Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas(24)

After giving Justin a barely civil nod, Curzon said, “Lady Westron has been wondering what happened to you, Miss Vangelder.”

Her face lit up at his words. “I was in no danger, Mr. Curzon,” she said, her voice proper but her eyes brimming with excitement. “I’m an avid gardener, you see, and Lord Justin very kindly showed me some of the lesser known parts of the park.”

In a careless tone that managed to imply that Justin was scarcely better than an under gardener, Curzon said, “You could not have chosen a better guide, for I’m sure that no one knows more about such matters than Lord Justin.” He offered Sunny his arm. "Now I shall take you to Lady Westron.”

Sunny turned to Justin and said with sweet sincerity, “Thank you for the tour, my lord. I enjoyed it very much.”

Yet as soon as she took Curzon’s arm, Justin saw that she forgot his existence. He watched them walk away together, two tall, blond, laughing people. They were like members of some superior race, set apart from the normal run of mankind.

For the first time in his life, Justin found himself resenting Gavin for having been born first. The Sunny Vangelders of the world would always go to men like Gavin or Curzon.

His aching regret was followed by deep, corroding anger. Damning himself for a fool, he turned and headed toward the house. Gavin’s fete could progress to its conclusion without him.





Chapter 2





Swindon Palace

Summer 1885





Justin stared out the study window at the dreary landscape, thinking that rain was appropriate for the day he had buried his only brother. After a gray, painful interval, a discreet cough reminded him that he was not alone. He turned to the family solicitor, who had formally read the will earlier in the afternoon. “Why did you ask to speak with me, Mr. Burrell?”

“Though I’m sorry to intrude at such a time, your grace,” the solicitor said, “there are several pressing matters that must be addressed without delay.”

Justin winced inwardly. Five days of being the ninth Duke of Thornborough was not long enough to accustom him to his new status. “I assume that you are going to tell me that the financial situation is difficult. I’m already aware of that.”

Another little cough, this one embarrassed. “While you are very knowledgeable about estate matters, there are, ah, certain other items that you might not know of.”

With sudden foreboding, Justin asked, “Had Gavin run up extensive personal debts?”

“I’m afraid so, your grace. To the tune of...almost a hundred thousand pounds.”

A hundred thousand pounds! How the devil had Gavin managed to spend so much? Justin wanted to swear out loud.

Seeing his expression, Mr. Burrell said, “It was unfortunate that your brother’s death occurred just when it did.”

“You mean the fact that he died while on his way to marry May Russell? It certainly would have been more prudent to have waited until after the wedding,” Justin said bitterly.

It would have been even more prudent if Gavin had stayed in the private Thornborough railway car. Instead, he had been taken by the charms of a French lady and had gone to her compartment. When the train crashed, the duke and his inamorata had both died, locked in a scandalous embrace. If Gavin had been in his own car, he would have survived the crash with scarcely a bruise.

Oh, damn, Gavin, why did you have to get yourself killed?

Justin swallowed hard. “Obviously drastic measures will be required to save the family from bankruptcy.”

“You could sell some land.”

“No!” More moderately, Justin said, “The land is held in trust for future generations. It should not be sold to pay frivolous debts.”

Burrell nodded, as if he had expected that response. “The only other choice is for you to make an advantageous marriage.”

“Become a fortune hunter, you mean?”

“It’s a time-honored tradition, your grace,” Burrell pointed out with dignity. “You have a great deal to offer a well-dowered bride. One of England’s greatest names, and the most magnificent private palace in Great Britain.”

“A palace whose roof leaks,” Justin said dryly. “Even as we speak, dozens of buckets in the attic are filling with water.”

“In that case, the sooner you marry, the better.” The solicitor cleared his throat with a new intonation. “In fact, Mrs. Russell hinted to me this morning that if you were interested in contracting an alliance with her, she would look with favor on your suit.”

“Marry my brother’s fiancée?” Justin said incredulously. He thought of how May had looked earlier at Gavin’s funeral, weeping copiously, her beautiful face obscured by her black mourning veil. Perhaps if he had looked more closely, he would have seen a speculative gleam in her eyes. “It’s hard to believe that even she would go to such lengths to become a duchess.”

“The lady implied that she has a certain fondness for you as well,” Burrell said piously.

“The lady has a deficient memory,” Justin retorted. It was May Russell who had first called him the Gargoyle. She had been demonstrating her wittiness. Even Gavin had laughed.

“She has a very large fortune under her own control,” the solicitor said with regret. “But I suppose you’re right, it would be unseemly for you to marry your brother’s betrothed. Do you have another suitable female in mind?”