What the Groom Wants (6 page)

“We’re not going to stay with your mother,” Wendy said, her words rushed.

He jolted. “What? Why ever not?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but her mother interjected first.

“Well, that’s wot I said. Why ever not, when it would be rude to refuse so kind an invitation?”

“But—” inserted Wendy with a glare at her mum, “I have found us a place now.”

“Temporary lodgings,” spat her mother as she rolled her eyes.

“Mrs. Lyncott’s home would be temporary as well,” said Wendy. “And there probably isn’t room for all our things either.”

Radley didn’t say anything, just watched the byplay with his bright copper eyes. Then he looked at her, his skin ruddy with embarrassment.

“I wanted you to stay with us,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t have minded a bit.”

“But your mother would. And…” Wendy shrugged. “It isn’t appropriate now.”

She saw his jaw clench, but he didn’t speak. He knew the truth as well as she did. Then he must have come to a decision because he gestured upstairs. “Is there more to be done? Lord Crowle and I can—”

“Oo-ee. Have a duke and an earl hauling our things about?” cried her mother loud enough so that everyone knew the offer had been extended. “Thank ye, no. We’ve got it all set now.” Then she grinned. “But you be sure to visit us when we’re all settled, won’t you? Wendy can give you the address. I can’t remember it for the life of me, but she says it’s nice.”

It was. Double the size of their current rooms, cleaner, and with a window as well to look out on the street. She feared once her mother saw the place, she wouldn’t ever want to leave.

Radley’s gaze was steady. “I should like that very much.”

She nearly blurted it out right then, but she was a practical woman. Or so she told herself. The difference in their station was too great. And besides, she had no desire to let him know how much she had fallen into Damon’s clutches. Not with the history between the two men. Damon had destroyed Radley’s sister—or tried to—and in the most heinous way imaginable. Radley would go insane if he found out Wendy was caught in the man’s clutches.

“You shouldn’t visit us,” she said, trying to speak low enough for him to hear, but not her mother. It wasn’t possible, and the woman soon planted her fists on her hips and glared at her daughter.

“Not appropriate?” she mocked. “When we’ve known him all his life? When he and Henry are the greatest of friends? When you’ve been such a good friend to his sister? Not appropriate? My girl, you have got to learn that some folks don’t forget their friends when they get a windfall.”

Inheriting a dukedom was a great deal more than a windfall, but Wendy didn’t bother arguing. Instead, she looked at Lord Crowle and saw the sympathy in his eyes. At least this man knew she was trying to do the right thing. A break between her and Radley was inevitable. And a sudden break would be easier than a slow, torturous separation.

But Radley would have none of it. He simply shook his head. “My family owes you a great deal, Miss Drew,” he said formally. “I would very much like to call on you in the near future, and it’s a great deal easier at your home than at your place of business.”

A great deal more discreet, she supposed. But she still didn’t speak. At which point, he sighed and looked about. “Where’s Henry? He can’t keep a secret for love or money.”

That was true enough. Which made it fortunate that her older brother was nowhere to be seen. “He’s been gone since yesterday evening.” She frowned. “I thought he was looking for you.”

Radley frowned then rubbed his forehead. It likely ached something terrible. “Oh yes. I remember.” Then he flushed a ruddy red. “He found me. But I lost track of him…”

Wendy was glad he stopped speaking. She didn’t want to know what brothel the men had ended up in. Meanwhile, Lord Crowle took that moment to tilt his head to the bells ringing in the distance.

“I don’t mind standing here, Radley,” he said in a low voice, “but if there’s nothing to be done, you do have concerns elsewhere.”

Radley nodded, his expression frustrated. “Very well.” He turned to smile at her mother. “Mrs. Drew, I look forward to calling on you another day.” Then he turned his gaze to her. “And Miss Drew, I shall call on you at the dress shop. Four o’clock exactly, so that we can have that walk in the park you promised.”

She gasped. “We can’t go to Hyde Park now! Not with you a new duke and me…”

“You what?” he asked. His voice was deceptively soft. He was angry, though few would realize that until it was too late. It was only because she’d seen him at the worst time of his life that she knew how he went quiet when angry, not loud like most men. “What are you, Miss Drew, that you refuse to be seen with me?”

She huffed. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”

“I know that we arranged to walk this afternoon, and I will not be denied.” Then his gaze softened, taking on a more appealing cast. “Wind, please. I… I wish to see you. And I need something quiet. Do you understand? A simple walk in the park together.”

There was nothing simple about a new duke walking in Hyde Park. Not during the fashionable hour. But she would pray that most of the
ton
wouldn’t recognize him yet. In truth, this was perhaps the last time they could do such a thing before he became too prominent to walk unmolested in the park. “Do not dress any differently,” she said, eyeing his worn seaman’s clothing. It was neat, and the coat emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, but it wasn’t remotely appropriate for a duke.

“I won’t change a thing,” he said. “I swear.”

Lord Crowle released a snort. “What if he spills his tea and gets a stain on his sleeve? He’d have to change then, wouldn’t he? Or worse yet, these London streets can be treacherous. He could fall and get a tear.”

The man was teasing, pointing out the ridiculousness of her order. What woman demanded a man
not
dress to see her? But Wendy simply lifted her chin in challenge. “Even better. I like all my callers to sport tears. How else can I show off my stitching skills?”

Lord Crowle sobered, his expression turning gentle. “It won’t fadge, you know. He’ll be recognized—”

“I’ll be at the dress shop at four on the dot,” interrupted Radley. “And in the meantime, tell Henry exactly what I think of a man who leaves his mother and sister to pack up their home without his aid.”

He didn’t have to explain further. He had always called Henry to task for a certain lack of industriousness. It wasn’t that Henry was lazy. Far from it, actually. But on land, the man was never out of bed before noon. And as it was just before eleven, Wendy hadn’t expected her brother to help.

“He’ll be the one unpacking,” she said, hoping it was true.

Radley’s eyes darkened. “And who helps you, Wind? When your shoulders droop and your eyes squint against the sun?” He took a step forward, his words dropping to a near whisper. “I have never seen you so tired, and it worries me.”

She blinked. He was worried about her? The knowledge hit her broadside. The man was now a duke, and he had come here expecting to help her move in with his mother. It was insane, and yet, here he was, looking at her in a way that made her heart tremble and her blood heat.

“Radley,” she whispered, speaking as she had on that awful night so many years ago. “Radley, we must both walk forward, one step after another, the best way we know how.” They were the exact words she’d said so long ago, and she saw him startle. He remembered what she had done.

“So, I am to trust that you are strong enough to do what needs to be done?”

She had said the words to him ten years ago, and now she nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t.”

Two words, spoken flatly, and she stiffened at the insult. “It worked out just how it ought.”

He nodded. “Back then, perhaps. But I have seen too much to believe that we are solitary creatures, happier alone.”

She frowned, not understanding what he could possibly mean. “Your grace,” she said, purposely using his formal title. It made him wince, but he did not react beyond that. “What are your intentions?”

His lips curved in a slow smile. “To cease being a solitary creature. I am tired of it, as I suspect are you.”

She all but laughed. “You are one day returned, and you know all about me?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t give him the time. “Men,” she answered quickly. “That’s who tire me: men who think they know me.” Then she gestured to the cart. “I need to go.”

He bowed as he backed away, but his fingers seared where he brushed his hand against hers. “I will see you at four, Miss Drew.”

She wanted to argue, but she could see the stubbornness in his eyes. In the end, she gave in to the inevitable with a slow, reluctant nod. In truth, she wanted to go. She wanted to walk through Hyde Park on his arm. To laugh together as they once had years ago.

She was on the verge of saying something gracious and happy. Something that would let him know she wasn’t as reluctant as she appeared. But then, she chanced to see Lord Crowle’s face. He stood to the side, listening intently to every word.

And he was shaking his head as if this whole thing was a very bad idea.

Wendy was ready at a quarter to four. She pretended that she was spending her time inspecting Tabitha’s work. She cast a critical eye over everything and made sure to scowl at least twice. But the truth was that Tabitha was learning quickly. And now that she had new glasses, her stitches were as neat as Wendy’s. Neater, actually, as the girl wasn’t chronically exhausted.

“Well done, Tabby,” she finally said.

“What?” the girl gasped.

Wendy was a little startled. After all, the poor girl looked like she’d been poleaxed. “You’ve done a good job. No need to look like the devil just nipped your nethers.”

Tabitha stared at her, then flushed bright red. It took a moment for Wendy to realize the effect of her colorful language. For all that she’d been working to elevate her speech patterns, her time in the gaming hells had affected her. She’d never have said something like that a year ago.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling her face heat. “I’ve been out of sorts lately. And I haven’t been talking to you as I ought.” She pointed to a complicated dress pattern that the girl had done to perfection. “This is beautiful work, and you should know that I’ve noticed.”

Tabby nodded, then abruptly blurted out her question. “Where do you go? You’ve been missing at all hours, and I think it’s hurting you.”

That’s what came from complimenting an assistant. Gave them all sorts of uppity ideas about what they could say. She took a breath to lambaste the girl, but stopped long enough to study her assistant. She didn’t see challenge in Tabby’s eyes. What she saw was honest worry, and that startled Wendy enough that she could hold back her words.

“It is hurting me,” she finally admitted. “But it’ll be done in just a few weeks. Then everything will get back to normal.”

“But where—”

Wendy cut her off with a glare. “Don’t you be asking things you have no business knowing. And if you stand around jabbering, I’ll think you don’t have enough work.”

That was enough for Tabby. She ducked her head and rushed to her table where she began plying her needle and thread. Wendy would have exhaled in relief, but another voice cut through her peace. It was Helaine, the designer and co-owner with Wendy of A Lady’s Favor dress shop.

“You needn’t tell her,” Helaine said, “but perhaps you would speak with me.” She stepped into the room, her elegant gown and serene expression at odds with the determination in her eyes. “I’ve just made a pot of tea. Would you care to join me in the front room?”

She phrased it as a question, but there was no doubt she intended to have this conversation with Wendy now. Wendy couldn’t, not with Mr. Lyncott due any moment.

“I owe you an explanation,” she said, “but couldn’t it wait a couple hours? Please?”

Helaine gave her a steady look, and for a moment, Wendy thought she’d get a reprieve. But it only took one long breath before she realized how wrong she’d been.

“You needn’t speak at all, Wendy,” her friend said, “but I have some things to say.” Then she turned and went into the sitting room. It was a lovely area designed to put ladies at ease as they looked at pattern books. Helaine would usually sit with them, looking at one or another while she sketched suggestions for each customer based on their discussion.

And just as the workroom was predominately Wendy’s area, this place was all Helaine. In fact, it felt more like a countess’s drawing room than the front of any shop. Which, she supposed, was appropriate, as Helaine was now Lady Redhill.

“Helaine—” Wendy began, but her friend shook her head as they sat. Then she poured the tea as regally as a queen. It was only after she had served Wendy, then herself, that she sat back and regarded her friend.

“I’m worried about you,” she said baldly. “Your hours have been irregular, even before I got married. The orders are backing up, and you look exhausted all the time. I keep waiting for you to confide in me. I thought that eventually you would tell me or work it out on your own.”

“And I am!” Wendy shot back, her anger rising, even though she knew Helaine was simply worried. “In a few weeks’ time—”

“And then there was Claire’s walking dress.”

She frowned, trying to place the gown. “Claire Wickett? I finished that two days ago.”

Helaine nodded. “Yes, I know. And here it is.” She twisted in her seat and pulled out the cream and gold day gown from a basket beneath the table. She stood as she held it up, shaking it slightly so that the skirt fell cleanly before her.

Except it didn’t fall neatly. It bunched bizarrely on the side. Helaine shook it a few more times for emphasis, which was when Wendy realized the horrible truth. She had stitched the gown wrong. Not only wrong, but misshapen enough to ruin the fabric.

“What happened?” she gasped as she stood to inspect the gown.

“Happened?” Helaine challenged. “Do you think this was an error in pressing? Wendy, look!”

Wendy was looking, and no, she hadn’t thought that the mistake was anyone’s but her own. But even staring at the evidence, she couldn’t believe she had done such a thing. She hadn’t sewn anything this badly since… ever. Even as a child, she’d been meticulous about her work. She inspected the seams and the fabric. It was possible she could salvage the material. Possible, but not likely—certainly not well enough for the standards of this shop.

“I knew the order was late,” she said to herself. “I stayed up all night finishing it.” She swallowed. Everything was late, and she’d felt bad about working on orders from their titled ladies before other women like Miss Claire Wickett. So she’d come in after working for Damon and would not let herself leave until the gown was done.

As she stood staring at her disastrous handiwork, the bell over the door rang and in walked Mr. Lyncott. He was whistling as he entered, and his first sound when seeing them was to shift his tune to a long, low note.

“That dress doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s not,” Wendy said miserably, while Helaine whisked it out of sight. Then she stepped forward with a cool smile.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid you’ve entered the wrong shop. We’re a ladies’ dress—”

“He’s in the right place, Helaine,” Wendy said, wondering how she would explain this. Radley wanted to take their walk. But after seeing what she’d done to that dress, she knew she had to check every gown she’d done in the last week at least.

Meanwhile, Radley was grinning, happier than she’d seen him in years. “You look very pretty, Miss Drew. Very pretty indeed.”

Wendy flushed in embarrassment at being courted in front of Helaine, and at a moment when she felt so wretched. But she couldn’t deny that Radley’s words set her heart to fluttering. What a missish girl she’d turned out to be.

“Helaine, please allow me to introduce Mr. L—um, no it’s not that anymore, is it? Helaine, this is the Duke of Bucklynde. Your grace, this is my very good friend Lady Redhill.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” he said as he executed a florid bow. Wendy couldn’t help but feel her spirits lighten at the sight. He was being playful.

Meanwhile, Helaine started at the introduction, her gaze scanning his seaman’s attire. “The Duke of… oh! Oh, you’re the
new
duke! Oh goodness, everyone’s talking about you.”

He flashed her a rueful glance. “Yes, so I’ve gathered.”

Then Helaine flushed. “Oh, forgive me. My wits have gone begging.” She dropped into a proper curtsy. “I am pleased to meet you, your grace.”

“I am never going to get used to people calling me that. ‘Grace’ is a girl we knew as children. Remember her, Miss Drew? Bucktoothed—”

“And a lisp, but the sweetest girl. Yes, I remember.”

“Whatever happened to her?”

“Married a sailor, had three children, and not one is cursed with her teeth.”

He clapped his hands. “Well, that’s excellent then. Sailor’s wives are a lucky lot, aren’t they?”

She picked up the rhythm of his joke without thought. “Best husband is one that’s gone.”

They laughed, Helaine included. “Obviously, you two are well acquainted,” she said.

Radley answered. “We grew up as neighbors. Her brother and I went to sea together twelve years ago. And Wind here has been a good friend to my sister, Caroline.” Then he grinned at Wendy. “Did I tell you? Caroline’s engaged to be married. To a Scottish lord, no less. The same fellow she’s been housekeeper to these last few years.”

Wendy gaped, her breath whooshing out in stunned surprise. “Truly? That’s wonderful! That’s…” She had no other word than “wonderful.” After the events of twelve years ago, Wendy didn’t think Caroline would ever marry. “How did it happen?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea. Haven’t seen her yet. Spent all day with solicitors. And thank Heaven for Lord Crowle. If it weren’t for him, I’d have drowned for sure.”

Helaine blinked. “You were with Lord Crowle?”

“Yes. He’s son-in-law to my employer, Mr. Knopp of—”

“Knopp Shipping. Yes. His daughter Irene is our purchaser here. I know them both well.” Then she stopped speaking to look between the two of them. “And you have come here to—”

“Take Miss Drew on a walk about Hyde Park. She promised yesterday, and I mean to collect.”

Wendy sighed. “I would like to but—”

His face fell. “Wind, you can’t cancel. I have so much to tell you!”

She shook her head, feeling pulled in too many directions at once. It was too much. She didn’t know where to turn.

“Is it because of the dress?” he asked softly.

Her gaze jerked to his, startled to see understanding on his face. Then she chided herself. Of course, he understood. He’d worked all his life. He knew what a badly done dress could mean to a seamstress. This was her livelihood and, at times, the only thing that had kept her sane.

“I’m sorry—” she began, but Helaine interrupted her.

“No, no. I can see that you two have a great deal to talk about.” Her voice was calm, her expression neutral. Wendy looked at her with suspicion.

“But I can’t—”

“You can,” she said firmly, “but not for terribly long. We still have a great deal to discuss.”

Wendy sighed. If she knew Helaine, the woman would pick at her until she had the full story—Demon Damon and all.

“Excellent!” cried Radley. Then he held out his arm and walked her to the door. “So did all your things get moved without incident? No broken crockery?”

Wendy shrugged. “I believe so. Henry arrived soon after you left, then he and Mama went to the new rooms. I came here.”

They were nearly out the door, but Helaine’s question stopped them. “Wendy, wait! What has happened?”

She’d forgotten that no one else knew of her change in residence. She hadn’t told anyone because she didn’t want them to know she was living in Demon Damon’s building.

Meanwhile, Radley answered the question. “She’s been forced out of her rooms. Cagey thing, according to Lord Crowle. Said he’d look into it for you. Find out the real reason you were tossed out so summarily.”

“What?” gasped Wendy. “No! I—he—” Bugger it, this was a mess! Certainly, she wanted to know the real reason they’d been thrown out, but she didn’t want her friends even more embroiled in this disaster. “I will see to it!”

Silence met Wendy’s cry, and it didn’t take long to realize what had happened. In one explosive outburst, she had shown that the situation was absolutely
not
under control. And that she was unraveling more every second.

“Well,” Radley finally said, his voice congenial despite the steel beneath his words. “It seems we both have a lot to discuss on our walk.”

Helaine’s eyebrows went up, but she said nothing. Neither did Wendy. Not because she didn’t have words. She had plenty. Words like “stay out of it” and “I know what to do!” But of course, she’d been saying that for months now, and it seemed as if everything was getting worse.

“It will all be resolved in a month’s time, I swear,” she said. At least, she expected it would. Or she hoped.

Then Radley turned her so that she was forced to look into his face. His expression was sober, but his eyes shone as he looked at her. In them, she saw confidence and strength. All the things that she so needed. In truth, they were the primary reasons she was drawn to Demon Damon. And yet, here she saw the same qualities in an entirely different man.

Radley touched her cheek, the gesture so intimate and just what she craved. “We will take our walk now, Wind, and you will tell me everything.”

She bit her lip. “There isn’t much to tell. You already know we had to move.”

“You are creating too much chop, Miss Drew.”

She blinked. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means, dear Wind, that I believe you are the one who will be talking first.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but was stopped by Helaine, who had joined them at the door. “And after you are done talking to him, you will return here and we will finish our tea.”

Which meant that Helaine would demand to know all as well. Wendy sighed.

“And with all this talking, no one will be sewing the dresses.”

“As to that,” Helaine said with a grin. “Tabitha has been teaching me. I believe I shall be able to help.”

“Oh lord,” Wendy moaned. She turned to Radley. “This needs to be a short walk. A very, very short—”

Helaine waved them out with a laugh. “I knew that would bring you back here, if only to stop me from destroying a gown.”

***

Radley stayed silent as they walked along the London street. Approaching someone in trouble was a delicate situation. No telling how that person would react, and Wendy was pricklier than most. So he held his tongue and let her relax, feeling the sunshine and the novelty of simply walking without any objective other than enjoying the day.

He was sure it was a novelty for her, almost as much as it was for him. If he guessed right, she was always running from one place to another, from one task to another disaster. And whereas he knew the value of thanking God for a fair day, his quiet walks had always been on deck, never in a clogged metropolis. So together, they simply wandered and let the tensions drop into the sunshine.

“This is lovely,” she eventually said. “I cannot remember the last time I just walked.”