Silk And Seduction Bundle 2. Louise Allen

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СКАЧАТЬ felt towards her show at all; he was so charming towards her aunt and uncle, and on such very easy terms with Rick, that before long, she even began to wonder wistfully if, somewhere underneath all the finery and sarcasm she associated with Viscount Mildenhall, the Monty she had once admired so much might still survive.

      How differently she would feel towards this match, if he had approached her first as Monty, the hero of her girlhood dreams. If she could believe he was spiriting her away from London because he understood how badly she wanted rescuing!

      Instead of being determined to bury her in the countryside, and ‘keep her in line.’

      The next morning, Lady Callandar came bustling into the drawing room with her hands full of lists she must have sat up well into the night compiling.

      She wore a very smug smile as she offered the first one for Imogen’s inspection.

      ‘The guest list,’ she explained.

      ‘It is rather short,’ Imogen observed.

      ‘Yes,’ replied her aunt with relish. ‘It is going to be a very select gathering. Only family, and those who have shown themselves to be your friends. Oh,’ she breathed, ‘how I am going to enjoy withholding invitations from all those nasty-minded tattle-mongers who have snubbed you!’

      Imogen could not help smiling. She could just see her aunt dropping Viscount Mildenhall’s name into future conversations. And dispersing tidbits of information about the massively wealthy but reclusive Earl of Corfe’s country seat of Shevington, where, she would boast, her dear, dear niece now resided!

      ‘I include Mrs Leeming, and Lady Carteret, you see,’ she pointed out their names on the sheet of paper Imogen now held. Rick’s name had been included, as had that of Nicodemus Bredon, though he was but a humble lawyer’s clerk.

      ‘Lord Keddinton, it goes without saying, and his dear daughters, who have taken such pains on your behalf.’

      ‘And Lady Verity Carlow,’ Imogen nodded. ‘Yes, I should like to include her. She has always been truly kind to me.’

      ‘And she is Lord Keddinton’s goddaughter too. It would not do to offend a man like him by omitting a connection of his.’

      ‘Did you know her brother, that is Captain Carlow, is in town at the moment? He is a friend of Rick’s.’

      Her aunt pursed her lips. ‘That could lead to some awkwardness. If we invite the younger Carlow merely because he is in town, we shall have no option but to invite the oldest one too. You are aware that he has married,’ she swallowed, ‘Helena Wardale. The daughter of your mother’s…that is, your father’s—’

      ‘I know there may a little awkwardness,’ Imogen hastily put in, to spare her aunt from having to speak of her father’s gruesome murder or the part Helena’s father had played in it, ‘if she accepts the invitation to my wedding, but I truly hope she will come. She has done nothing for which she need be ashamed. It is not her fault that her father—’

      ‘Well,’ her aunt interrupted with false brightness before words like adultery, murder or execution could be uttered in her drawing room, ‘it is most commendable of you to take such a forgiving attitude. I am sure I would not like to be at odds with any of the Carlows—’ she lowered her voice and muttered ‘—no matter who they are married to.

      ‘There!’ she declared, adding the names to the list. ‘We shall invite them all.’

      Imogen did not think there was anything particularly commendable about her attitude. She just felt a strong sense of kinship with the daughter of the man who had been hanged for killing Kit Hebden. Though neither girl had anything to do with the crime, they had both lived under the shadow of scandal all their lives. True, Helena now had a place in Society again, but it was only as the wife of Marcus Carlow, Viscount Stanegate. Imogen had no idea what terrible fate might have befallen Helena’s older brother and sister who, to all intents and purposes, seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.

      And far from believing she had any forgiving to do, Imogen often wondered if Helena was the one who might bear a grudge against Amanda Herriard’s daughter. Helena had lost her father, her home and her position, because of that doomed love affair.

      The days until Imogen’s wedding flew by in a frenzy of organization. A Society wedding held at St George’s in Hanover Square, followed by a sumptuous reception for the select portion of Society who had merited an invitation, required a good deal of planning.

      And though there was not time to shop for a complete trousseau, Lady Callandar insisted she have just one new gown. She managed to get her modiste to conjure up a wedding dress that was a dreamy confection of soft creamy lace over an ivory satin underdress. Some poor seamstress must have sat up until all hours stitching on all the tiny seed pearls that decorated the snugly fitting bodice. The full-length, narrow sleeves ended in points, which came down over the backs of her hands, were also studded with seed pearls in a swirling design.

      ‘It is so lovely,’ Imogen said, wishing she could give her aunt a hug when she came into her room on the eve of her wedding, to check over all her lists one last time.

      ‘You really have worked miracles over these last few days, Aunt.’

      Lady Callandar signalled the maid who had come in behind her to deposit the tray on a console table by the door, before saying, with some satisfaction, ‘Yes. I have every confidence that even though we threw this whole thing together at the last minute, it will pass off smoothly.’ She dismissed the maid, took the glasses of rich ruby port from the tray, and carried them over to the bed, where Imogen was reclining.

      ‘I do not know how much your mother may have told you,’ she said, handing Imogen one of the glasses and perching on the edge of the bed, ‘about the Duties of a Wife.’

      Most people would think Amanda had told her young daughter far too much about what it was like to be married to a hell-raising rake. Imogen saw her mother as she had been during the last days of her life, her eyes glittering with pain as she catalogued every detail of her own disastrous marriage and begged her not to make the same mistakes.

      But she very much feared that was exactly what she had done. From the very first moment she had clapped eyes on him, she had thought Viscount Mildenhall the most compellingly handsome man she had ever seen. Even discovering what an unpleasant nature he had, had done nothing to quench the fizz that a mere glimpse of him could start running through her.

      And then he had kissed her.

      To such devastating effect, she had agreed to marry him. Oh, she might have told herself she was merely falling in with what everyone expected of her. But she had a niggling suspicion that there were plenty of selfish reasons for marrying him, too. She had been guilty, when he had dined with the family, of sneaking peeks at his handsome profile when she was sure nobody else was watching her. Letting her eyes linger on those full, red lips. Recalling the episode on the terrace. And experiencing a very strong wish to soothe the mark her teeth had put there. And when he had looked up from his plate, and their eyes had met, a thrill had shot right through her, rendering her breathless for several seconds.

      She could not even summon up the will power to dislike him any more. Even his arrogant assertion that he was a catch now only seemed like a bald statement of the truth. He could have married anyone he wanted! Yet he had, as a gesture of friendship to Rick, made the truly noble sacrifice of marrying a girl he did not like one bit.

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