Illusion of Innocence: Regency Rebelles Series

Chapter 1.

Friday 19 th April 1816—Seven Years Later- Pennington Towers

Lady Verity Davencourt was lost in the kind of happy place she rarely ever found amidst a crowd of people.

She hadn”t had to slip away to her dreaming place in the branches of the lightning tree down by the river, or to her secret indoor sanctuary up in the attics of the west wing of her home, Stannesford Hall.

With a smile lighting up her insides, she studied the colorful urn of flowers Robert the footman had placed at the center of the huge credenza. Like much of the furniture at Pennington Towers, the piece was centuries-old and tempted Verity to just sit with it and commune. If she rested her hand on the aged patina and let her mind go blank, the most amazing scenes would arise in her inner vision.

Scenes—and people—from generations past.

Events.

Sometimes whole stories would be revealed. These she wrote in leather-bound notebooks she kept concealed in an old chest up in the attic.

If found, they would only be another source of ridicule and condemnation by her family. Best they continued to think her the child she assuredly no longer was, allowing her to continue to flitter through life like a featherbrained lack-wit, who was not the least useful in any way.

Unless it be arranging flowers. Growing flowers. Anything to do with flowers. Even the language of flowers.

Which is why, when Lucy, Lady Pennington, had sent word yesterday, Miss Carly Silverton, her amanuensis of some ten years, was marrying Captain Jackson Arlington today and could Verity please come and transform the stark grandeur of Pennington’s Great Hall into something softer and more romantic with flowers, she knew exactly what was required.

The vision that had immediately formed in her mind’s eye was taking shape before her, on the magnificent credenza which made a statement all of its own against the dark oak paneling of the Great Hall at Pennington Towers.

‘Bring in the next one, please, Robert.’

Stepping back, Verity squatted beside a tatty, cut down carpetbag which was lined with a cushion and bits of old blankets to make a cozy nest for her elderly York terrier, Miss Pearl.

Lifting the little dog into her arms, she nuzzled the top of her silken head with her nose.

‘What do you think, Pearly? I think the balance is just right. And the colors pop with happiness.’

Miss Pearl’s head darted about, and she licked Verity’s chin.

Laughing softly, she replaced the old dog in her bed. Every moment with her was precious. Verity knew there would not be many more and her heart would break, as deeply as it had when Libby had—d—disappeared.

Pearly had been a gift from Libby after she”d married old Lord Earnslaw nine years ago. While she had the faithful little dog, it was as if she still had something tangible of her big sister.

She ‘knew’ one day, Libby would come home, but without Pearly’s snug little body to hold against her heart it would be harder to go on believing.

Enduring.

Robert brought in the next urn of flowers Verity had arranged in the kitchen scullery and placed it on one end of the credenza. Focusing on the flowers, she let go of the unsettling thoughts of a time soon approaching when she”d no longer have the company of her constant canine soulmate.

Sometimes, she’d swear Pearly was as ‘knowing’ as she was herself.

Best she focused on the task at hand.

Of course it was ridiculous to imagine poor Robert could transfer the unwieldy arrangement from the scullery bench onto the sturdy butler’s trolley and then onto the credenza without disturbing anything at all.

As she reached in to adjust the perfect sprays of blood red roses she’d used in the center of all three urns, a frisson of energy teased up her spine. It was not enough to steal her focus however, and after a cursory glance around the vast hall alive with footmen and maids and even Lord and Lady Pennington cleaning and decorating, Verity returned to studying her arrangement.

To the untrained eye it probably looked perfect. But Verity knew a tweak and a twitch, a smile and a projection of love towards the beautiful blooms and she would have achieved something beyond perfect.

‘Dearest Very, they are absolutely exquisite. You cannot improve on perfection.’

‘Oh, Lucy, I want them to be perfect for Carly. She so deserves it. Who would have thought, after all this time, she would find the one? She has waited so long for her fairytale ending.’

‘She has. She does deserve it,’ Lucy agreed, rubbing her hands into the small of her back as if in pain.

The stance emphasized the round lump of her belly, and Verity reached out and laid a palm over the taut mound.

‘Is he paining you? Does he kick?’

‘I’ve felt little fluttering movements. And I”ve developed a pain in my back from handing the garlands up to Gabe—but we won”t tell him that. I’ll go and have a rest when we”re done. Because, like you, Very, I want everything to be perfect for Carly tomorrow. No one deserves it more.’

As Verity drew her hand back, her heart all soft and mushy at the knowledge of the tiny life being nurtured inside Lucy”s body, the sizzle of awareness burned down her spine again.

Someone was watching her.

Sweeping her gaze around the Great Hall, she found the culprit.

Smokey, blue-grey eyes glittering like silver beginning to tarnish, the Earl of Pennington’s brother, Sinclair Wolfenden, leaned against the dark wall paneling just inside the main door.

As their eyes met across the expanse of marbled floor, the frisson dancing on Verity’s spine flowed abruptly into a direct apprehension.

She spun back to stare at the flower arrangements, but they were not what she was seeing. Knowing exactly what a cat felt like when all the fur along its back stood upright, she fought to disperse the ‘knowing’ that had arisen within her, along with the sharpness of the energy.

Where had Sinclair Wolfenden come from?

Lucy had certainly not mentioned him when she’d been rattling off the list of guests who would be present at such short notice. It didn”t look as if anyone had realized he was even present—or that he understood what all the frantic activity about him was for.

Why was he still watching her? For she could feel the burn of his gaze encompassing the whole of her being, even though she had her back to him.

And while he stole all her focus, she lost her battle against the knowing.

The sudden vision she had of herself standing at his side before Vicar Coutts almost took her to her knees. Why was she suddenly gifted with the knowledge that worldly, cynical Sinner Wolfenden would be her husband?

She’d laugh if it wasn”t so shocking.

His brother, the Earl of Pennington, called him Sinner, and she was sure it was apt. Sin and cynicism looked out of those thunder-dark, blue-grey eyes.

Even she understood Sinner Wolfenden taking her to wife would be akin to Satan plighting his troth to a Vestal Virgin.

At least, so everyone would think. All anyone saw when they looked at Lady Verity Davencourt, was innocence, naiveté, childishness.

Exactly as she had vowed while she’d watched Libby’s empty coffin being trundled down the hill to the Davencourt family crypt seven years ago. She’d carefully nurtured the illusion of innocence and naiveté over the last seven years. Only her best friends, Lucy’s younger sister Lady Victoria Wolfenden, and Lady Angelique Adderley knew the reality behind the charade.

Was it time to step out from behind the mask which had allowed her to live her life exactly as she’d wanted it, only putting herself out to assist her beleaguered sister, Charity, when the task was something she actually enjoyed doing?

Selfish it might have been, but no one, in her family in particular, had ever believed her, listened to her, respected her opinions, or treated her as an adult.

She”d always known Liberty was not dead.

All she”d gotten from voicing that opinion were demands to keep her foolish fantasies to herself and threats of physical retribution if she didn”t.

It had not taken her long to deduce the adults of Stannesford Hall, that is those older than herself, were in possession of scandalous secrets about Liberty they deemed her too immature to share.

That understanding had further cemented her determination to act down to their expectations. Even after Libby”s supposed death, when Charity was left to care for Libby’s stroke-ridden husband as well as their distraught Mama, her decision did not soften.

There had been moments when Charity’s exhaustion and frustration had stirred her guilt, but then she’d tell herself Char claimed the martyr’s role. Reveled in it, really. Nor could she forget how Char had threatened to box her ears if she dared voice once more her utter belief Liberty’s coffin held nothing more than logs of firewood.

Robert carted in the third urn of flowers and placed it on the opposite end of the credenza. Time to stop staring vacantly at her perfect handiwork and focus on the task at hand.

Twitching the tall stems of forsythia so they stood more evenly spaced, her mind still grappled with the astounding anomaly of her wedding to Mr. Sinclair Wolfenden.

She didn”t question it. Had long ago learned not to doubt what she ‘knew’.

At twenty she was likely heading for spinsterhood in the view of family, and she was fully aware many outsiders thought her younger. Still in the school room in fact. Was that the source of Mr. Wolfenden’s peculiar heated scowl that still burned between her shoulder blades like a scald?

Did he think her too young?

For her part, she”d always considered him too old on the few occasions she”d met him, but that hadn”t stopped her dreaming a little, fantasizing. Something she was all too capable of.

She’d always found him compellingly handsome. There was a dark allure about the man, something stern and commanding that spoke to the little girl within her who yearned for boundaries, firm but loving guidance. Someone who’d make her grow up and be the woman she was meant to be.

Give her a reason.

With a last loving pat to a deep red velvet rose, she stepped back with a sigh of satisfaction.

‘Now for the smaller arrangements, Robert. They should be easier.’

‘They should, my lady,’ the young man agreed with a dip of his head. Color burned along his cheekbones as he hurried away with the butler”s wagon.

A length of scarlet and gold carpet had been rolled out to form an aisle leading up to the credenza. Vicar Coutts would stand with the three magnificent arrangements at his back and Jackson and Carly would walk up the aisle together to say their vows and be joined in holy wedlock.

Robert returned with the six smaller gold, green and white arrangements and placed three either side of the carpet, as Verity directed. Stepping to the end of the scarlet runner to assess the perfection of the setting, it was easy to imagine Vicar Coutts standing with a bible in his hand, watching the bride and groom approaching down the flower-lined aisle.

Easy to imagine the bride as herself, the groom as—

Verity fought back the familiar trance-like miasma clawing at the edges of her consciousness.

She’d ‘seen’ enough. Enough to know it would happen.

Without a word to anyone she turned, and sweeping Miss Pearl, carpet bag and all, into her arms, left through a door concealed behind the arras hanging along the back wall. With her well-practiced impish smile to Lucy”s cook, she accepted a delicate piece of chicken for the dog and stole a lemon tart and a dainty poppy seed cake for herself, before hurrying out the door into the kitchen gardens.

Her goal was the stone seat hidden beneath the blossom-laden branches of the cherry tree in the orchard. By the time she reached it, the cake had already been devoured, and she”d started on the lemon tart.

In Verity”s view lemon tarts should be savored and she nibbled delicately around the edges.

How was it to come about she would marry Sinclair Wolfenden? Not even lemon tarts could banish that question from her mind.

They’d scarcely shared more than a couple of sentences, ever. She was certain he’d considered her an insignificant schoolgirl not worthy of his notice. And while he”d figured in her fantasies, she”d never believed he would ever see her as anything else.

Besides, she”d always thought she”d marry a man she loved, and who loved her. Something about Sinner Wolfenden made her doubt the man even knew the meaning of the word love.

Lust maybe. And she had no doubts at all he knew the meaning of a great many words she”d never heard spoken aloud. Nor should have.

Lust for sure, scorching along her nerve endings and arousing her senses to fire.

Clearly, it was time to abandon her childish persona and begin acting as a woman of twenty should.

She would begin by begging Victoria to sneak the Comtesse’s diaries out of the trunk in the Pennington attics for her again. The Comtesse had been an exclusive French courtesan who became Victoria’s great-grandmother. Her diaries were explicit and satisfyingly informative.

If Verity was to be wife to one such as Mr. Sinclair Wolfenden, then it was imperative she dispense with the illusion of innocence she wore like a cloak to obscure the mature woman within.

‘Sinner! By all that”s holy. How long have you been lurking there like a fox hoping to steal a chicken?’

Self-condemnation, a rare reaction for Sin, burned in his gullet.

Had Gabe seen him ogling the silver-haired chit who had to be the youngest Davencourt and scarcely out of the school room? Maybe still in it, if his eyes weren”t deceiving him.

A fox hoping to steal a chicken indeed.

‘Only a few minutes,’ he said, sharing a brief manly hug with Gabe. ‘Long enough to deduce my big brother might have some happy news to impart.’

He turned his gaze on his sister-in-law, who was peering over her husband”s shoulder. Gabe immediately stepped back and wrapped his arm about his wife”s shoulders.

‘We do indeed,’ he said proudly, smiling into her warm brown eyes.

‘A new earl in the making? Congratulations.’

Sinclair leaned in to press a kiss to Lucy”s cheek.

‘Or it might be a little lady,’ she countered archly, her cheeks almost as bright as the unbelievable fire of the wild curls on her head.

‘If it”s the earl, I look forward to him being old enough to handle a sword. Then I shall teach him how.’

Gabe gave an unrestrained bellow of laughter, something Sin hadn”t seen him do since they were lads. Marriage apparently agreed with him.

‘He’ll probably learn that at his mother”s knee.’

‘What?’

‘Lucy handles a sword as well as you or I. Jackson will vow she saved our lives in that last skirmish we had in Belgium, and although I was a complete ass, and it took me much longer to admit it, he was probably right.’

‘I will just have to steal him off to sea then—’

‘You will not,’ Lady Lucy growled, all hint of warmth gone from her eyes.

Sin gave her his signature teasing grin, little more than a gleam in his eye and a quirk of one side of his mouth.

‘Not to worry, my love,’ Gabe said with a devilish sideways glance at Sinclair. ‘He will marry someday and have babes of his own. Then you can return the favor. Teach his daughters how to ride like the devil and fight as well as any man.’

To Sinclair’s annoyance, neither Gabe’s taunts nor Lucy’s sudden smile could keep his attention from the exquisite creature fluttering about the expertly crafted flower arrangements like a fairy, touching her wand to individual flowers until what had already been a thing of beauty was transformed into stunning perfection.

The sudden stark vision of her with a babe, his babe, in her arms almost shocked his knees to jelly. That was not a road he intended to travel, but he couldn’t wrench his gaze from the picture she made with the flowers as a backdrop.

Venus disguised as a fairy.

He”d never seen a woman more exquisite. A faerie creature in an apron over a lace-trimmed, long-sleeved calico down, with curves in all the right places, hair glowing about her head like a silvery, crinkled aura and limbs perpetually in motion, mesmerizing in their grace.

‘Damn, it”s good to see you,’ Gabe was saying. ‘What brings you to Pennington?’

Sinclair dragged his focus back to his brother. Schoolroom chits, or even eligible misses, were not within his purview. He needed to remember that.

‘I”m on my way to Haddon Hall to check things out before I sail to Jamaica in a couple of weeks to meet Nik and inspect another ship.’

‘Another? How many will that be?’

‘Six, if we decide to buy it. But what really brought me here, apart from the fact I”ve not seen you since your wedding day, is a rumor I”ve been hearing in London. Of a honeymoon spent riding to Moscow and back. I thought to get the true story from the source. Did you?’

‘We did,’ Lucy confirmed, her sparkling animation back as she turned to gaze at her husband. ‘We rode to Moscow and back taking only what we could carry in our saddle bags.’

‘Like a pair of vagabonds then?’

‘Absolutely,’ Lucy declared. ‘It was the most amazing thing I will ever do in my life. The best honeymoon trip ever.’

Gabe was standing there, grinning fatuously at his sparkly-eyed wife. What had happened to his staid and conservative brother?

‘But—someone mentioned riding with Cossacks? You didn”t actually do that, did you?’

‘We did,’ Gabe said, his eyes never leaving his wife”s face. In fact, Sinclair would swear the two of them were sharing memories no one else should be party to without a word being said.

‘We spent two weeks,’ Gabe continued, ‘riding and living with the Cossacks. A most—unique—experience.’

‘Well—’ For once in his life Sinclair was bereft of words. Still trying to absorb the enormity of the adventure Gabe and Lucy had undertaken, he found his gaze roving around the busy Hall again.

The faerie creature had lifted a tiny silky-haired dog out of an old carpet bag on the floor, and was showing it the flower arrangements. She even appeared to be soliciting the animal’s opinion or approbation of her work. Her slipper-clad feet danced from one huge urn to the next, her chin resting on top of the dog’s silky head.

The tiny creature surveyed the colorful works of art, for they were nothing less, with intelligent, round black eyes.

The fluffy head suddenly darted around, and a small pink tongue swiped across the young woman’s chin.

A kiss of approval. Definitely.

God damn. Where had his wits gone? He couldn”t take his eyes off a child who clearly lived in a fantasy world, and her dog.

A child, Sinner. A child.

If he didn”t miss his guess the fairy goddess could not be more than sixteen years old.

Not even half his age.

And since he”d attracted and responded to female attention from the beginning of his teen years, he could easily have had a child older than that.

Although that was one mistake he’d determined not to make in his life. There was enough to regret without adding random illegitimate offspring to his list.

Yet again, he forced his attention back to Gabriel.

‘What”s all this drama for?’ he asked, waving his arm at the busy room. ‘Easter was last week.’

‘Jackson”s wedding.’

‘What? I thought the dashing Captain too set in the ways of bachelorhood to be caught in that trap.’

‘Jack”s fallen in love. Comes to us all eventually,’ Gabe averred, slipping his arm back around his wife shoulders.

Sin felt a reverberation all through his being, as if a great bell had been rung right inside his head. What the devil? First their cousin Quinn, though that definitely was not a felicitous union, then his brother.

And now Jackson? The brotherhood was shrinking.

It felt decidedly threatening.

‘Who is he marrying?’

‘Lucy”s amanuensis. Miss Carly Silverton—’

‘Lady Caroline Weatherby,’ Lucy said at the same time, and glowered at her husband.

‘He”s marrying two women? Or is he expected to decide on the morrow?’

What devil’s imbroglio had he walked into?

Gabe pressed a quick, hard kiss to his wife”s tightly pursed lips.

‘One and the same woman. It”s a long story. We should adjourn to my study—’

‘Not until you’ve finished hanging the garlands, because you know I will do it if you don”t,’ Lucy told him, eyeing up the ladder.

And there was the brother he remembered.

All commanding.

Bristling with honor.

Righteous and protective.

Just like he”d been all those years ago when he”d fallen for their sister’s governess. Did Gabe love now as blindly as he had then?

As he always did, Sin sloughed off the cloud of guilt threatening to settle about him when he thought of Gabe’s first love, who, he was pretty certain, was his first woman. She’d been one of several for Sinclair by then.

The baggage was no better than she should have been. Thank goodness Papa had taken Gabriel off to America, and Mama had dealt with the ambitious—and neither innocent nor discriminate—Miss Scott-Noble.

Lady Lucy was cut from a very different cloth.

At this point, Gabe was back atop the ladder, scowling down at his wife with an imperious hand out for the last of the garlands.

Sinclair handed them up to him and then was powerless to prevent himself from once again quickly scanning the room.

But the faerie creature had vanished.

‘How long are you here for, Sin?’ Gabriel asked, looking down from his perch on the ladder.

‘As I said, I intended to stay one night and be on my way to Haddon Hall to see Mother on the morrow. But if Jack’s getting married—’

‘You should at least stay for the wedding. What’s the rush?’

‘The Princess Eloise is in port in London and they should’ve finished unloading her by the time I get back to check over the inventory, and get the rest ready for bidders before we fill her holds with cotton goods and grain. She’s got to be ready to sail again in two weeks.’

‘Surely you have underlings to do all that for you these days? I know you can afford it. You and Nik both.’

‘We can afford it, but neither of us trust it. That’s why we’ve done so well. Both Nik and I are hands on.’

‘You never did have much faith in your fellow man,’ Gabe said, shaking his head.

‘And you always had too much,’ Sinclair responded, his gaze once again roving about the busy Hall. But the fascination of the place had vanished along with the fairy goddess and her tiny black-eyed companion.

The sparkle, the magic, the irresistible allure had faded to leave a mundane scattering of ordinary people cleaning and decorating—

He’d at least stay for the wedding, but he”d be gone directly after.

He had a strong inner conviction lingering in the vicinity of the tempting nymph would not be good for his health.

Sinclair moved restlessly in his seat beside Lord Stannesford, a big dark man who was the unlikely father to the sprite who”d stolen his senses.

The harpsichord quivered under the hands of the vicar”s wife, striving to fill the vast hall with the warm, gentle notes of ‘My Lady Greensleeves’. No doubt the woman was doing her best.

Gabe had told him last night another of his good friends, Major Griz Beaumont, had also succumbed to parson”s mousetrap just last month.

It was a damned sickness in the air.

Suddenly the music segued into the more strident, jubilant march, which had the opposite of an uplifting effect on his spirits.

The sound of another poor sod marching to his doom, in Sinclair’s opinion.

The guests all turned to look for the bride and groom, even Sinclair. With a carefully internalized ironic smile, he realized his well-grounded cynicism did not prevent him from feeling something in the moment.

Although, he”d be damned if he”d examine what exactly it was.

Slayed where he sat, Sin forgot how to draw air into his lungs, how to think, how to keep that cynicism securely buckled around him like a heavy protective cloak.

Three young women stepped onto the scarlet and gold carpet. Victoria, Lucy”s younger sister walked on the left, her tall figure outlined in leaf green silk. He decided the dark-haired beauty on the right was the youngest Adderley, gowned in soft blush orchid.

Not as tall as Victoria Wolfenden, Angelique Adderley nevertheless towered over the delicate creature walking between them. Instead of white baby”s breath as was twined through her companions’ hair, her silvery blonde curls were starred with tiny sprays of blue forget-me-nots, exactly matching the soft blue of her silken gown.

All three carried antique silver bowls of rose petals. While the taller two spread the blossoms in a sedate, low sweeping motion before the bride and groom, his fairy goddess danced, ethereal as a moonbeam, and threw her petals high to shower down on the happy couple following behind her.

Grace. Exquisite Grace. Seductive Grace.

Nubile. Nymphic. Na?ve.

The Three Graces, all wrapped in one mystical being.

Sinclair almost dropped his head into his hand.

Where was this stuff coming from? The tiny creature had bewitched him. Best he tendered his felicitations to the happy couple as soon as this performance was over and call immediately for his horse.

Distance would cure whatever ailed him.

Is this how it felt to be a princess?

Beautiful, filled with light and happiness.

Knowing today could be the beginning of a new direction for her life.

She was made for this, to dance and flutter like a fantasy being, throwing handfuls of love in the air. Of course that love was meant for Jackson and Carly following closely behind, but what would it hurt if a little fell on her friends either side of her and some on herself?

They all needed some blessings to ignite the love in their lives. Angelique had always held a rather desperate hope that one day Verity’s brother, Hugh, would come home from war and fall in love with the woman she had grown into.

Victoria”s heart belonged to Bennett Adderley, Angelique’s older brother, though she”d deny it till her last breath.

For herself, Verity desperately hoped when Sinclair Wolfenden declared himself and asked for her hand, it would be because he had discovered the woman hidden beneath the childish facade and fallen in love with her.

Once they reached the vicar, the three drifted away to take their seats on chairs placed at the left. From behind the bride and groom, Lucy, Lady Raquelle Adderley, now Beaumont, and Charity stepped up to the bride’s left, and the vicar began the service.

Carly was incandescent with happiness, and Captain Arlington was heartbreakingly handsome in his dress uniform, beaming upon his bride with ineffable pride.

Emotion welled in Verity”s chest, and tears burned the backs of her eyes. Lucy, Carly, Quelle and Charity had been a close-knit team all their lives, as were Victoria, Angelique and Verity. But those four were older by several years than Verity and her two friends, and Lucy and Raquelle had vowed never to marry.

And yet they were both now wed and obviously shared a deep love with their husbands. Carly had spent the last ten years in hiding from Jackson Arlington’s older brother, who’d won her in an infamous poker game with Carly”s father. In the quirky way fate had of playing with mere mortals, she had met and fallen in love with Jackson, and he with her.

Which left poor Charity. Verity tried to read her sister’s mood from her stance beside Raquelle. She knew Char was happy for Carly. Who wouldn”t be? But what was she feeling for herself, the last of the four with no prospect of a suitor in sight?

How could there be? Charity had given the last eight years of her life to looking after Mama, who had lost the will to function since Libby had—left.

The familiar sensation of a huge fist squeezing her gullet prevented her from saying, or even thinking, ‘Libby died’.

Breathing through the moment, she returned her thoughts to her older sister.

Charity had taken on Lord Earnslaw’s care as well after Libby left. Bedridden from a severe stroke, Liberty”s husband had lived another two years after his wife abandoned him.

Perhaps Charity had a right to the sour, unhappy countenance she often showed Verity.

For what had Very ever done to lighten her sister’s load?

Not much. Instead, she”d selfishly claimed the right to act the child her family had all accused her of being and left Charity to shoulder all the responsibilities Libby left behind.

She truly had been a child.

A selfish child.

Little wonder scorn eclipsed any heated appreciation she’d seen in Mr. Wolfenden’s storm-cloud eyes. If she expected a man as cynical, sophisticated and controlled as he to drop to his knee and offer marriage, she had a lot of growing up to do in a very short time.

Between now and when she next came face-to-face with Sinner Wolfenden, in fact. Probably in a few minutes.

The vicar’s wife struck the first notes of something light and lyrical on the harpsichord, and Verity, along with the rest of the guests, came to her feet ready to offer congratulations to the newlyweds.

Lucy, Raquelle, and Char were the first to descend on their dearest friend and the man who’d apparently received the nod of approval from each of them. Close behind them came the groomsmen, Lucy’s husband Gabriel, Raquelle’s husband Major Beaumont, and Quinn Masterson, Earl of Carradene, who was Gabriel and Sinclair’s cousin.

The men had all served in the Horse Guards with Jackson under the Duke of Wellington.

As soon as they stepped back, the three flower bearers took their turn and when Verity moved back, Carly caught her arm and pressed the single blood red rose she carried into her hand.

‘Please take care of this for me, Very. Put it in water on the table in the dining room perhaps. Jackson brought it all the way from London for me. I intend to dry it and keep it forever.’

‘And so you should,’ Verity said approvingly. ‘Red roses for love, and this is such a deep, true red, signifying deep, true love. It will be perfect on the table where we can all enjoy it during the wedding breakfast.’

With the bloom held to her nose, the better to savor its pure sensual scent, Verity hurried off to be certain the precious flower held pride of place before the bride and groom’s settings for the wedding breakfast.

It was impossible not to stop and check the carefully arranged rose bowls adorning the center of the long table.

When she returned to the Great Hall, the one person her eyes immediately sought out, was nowhere to be seen.

Verity would swear she heard the thud as her heart dropped to the base of her chest.

How was the man supposed to begin his courtship of her if he’d left already?

And if he had indeed left, when were their paths likely to cross again?

It was a bitter reminder that while she’d been given a clear indication Sinclair Wolfenden would be her husband, there had been no clue as to when, or even why.

As so often happened with the knowing, she was only to know so much, and the rest would only be revealed at the whim of the Universe.

You have time therefore, she told herself, to practice being an adult.