimlessly in the entrance hall.

Hester came down a few minutes later wearing a dark green habit, and their hostess followed.

Lady Stone paused on the stairs and looked out over the group. “I suppose some society matrons would find me ridiculously lax in allowing my party of young people to go off on a jaunt without me to chaperone. But I no longer ride, and it would be poor sport for you to be limited to the roads my chaise could take.” Lord Billings opened his mouth as if to argue, but Lady Stone went straight on. “In any event it seems to me that the ladies will all be quite adequately chaperoned. Lady Hester has her brother to look after her; Dimity and Prudence have each other; and I’m relying on you, Mr. Montrose, to keep your cousin safe.”

Celia coughed, swallowed at the same moment, and choked. “What about Jane?” she managed finally. “I’m certain she and I could act as each other’s duennas.”

“Jane will be overseeing everyone,” Lady Stone said crisply. “Along with Imogene, of course, if she can take her gaze off her betrothed.”

“Eh?” the bride said vaguely. “Did you speak, Aunt Lucinda?”

Lady Stone sighed. “No, dear. Enjoy yourselves, children–but not so much that I have to explain subsequent events to your parents.”

Chattering, the Carew sisters headed straight out the massive main door. On the gravel sweep in front of the house, a half-dozen grooms waited with horses already saddled.

Celia ran her gaze across the mounts, seeing a wide range of animals, from a neat little bay mare who seemed to dance in place under her sidesaddle to a big and placid gelding who was more interested in eating a potted plant than in prospective riders.

Dimity pointed at the bay mare. “That’s the one I want.”

The groom holding the mare shook his head. “Sorry, miss, but this one’s intended for Miss Overton–right, Mr. Montrose?”

Simon nodded. “Celia?”

She noticed a shilling pass smoothly from his hand to the groom’s, and then Simon helped her up into the saddle and took the reins of a rangy roan gelding for himself. Celia nudged the mare to the edge of the gravel to wait for the others to mount; Simon sidestepped the gelding over beside her.

She said tartly, “You can chaperone me from further than two feet away.”

“This is the appreciation I get for nabbing the best mare in the stable for you?” His voice was a low rumble. “You could have been stuck with that nag Billings is riding.”

She looked over the mounts again. “Lord Stone’s stable seems a bit thin–so thank you, Simon. But I can hardly further my goals by riding next to you when I might be charming one of the gentlemen. I hope you won’t feel it necessary to stick so very close. Or have you changed your mind about wanting me to win my bet? Are you trying to clip my wings?”

“If you prefer the company of the others, go ahead and run away from me.”

“I know better than to try,” she admitted. “You’re too good a horseman.”

“From sarcasm to flattery in mere moments. One might wonder why. Perhaps you’re feeling–let me guess–guilty?”

She bit her tongue, annoyed that he had read her so well, and tried for an airy tone. “Guilty over what? Not being properly gracious in expressing my gratitude?”

“Because you have some reason to feel guilty.”

“What are you yammering about, Simon?”

“Only yesterday you suggested I court the Carew sisters, but before the day was out they seemed to be courting me instead. I cannot help but ask why.”

“How modest you are!” Her voice sounded high and tinny. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Perhaps they listened to Jane–who thinks you’re quite handsome. Or they may have simply reconsidered their manners and decided to act like ladies.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever you did, Celia, it’s time to undo it.”

The line of horses moved down the long carriageway and under the oak trees. Lord Billings, riding the placid gelding, drew up beside her. “Would you care to ride beside me and chat, Miss Overton? I don’t believe in rushing around; I find galloping upsets my digestion.”

No wonder he’d started to argue that Lady Stone–and her chaise–should accompany them. Celia didn’t dare meet Simon’s gaze for fear of bursting into giggles.

But Simon didn’t try to catch her eye. He shifted his weight in the saddle and touched his heel to the roan’s flank, breaking into a canter which left Celia stuck with Lord Billings and feeling entirely bereft.

How utterly foolish, when she’d asked him to leave her alone!

But of course it wasn’t Simon abandoning her which made her feel so out of sorts. Her body ached with regret; she was so far in the wrong she could barely see daylight. What had possessed her to tell such a taradiddle, anyway?–much less convince herself that Simon wouldn’t notice? Of course he would catch her out; he had never been slow about adding together random bits and pieces and coming up with a full–and usually quite accurate–assessment.

But what was she supposed to do about it when she was stuck at the back of the line with Lord Billings, of all people?

****

The day was beautiful and bright, and their destination was a tumbledown abbey which stood atop a hill, overlooking a long green valley. The site had been so long abandoned that trees had grown up everywhere. Lush vines shrouded heaps of fallen stone and piles of dark red Tudor brick, making it difficult to tell where one ruined building ended and the next began. Enough of the carved stone cloister pillars remained, however, to define a space just right for strolling. An almost painfully-clear blue sky arched overhead.

A perfect day, in Celia’s estimation. At least it would have been if not for her own folly.

The two grooms who had accompanied the party helped the ladies to dismount near the cloister, taking the horses off to a makeshift paddock at the far side of the abbey, but the gentlemen rode on with them. Jane was apparently counting noses to be certain no one had disappeared, and Hester and Prudence wandered past a heap of stone and brick to where the view of the valley was unobstructed. Imogene and her betrothed had dawdled far behind even Lord Billings’ slow pace.

For a moment Celia found herself alone with Dimity. She knew she must seize the opportunity, for there might not be another chance when the gentlemen were not present to absorb attention.

But what to say?

So sorry about the bouncer I told yesterday, but Simon has the same chance of inheriting a title as Lord Stone’s cook does.

“It’s just as well you were stuck with that mare,” Dimity said. “She’s good-looking, but even with an excellent rider, she couldn’t have kept up with Lord Stone. I wonder why he keeps her.”

Even with a good rider?
If politeness hadn’t kept her jogging alongside Lord Billings, Celia and the mare would have been far in front, enjoying a wild run. The insult made her bones itch, but diplomacy was called for if she was to fix the mess she’d made yesterday.

Dimity glanced around as if to make certain they couldn’t be overheard. “It’s the oddest thing, but you were right. Hester
doesn’t
seem to know about Mr. Montrose.” She dropped her voice further. “His coming into a title, I mean.”

“You told her?” But what had Celia expected? It was far too good a tale not to share.

Dimity drew herself up and tossed her head. “Of course not. You said he prefers the matter not be discussed, so I did no more than hint–only to find out how much Hester knew, you see.”

“I beg you will forget I said anything at all. I should not have brought the matter up.”

“I only wish you hadn’t spoken in front of Jane and given her ideas. But you can count on Prudence and me not to let anything slip. My sister and I are excellent at keeping secrets.” Dimity’s eyes gleamed. “Particularly from Hester–and especially when it’s something she would very much enjoy knowing.”

Especially when they think it gives them an advantage in the marriage market. If I can’t convince her I was exaggerating, they’re still going to be after Simon, and he’ll be even more annoyed with me.

“I–Well…” Celia plunged in. “The truth of the matter is it’s a far more distant relationship than I implied yesterday.”

“You mean he’s
not
in line to inherit a title?”

“Not directly. I mean, I don’t really know how the thing stands, but…” Dimity’s eyes brightened, and Celia realized that kind of mealy-mouthed explanation wouldn’t do at all; she must extinguish all hope if the Carew sisters were to go back to treating Simon normally. “I’m certain the possibility is vanishingly small. Of course you can understand how embarrassing it would be for everyone if it were to be mentioned. I just hope my misstatement doesn’t lead to confusion about my cousin’s circumstances.”

“You mean you lied, and he’s not an eligible suitor after all.”

The flat statement struck Celia like a blow across the face. Not the part about her fabrication, for on the entire long ride she’d been regretting the crack in her character which had allowed her to go so far astray. But for Dimity to dismiss Simon coldly because a title was the only thing that mattered to her…

Perhaps it’s just as well she thinks as she does.
Simon deserved something far better than these title-hunting vixens, that much was certain.

“Mr. Montrose has many merits and good qualities,” Celia said stiffly, “even though a title is not one of them.”

She hadn’t seen Jane come up to them until the companion gave a polite little cough. “Shall we walk over to take in the view?”

Dimity strutted off to join her sister.

“I beg your pardon, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” Jane said. “That can’t have been an easy conversation.”

“I hope my overstatement will go no further. I was very wrong to say anything at all.”

Jane smiled. “Of course, my dear.”

Celia relaxed.
What a lovely young woman she is.
She wondered if Simon had noticed; he’d seen through the Carew sisters quickly enough. Jane would make an excellent wife for him, if he could just look past Lady Hester.

It would be a shame if Simon had indeed set his heart on Hester. Sadness rippled through her at the thought.

But it would be even worse if he were to marry Jane while Celia went home without an offer. Then she’d not only owe him five hundred guineas, but she’d never hear the end of it.

****

The ball Lady Stone had arranged in honor of the upcoming marriage was really too thin of company to be worthy of the name, with only a dozen couples taking the floor for the first country dance. Prudence complained about the small size of the orchestra, and Dimity fussed over the lack of dance cards.

Baron Draycott requested the pleasure of leading Celia out in the evening’s first country dance. His conversation at dinner–the first time they’d really talked–had been too shallow to let her assess the man, but at least he wanted to get to know her better. Not that dancing made things any easier; the steps of the country dance kept them apart more than together.

She looked down the row of dancers and saw that Simon was opposite Prudence, whose smile seemed to glow as she offered him her hands. Uneasiness swept through Celia and she missed her own cue.

The baron looked annoyed for an instant before he smiled and said, “It must be difficult to keep track of the dance when you’re not used to the figures.”

Celia, annoyed at once more being written off as a rube, forced her attention back to her own steps, circling and dipping with him, changing partners, swinging through the figures with only one other misstep–when she and Simon were partnered briefly.

“I thought I told you to fix it,” he said, but before she could answer the music swept him away once more.

The country dance was followed by a waltz, and from the corner of her eye, Celia saw Simon coming toward her. She studiously ignored him to smile invitingly at Lord Lockwood–but the earl led Dimity out instead.

Simon’s bow was polite, but his tone wasn’t. “It looks as though I’m your only option, Silly.”