Miranda put her hand gently upon Hero's shoulder and pressed lightly but firmly. "Tell me that you do not love Arthur and I will see this ceremony never takes place."
Her throat dry as dust, Hero stared at her sister. She must make herself tell the lie, or she would regret it forever after "I . . ."
Miranda sighed. "You love him." She paused and then shook her head. "I am sorry that he has not shared similar feelings with you, but he is a man and he felt obligated to the Delagrace girl before. Now his obligation to you comes first. He is willing to marry you, declarations of love aside."
Willing to marry. Declarations of love aside. How noble of him. Hero simply could not allow this to happen. "I — "
Miranda pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. "You will marry him." Her command had all the force and majesty of a true duchess. "You will love him, as you have for so long already."
"But he — "
Miranda shook her head. "Useless worry, Hero. Time will determine whether he loves you or not. I am certain that he will treat you well, no matter whether he feels a touch of regret for the marriage."
That stung. Thinking of Arthur harboring regrets, yet behaving with perfectly husbandly grace. No doubt he would. Which meant that she would have to be the temperate wife, expressing no love of her own except the most gentle and responsible kind. It did not sound like the marriage of her dreams.
Hero was late to the altar. As he stood, waiting to take his vows, Arthur wondered if she had run away. He could see Digby among the wedding guests, so at least she had not eloped with Arthur's rival. She had fought the idea of marrying him much too strongly for his comfort. And yet he still felt a touch of pleasure himself that he would have her for a wife. If she had not run away.
Miranda came into the chapel, with a rushed and harried air. She whispered to the duke, and Arthur braced himself for the bad news. He could not help a brief thought of how Digby's leonine head would lift when he heard the news that Arthur had been jilted by his bride.
His cousin approached him. The duke's voice was low, barely audible. "Apparently your bride has forgotten the pearls she meant to wear for luck. A messenger has been dispatched to fetch them. He should return shortly."
"Good, good." Arthur could not completely suppress his relieved grin. "We can use the luck of her pearls, no doubt."
His cousin's brow shot up at the comment, but he said nothing, as Miranda appeared once again, and very shortly, Hero was at his side.
He thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her expression, however, was melancholy. Her smile reminded him of the time her youngest sister had gifted her with a toad fresh from the pond, a little ribbon around its green neck. He'd have to give her time to accept the idea, to learn that he was not quite a prince, but far from a toad. He would not push her too fast or too far. It was not worth the risk of losing her love forever.
His bride spoke her vows clearly, though she was pale. Only he was close enough to see how her fingers trembled. He could not resist pressing her hand in his own briefly. More than anything he wanted to tell her that she would not regret the marriage. He saw her glance brush over Digby, and soft color appear in her cheeks. Better to wait to reassure her. Once the Round Table challenge was met, she would know she had won the better man. He offered a smile, not certain if it would reassure her or send her deeper into despair.
Everyone congratulated him as they stood in the receiving line. No one seemed to look askance at the hasty marriage. The duke had made some excuse for the haste, and all had believed him. Or pretended to, at the very least. After all, Hero was hardly the talk of society, and his grandmother had beaten off most husband-seeking misses and their mothers. She had meant for nothing to disturb the agreement between his family and Gwen's.
He saw Hero's face flame with embarrassment at the gentle teasing she received from those married women who passed through the line. He must let her know that he would not press her to act the wife just yet. They both needed time: she to adjust to the idea of being a wife when she was not expecting it; he to make a place for himself in society, so that she could say she was proud to be his wife.
He was quite pleased with his resolution. So much so that he took her aside to let her know what he had decided. He expected it might ease her mind, help her enjoy herself a bit more during the celebration. To his astonishment, however, when he explained the matter to Hero, she seemed to be put out.
"You were in such a rush to marry me, and now you want to treat me as if nothing has changed?"
"But, my dear, I just wanted to comfort you. I know that you must have time to adjust to these new circumstances of ours." He smiled. "Your life doesn't have to change."
Her response was a stare that made him wonder if the top of his head had flown off. "Of course my life has to change. I am a wife now."
He had hoped he would not need to explain to quite this degree. Why couldn't there be a sort of silent communion between them? He sighed. Evidently, that was not to be. "Nonsense. I will leave you here. I will not trouble you."
She looked decidedly wary. "Not trouble me? What does that mean?"
"Remember the books in the attic? The drawings that were so shocking?"
She blushed, confirming her memory, as she nodded.
"We need not commence that behavior until you are adjusted to the idea of being my wife." He explained, certain that once she understood, she would be pleased. "I must return home to take care of business, but there is no need for you to accompany me. You stay here, enjoy the Season, I know that Miranda and the duke will be content — "
"What business?"
"Something I must do." He evaded a direct answer, not wanting to let her see how important tracking down the prankster who had turned his dreams upside down had become to him.
"You would humiliate me so?" Her temper was rising decidedly.
He tried to soothe her. "I do not intend to humiliate you, what I intend to do — "
"Find the person who did this to us?"
He wished she were just a little less perceptive sometimes. He could not lie, though he wished he were able. "Yes," he answered reluctantly. "I do want to see if I can find out who it was who played so cruel a prank on us."
"Very well." She nodded in satisfaction. "I want to know as well. I will help you."
He blinked. He could not have heard her correctly. "But you also need time to adjust — "
"I will come with you."
"That is impossible! " he argued. "What I must do could be dangerous — " Not to mention that his chivalrous offer to give her time to adjust to marriage before he came to her bed would be sorely tested if she were traveling with him.
"Mr. Beasley could have been killed — " The bookshop proprietor, they had discovered, had not been ill. He had actually been poisoned so that he would not be able to open his shop on the day of Arthur's appointment. Because of his age, the man could have died if the poison had been even slightly more potent.
"So I should be a good wife and let you go off to risk your own life while I am safely sipping tea and counting Juliet's suitors?"
For some reason, she seemed to find that thought infuriating rather than comforting. He tried to make his tone utterly reasonable. "I would prefer you stay here, out of harm's way." Harm, including from him.
"How unfortunate for you. I intend to accompany my husband on whatever quest he has set for himself."
"I'm afraid that is impossible." He thought of the primitive travel conditions, the haste with which he would need to travel, the kinds of people he would contact for information. No, she could not come with him.
"We shall see," she answered with a lift of her brow, turning away from him to rejoin her sisters across the room.
He was still watching her, wondering how long she would remain angry and unreasonable, when someone spoke from behind him. "Well, Arthur, I assume you are pleased with yourself now? I would have hoped you could do at least one thing right, but I see my hopes were in vain."
Arthur turned and bowed stiffly. "Grandmama. How good of you to come to celebrate my wedding with me."
"Celebrate? Mourn is more like. Do you think it a mistake that I wear black without relief today?" She toyed with the lace at her throat. "Even my lace is black in mourning for what you have done."
"I have simply married a wonderful woman, Grandmama." He said it as forcefully as he could, knowing his grandmother rarely understood another's point of view if she held a differing one.
"What have you done, Arthur?" she asked, sighing and shaking her head. "Hero Fenster could never be a good enough duchess for you. Look at her sister if you doubt me. I shudder to imagine what people must think — "
"I admire Simon's wife very much, Grandmama. But I do not ever expect to become duke, so Hero's suitability is not really important to me." He realized that his statement could be construed as an insult to his wife, so he added, "Not, of course, that I don't think Hero would make a fine duchess." She might be miserable in such a life, but she would certainly do her duty, of that he had no doubt. Had she not just told him she would accompany him on his quest for the prankster because she was his wife and it was her duty?
His grandmother sighed noisily. "When are you going to accept your destiny, Arthur? I know your mother did a poor job of raising you, coddling you and your sniffles — "
Wearily, he said, as he had been saying for years, "I will not listen to you defame my mother." Now, he realized, he had a new refrain. "Nor will I argue about my wife."
"Gwen — ""
"Will make a good marriage. We had an informal understanding — not between us, but between you and her father — she has not been harmed by my marriage, despite what you say."
"If you think that, you are mistaken."
"Nonsense. We are all reasonable people."
She stared at him in astonishment. "Fenwell is furious and Gwen could barely bring herself to show her face today after such a rousing humiliation. You are fortunate indeed, because if they didn't think of you as family — "
He interrupted her. "Grandmama, I am heartily sorry that I cannot live up to the example of my father and be a legendary warrior. I am a scholar. That has its own merits." It was enough he had a wife who would have preferred to be exiled to the country rather than be married to him. He had hopes that he could make Hero proud of him. He was not as certain where his grandmother was concerned.
She sniffed in disdain. "Perhaps I would agree if you did something to show your blood was true. I hear they are looking for a new head of the Round Table Society. Are they looking to you?"
He had not wished her to know, but he could see no point in lying. She would have the truth out of Fenwell soon enough. "I am in the running."
Her brow quirked in a question as she asked sharply, "In the running? Who else would they consider?"
"Gabriel Digby."
Her smile was bitter. "Of course. I have heard of him. In fact, if it were not a horrible thing, I might wish that he were my grandson."
"Grandmama," Arthur warned her from the topic. It was enough that his wife would have preferred Digby for a husband. Now his grandmother wished for him as a grandson. Had he made a mistake marrying Hero? No, he refused to believe it.
His grandmother sighed. She, of course, would not be warned away from any topic she felt she needed to remark upon. "I could almost think that Mr. Digby was your father's child, switched in the cradle while you were both still babes. Well, I hope for the family's sake that you win the position. It would go far to erase this disgrace."
"My marriage is no disgrace, Grandmama. I hope someday you will see that." He added, "As to the leadership of the Round Table Society, I hope to deserve it soon."
Her gaze sharpened. "Have you some feat in mind to prove your worthiness? What is it?"
He nodded. Before she could ask a question, however, he held up a finger to his lips. "I prefer to keep it to myself for now, I think."
She nodded, surprising him by not pursuing the matter. Instead, she gave him a little prod with her fan and indicated Gwen, who was making her way toward them on the arm of her father. "You smooth things over with her, my boy. Her father has been a good friend to our family."
He turned to greet the couple with dread. When he glanced back, he could see his grandmother was heading straight through the crowd — straight for Hero. He hoped she would say nothing to his bride about the Delagraces' anger. But he did not expect such restraint, not from Grandmama.
He watched for a moment as his new bride greeted his dragon grandmother with a sweet smile. Sighing, he turned away to deal with Gwen and her father. Hero would have to learn to deal with his grandmother, just as he had been forced to ever since his mother's death long ago.
Hero had greeted Arthur's grandmother in the receiving line, and her suspicions that the woman was not pleased about the unexpected marriage were confirmed when the older woman had leaned close to whisper confidentially, "There best not be a babe in less than nine months' time, or we'll never live down the scandal."
Still, she was surprised when the older woman accosted her upon the fringes of the dancing crowd with the bluntest of questions. "So, you have him, do you? Think you're worthy?"
What diplomatic answer was there to such a frontal assault? "I hope to be."
"I tell you that you are not." After a quick up-and-down check that, judging by her expression, left Hero coming up short, Arthur's grandmother stared in challenge. "What do you make of that, miss?"
Hero stood rooted to the spot, hoping the woman's challenge had not attracted undue attention. She would not want to be the subject of more gossip after having to ruin Arthur's life by marrying him to escape the worst of it. Arthur's grandmother stared at her with unfriendly eyes, obviously expecting some sort of reply.
Would she be a better wife to Arthur than Gwen could have been? She had no answer to give to the question. She had thought that the Dowager Duchess of Kerstone was a forthright woman, but Arthur's grandmother put her to shame. She darted a quick glance around the room, but there was no one from her family nearby to rescue her from this situation.