The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(2)
Three fiancés and she had hardly tolerated any of them, never mind loved them. She’d only loved one man in her life but he, of course, did not love her. And that, perhaps, was the most humiliating thing of all. Henderson Southwell, entirely inappropriate and devastatingly handsome. She called him Henny, which irritated him hugely, and that, of course, was why she did it. To say he was her one love was a bit of an exaggeration, for she now recognized her feelings for what they had been: youthful infatuation. But goodness, her heart had sped up whenever she heard his voice and nearly jumped from her chest when she actually saw him. Ah, the tall, lean, dark, handsome glory of him. She’d known Henderson for years and had fallen in love with him when she was seventeen or perhaps even before. Perhaps she’d fallen in love with him on those quiet nights when they would talk in the library while the rest of the house was sound asleep. He was her brother Joseph’s closest friend, which delegated her immediately to that invisible moniker of little sister.
She hadn’t seen him in four years. He’d disappeared from society and no one, not even her other brother, Oliver, had seen or heard from him in years.
“He’s not the same as you remember, Allie,” her brother Oliver told her when she’d asked if Henny would be invited to her wedding—the first one. “Even if I knew where he was and could invite him, I don’t think he’d come.”
And he hadn’t; Alice hadn’t even known if he’d received the invitation. Nor had he accepted her invitation for the second hastily cancelled wedding. As for this last, Alice still had no idea where Henderson was, but as this was to be a small affair, he hadn’t been on the guest list at all. Just as well.
The carriage moved forward and Alice closed her eyes, relief flooding her that this day was over. When the carriage stopped with a startling jerk, she opened her eyes and gasped as Henderson Southwell, whom she hadn’t seen in more than four years, burst into her carriage and sat across from her and next to her sister as if he’d been expected.
“Shall I kill him for you?” Henderson asked blandly as he settled himself into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. His skin was tanned and she could see white lines that fanned out from his eyes from either smiling or squinting in the sun. His brown hair was nearly blond at the tips, and he was thinner than she remembered—and far handsomer.
“Henny. You weren’t invited, you know.” It gave her a small pleasure to not react to his completely unexpected appearance, other than that small gasp, which she wished she could have stifled.
“Wasn’t I?”
“No. You were not. You were, however, invited to the first two of my weddings.”
His dark brows rose as if in surprise. “You’ve been married twice already?”
“Oh, do stop teasing my sister, Mr. Southwell,” Christina said. “Hasn’t she been through enough this morning?”
Henderson turned to his right as if surprised to see someone sitting next to him. “Do not tell me this is little Christina.” He looked over to Alice as if for confirmation.
Christina beamed and Alice gritted her teeth. Henderson had always been able to charm; it was his greatest talent. When she was younger, she’d heard things, unsavory things, about Henderson that an unmarried girl should not hear. Affairs with married women, with widows, opera singers, actresses. Those rumors had nearly killed her when she’d been in the deepest throes of her crush on him. More than one of her friends had been warned away from him, and not just because of his lowly birth. His mother was a member of the landed gentry who’d had the misfortune of getting pregnant without the benefit of a marriage. This small fact had been quite titillating when Alice was a girl.
“I was just a child when we last saw you…” Christina’s voice drifted off as she realized when that was—her brother Joseph’s funeral. It was a terrible reminder of a dreadful time. The eldest of the four Hubbard children, Joseph had been the light of their family, the one who would sing loudly and purposely badly in the morning to wake everyone up. One couldn’t get angry with Joseph. In fact, the only time Alice had ever gotten angry with Joseph was after he’d died. Why had he been so reckless? Why had he left them alone?
Four children, two boys, two girls, Joseph the first born. The three younger children adored Joseph to the point of hero worship. When he died, falling off the roof of a school chum’s carriage house when Alice was just seventeen, he’d left an endless hole in the Hubbard family. Nothing had been the same ever since. Joseph used to play the piano, make his mother stand by his side to sing a duet. The joy in their house, the music, all ended the day Joseph died. Her father, his face filled with fathomless pain, had the piano removed from their home the day after his funeral.
Looking at Henderson made Alice’s heart hurt, for the two young men had been inseparable—except for that faithful night. Even though Alice had been wretched the day of her brother’s funeral, when she’d looked up and saw Henderson, eyes red-rimmed and staring blinding at the casket, she knew he was feeling the same pain as she. And then he’d disappeared. Until now.
Henderson shifted, the light in his striking blue eyes dimming momentarily before he grinned at her again. “You didn’t answer my question. Shall I kill Northrup or just make him suffer?”
Alice sighed. “Neither, I’m afraid.” She looked out the window at the row of elegant and neat houses that told her she was nearing her father’s home on St. James Square. “He was following his heart and I can hardly blame him for that.”