Spending Christmas in Hell (Diamonds of London #8)

Chapter Five

December 18, 1818

Dashfield House

Manchester Square, Mayfair

London, England

Bloody bloody hell. Today is my wedding day.

Timothy rubbed a hand along the side of his face as he stood in his drawing room. At least the sun had decided to shine today. For the past two days, they’d had rain that changed to snow and back to rain again, and in that time, he’d thought nonstop about what this mad decision would mean for him personally as well as the direction of his life.

Though he didn’t expect many guests to the nuptial ceremony, cool relief twisted down his spine when Hugh came into the room with his wife and daughter. While the ladies settled themselves on a low sofa, his best friend joined him at the windows.

“Please tell me this is some sort of horrible joke,” Hugh said in a whisper. “You are having me on, aren’t you?”

“I am not.” The fact he’d only told Hugh yesterday served as a testament to there being no time to do the thing up properly.

The day before yesterday, he’d called on Miss Athercrombe as he’d promised, and also as he’d promised, he made certain she had a decent meal and that she’d eaten her fill of said offerings. Afterward, they’d toured some shops on Brook and Bond Streets, but she adamantly refused to let him buy her a gown before they were wed. She’d said she would find something to wear for the ceremony in what she already owned. But he’d made her promise that she would engage a modiste once they were officially married.

If there was one thing he would remain adamant about it was taking care of her.

“All right.” Hugh laid a gloved palm on the window glass. “Then because I am your best friend, I feel the need to counsel you on this outrageous decision.”

Timothy nodded. “I assumed that you would.” And he steeled himself for the argument.

“When did you meet this woman?”

“Three days ago, when I went to collect the rent from her.”

Hugh harrumphed. “And you decided that since she couldn’t pay, you’d just marry her?” He shook his head. “Do you realize how insane that sounds?”

“Well yes, but—”

“You don’t even know this woman.” Incredulity rang in the statement.

Timothy frowned. “Neither did you know your wife when you married Felicity, and that ended well enough.” In fact, the two of them were still very much in the honeymoon stage of their marriage, which made it a bit of a trial to be in their company.

“That was altogether different.”

“Was it?” He narrowed his gaze. “I rather think it wasn’t.”

Hugh shook his head. “I suspect you feel sorry for her because she is living a hard life.”

“That might have been part of my decision to offer for her, but there’s something about Miss Athercrombe that I can’t explain.” He paused to think over his next words, but there wasn’t much to say. “My father and grandfather used to buy clocks and watches from her father. So that is something, right?”

“Barely.” The other man blew out a breath. “You’re marrying her out of guilt, then.”

“No, of course not. There is nothing for me to feel guilt over.” Well, there was, but he chose to ignore that. “However, there is a spark…”

“Do stop.” Hugh snorted. “That is less than a connection, my friend. If you do this, you’ll be dooming yourself to failure.”

“I beg to differ.” Hot anger stabbed through his chest, and he didn’t quite know why. Yet if it helped him make his own sense out of this potential disaster, he would continue. “Why is it so wrong for me to marry a stranger when you did the same not long ago? And you did it despite counsel from me, I might add.”

“Fair enough.” Hugh’s expression softened. “I tell you this as a friend, though. There was more between Felicity and me than what you share with Miss Athercrombe now.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Was he right? Aside from a few heated tingles and his shaft showing a bit of interest in her, was there anything else there?

“Good God, man, just think!” Hugh threw up an arm and then let it drop to his side in exasperation. “The attraction between Felicity and me was instant and always brewing beneath the surface. It was always in the back of my mind.” One of his dark eyebrows coked in question. “Have you even kissed Miss Athercrombe?”

Heat crept up the back of his neck. “Not a proper kiss, no. Just a very brief one two days ago when she accepted the proposal.” As he paused, Timothy frowned. “But I would be remiss if I didn’t say there was something about her eyes, something I spied deep in those cool emerald depths.”

Shock mixed with speculation in Hugh’s expression. “Then you will marry a woman because of her eyes? You are heading for hell, surely, for once you marry, you are stuck with a woman if things spoil between you.”

Of course he’d thought about that. “My union won’t spoil.”

Hugh snorted again. “How do you know? You, who has had no desire to marry for as long as I’ve known you.”

“There is that.” Timothy nodded and ignored the lingering heat consuming his neck. “I don’t know, but I’m not one to worry or fret over an outcome without having all the facts. Because the engagement only happened two days ago and since I don’t know Miss Athercrombe all that well, I don’t have those facts.” He narrowed his gaze. “We will see how things go, and if they aren’t working, we will course correct as many times as it takes.”

“Until you both give up?” When he didn’t answer, Hugh continued. “What if you find she’s vastly unsuited for you or your life?”

“Then she is.” He shrugged. “She can live at my country estate with my mother, or I will buy her a cottage somewhere. If being apart is the only way to make my new wife happy, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Why?” Hugh was once more incredulous. “Why? It makes no sense.”

“Perhaps not to you, but I take comfort in the fact that I rescued her from certain humiliation and a life of horrors, perhaps an early death.” At least that is what he wished to believe. “I will give her whatever she needs in order to live a happy or at least a secure life.”

“And you accused me of being weak during this time of year,” Hugh said in a soft voice. He shook his head. “What of her home, her father’s shop?”

“It will be sold. She needn’t go back there, and after all, there is still her father’s loan that needs paid back.” With a wry glance, he regarded his best friend. “I can’t overlook or forgive the debt. Business is business. I have a responsibility to the counting house and everyone it employs.”

For long moments Hugh stared at him as if he wished to puzzle him out. “What of your wish to start a family? You have mentioned that to me once before albeit months ago.”

“If children are not part of this plan, I will need to make peace with that.” He nodded, yet a cloud of sadness sank down upon him. “I am sure there are other things that will fulfil me if carnal visits do not evolve from my marriage.” He was no stranger to being able to procure a mistress when needed. “It is enough to know that with this union, I have given Miss Athercrombe back her dignity and her hope.”

“But—”

“No.” Timothy held up a hand to ward off a lecture. “Perhaps she will wish for more than a marriage in name only because of that latitude, that chance, but she will be safe and won’t need to worry or scrounge for food.” Briefly, he explained the state she’d been living in when he’d found her.

“There is that.” For long moments, Hugh regarded him. Finally, he nodded, and his expression softened. “I’m proud of you. Sometimes what we do at the counting house is wretched work. This proves you can overcome that and still see the good in people. I was beginning to wonder if we’d made a mistake in working together, for as the days went by, you became more hardened and dare I say heartless?”

“It is a living, Hugh. If we don’t take in coin, we don’t make coin.”

“True.” His friend dropped a hand on his shoulder. “I believe we might need to practice a bit more compassion than we currently do, though.”

Timothy blew out a breath. A few more guests had entered the room, people employed at the counting house along with a couple of his acquaintances from his club as well as a botany professor he’d met a year or so ago. Perhaps it was a testament to how little friends he actually had, but then, if he wasn’t with Hugh, he tended to stick around home. “We shall talk about it after the Christmastide holidays.” Then a rustle of fabric at the open double doors drew his attention. A gasp escaped him as the butler escorted Miss Athercrombe into the room. “Bloody hell.”

She paused a few steps into the room, whether from hesitation and fear or if she wished for him to have a look at her, he couldn’t say, but he couldn’t stop staring. Her black hair had been caught back in a loose chignon and secured with a pair of tortoiseshell combs. The gown was as plain as the dress she’d worn two days ago, but the deep emerald color suited her skin tone and made her eyes almost gleam. The bodice wasn’t low enough to tantalize him with an excessive amount of cleavage, and that was a crime unto itself, but she wore a simple string of pearls that drew his attention to her slender neck. Twin spots of color blazed on her pale cheeks, and he rather liked that life in her face. In short, she was an understated beauty.

Like the first time he’d seen her, a spark jumped between them when her gaze met his and she resumed her walk toward him.

“Well, she cleans up nicely,” Timothy said in a barely audible whisper.

“Oh?” Hugh turned about and bounced his gaze between them with a cheeky grin. “She does indeed. Somehow, I think if the two of you wish to keep your union in name only, that will be a different kind of hell and of your own making.”

“What?” Truly, he was confused, but then he had trouble concentrating just now.

“Perhaps I spoke out of turn, but I have a feeling you’ll discover the truth for yourself soon enough. And don’t forget my dinner party on the twenty-fourth. Small and intimate, to usher in Christmas, if you both wish to come as a distraction, I’d welcome you.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk it over with Miss Athercrombe.”

When Hugh turned back to her, he nodded. “Good morning, Miss Athercrombe. I am Mr. Ridgeway, Sir Timothy’s best friend, so if you ever wish to know the truth about him, please come to call.” With a wink, he moved away and went to sit with his family.

Then he was alone with his soon-to-be wife.

“Good morning,” Timothy greeted, and then was suddenly tongue-tied as the scent of roses and sunshine wafted to his nose.

“Hullo, Sir Timothy.” Those three words held the hint of tears, and her eyes were luminous. I’m afraid I don’t know how I should act or feel on a morning such as this.”

Clearly, she was nervous. He nodded. “I quite understand. It is not every day two people decide to wed.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Especially like this.”

“Indeed.” He glanced at Hugh, who gave him a smug grin. With a huff, he rested his attention back on her. “You are lovely today.”

“I’m smart enough to say that I don’t quite believe you. This gown is three years old and a bit too loose in places.”

“Because you starve yourself for others.”

“I don’t plan to change that aspect of my life.” She blew out a breath that ruffled a few curls on her forehead. Her scoff was on the quiet side. “My father always told me I was born to wear expensive gowns, and Lord knows he spoiled me with them during the good times. When tears welled in her eyes, she blinked them away. “This and one other are all I have left of those gowns; I didn’t need them after he… after he lost his savings.” She shrugged and the gown slipped slightly on one shoulder. “I hope it’s good enough for the ceremony.” The waver in her Irish brogue tightened his chest.

“Of course it is. You look as if you have always belonged in the ton .”

“I have a feeling you are good at lying, Sir Timothy, out of necessity.” But she gave him a small smile. “When I was a young girl, I desperately wanted a silver dress like one I’d seen on a rich lady sometime after we had moved to London. It looked like moonbeams, and I adored it.”

“Did you tell your father you wanted it?”

“Yes, but Papa said we didn’t have the coin for such fripperies, for he was building his business. Maybe someday I could have it.”

“But you never got that dress.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. Even though he made certain I was launched into society years later, we lived modestly and such a gown in rich fabrics—lame and silk with glass beads instead of cheap spangles—weren’t possible for me.” Once more, she shrugged. The tears were gone, so talking apparently helped her. “I’ve never forgotten that gown.”

“Perhaps you’ll have it. Your life is not yet gone, Miss Athercrombe.” He took her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Your gown is completely appropriate. I’ll wager you’ll not forget this morning.”

“I will not.” She held his gaze for a few seconds more than was appropriate, and he felt that odd connection all the way down in his soul.

“If you wish to change your mind, I will withdrawal my proposal.” After all, if she felt as if she would be trapped in a prison, he didn’t want that.

“Um…” The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a hard swallow. “I have had two days to think about this swift engagement and what the marriage will mean.”

“And?” His nerves crawled as he waited for her answer.

“And you are partially correct in that I don’t have any other options at the moment, but since I don’t wish to go through my father’s possessions and choose which ones to sell and which ones to keep, this is the best alternative.” A growl of her stomach punctuated the point. “I need you as much as you need me at this time.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, I rather think this will be good for both of us.” It was nothing more than a business transaction, wasn’t it?

“I will admit I hadn’t given much thought to what I was personally needing while burying myself into my charity, but I am not too proud that I can’t say it will be lovely to have someone about to save me from talking to the walls.” She shot him a glance that brimmed with surprising curiosity. “Do you have a library here? My mother taught me and my brother to read early on in our lives.” Her voice broke. “But she died before she knew how much I adored escaping into stories.”

It made sense, since she’d referenced fairytales in the conversation before she’d accepted his suit. This was the first time she’d spoken of a brother, though. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

“I do. I’m an avid reader and try to keep a decent mix of literature available at any given time.” Would this be common ground for them? “You are welcome to make use of it whenever you feel the urge. Nothing is off limits.”

Surprise filled her eyes. “Thank you. Though I loved my father, he said too much time reading books would prevent me from finding a man.”

“Clearly, that has been proved wrong.” Not that they were in love or would enjoy a traditional union, but that didn’t matter.

“Sir Timothy?”

Timothy’s attention was wrenched away. He looked at a tall thin man in a somber black suit. The man possessed a terrific head of thick, blond hair and a pair of bright hazel eyes. “Can I assume you are the minister?”

“I am. Mr. Tate, and this is my clerk, Mr. Smith.” He held a worn leather-bound Book of Common Prayer . “Performing nuptial ceremonies is one of the joys in my life.”

“Welcome, and thank you for coming.” He flicked his gaze to the shorter, slightly more stout young man who had a shock of brown hair that stuck stubbornly up at the back of his head. “You may have use of the tables at the rear of the room for the registry if you’d like.”

“Thank you.” The younger man nodded at him then loped across the room with his leather folio.

Mr. Tate cleared his throat. “Have all your guests arrived, then?”

“Yes. It is a small gathering.” Would she assume that since he didn’t have many friends that he was less than desirable as a husband?

“No matter. Large or small, the number of witnesses doesn’t matter, for a union is a union nonetheless.” The minister included them both in his smile. “Shall we begin?”

“Best get to it, I suppose,” Timothy said in a soft voice. He offered his crooked arm to her. “Ready?”

Slowly, she nodded. “I would like this over sooner rather than later.” Then her stomach growled, and a blush stained her cheeks. “Also, I am rather famished.”

He huffed as she placed her fingers upon his arm. Where the devil were her gloves? Did she not have any? “Which is one of the reasons we are here this morning.” Then he followed Mr. Tate over toward the fireplace where cheerful flames danced behind a plain metal grate. “Whenever you are ready, Mr. Tate.”

Please let this not be the disaster Hugh assumes it will.