Chapter 14

14

A ri tried to glance around the beautifully decorated downstairs drawing room and tried to ascertain if any of his and Lily’s guests were missing. He would have been satisfied to marry her with only the two necessary witnesses and the vicar in said vicar’s parlor. Mrs. Collins, however, in concert with Lady Camilla and the infamous Captain El, now the Duchess of Chelmsford, had put paid to that notion the moment they were informed he’d proposed.

Of course, once the other mistresses explained they would murder him in his sleep if he didn’t arrange for them to at least see and hear the ceremony, the choice of this particular drawing room made perfect sense. He’d arranged for the Rutherfords to hang a large painting over the fireplace before which he, Lily, and the vicar would stand. Behind said fireplace ran a servants’ passageway. Ari, Davies, and the ever-competent Fitz had constructed a raised platform with chairs angled in such a way the ladies had a perfect view through a series of gauze covered windows. Davies’ years in the theatre proved a great help.

At present, however, the valet was more annoyance than help. He continued to fuss over Ari’s attire, and his attention to the snowy white neckcloth he’d tied to perfection prevented Ari from taking in the entire flower-bedecked room. Every conservatory in London had to be bare at the moment as there were little to no surfaces and spaces not covered with blooms, greenery, ribbons, and lace.

“Have Mister Carrington-Bowles and Mister Charpentier arrived?” he asked.

“Indeed, they have. Mister Charpentier is supervising the final preparations of the wedding breakfast in the upstairs dining room, and he has seen to it that the…other guests have a similar repast ready in Miss Godot’s dining room.”

“And is Miss Venable’s escort dressed and ready to do his duty?” Ari pushed Davies’s hands away and looked around the room.

“If you mean, is he trussed up like a Christmas goose and itching like the devil down to the soles of his bloody feet?” CB asked as he joined Ari at the front of the room. “Yes. Dickie is dressed and has been delivered to Miss Venable’s chambers where he has been told to remain perfectly tidied and clean on pain of death.”

“Do we know why the lady chose a ten-year-old boy to walk her down the aisle?” The Duke of Chelmsford was a formidable man in any attire. Dressed in severe formal black, he was intimidating beyond measure. Ari was glad he was meeting the man as a friend and not an adversary.

“Dickie is the one who found Lily crying and starving in an alley when she first arrived in London,” Captain El said, as she looped her arm through her husband’s and caressed his silk clad bicep. “And after his role in bringing down the perfidious Mrs. Easterling, Lily said he was the only other man who had saved her life twice.” She gave Ari a regal nod.

“Well then,” the duke said. “Makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? How is Framlingwood dealing with all of this?” He nodded to where the earl stood talking to Mrs. Collins.

“Let us find out,” Captain El suggested. “Gentlemen.” She led her husband across the room and flicked her gaze intently at the drawing room doors.

Forsythe, Colwyn, and Charpentier spotted Ari and Lionel and skirted the edge of the drawing room to join them.

“I’ll tell everyone to take their seats and inform Miss Lily we are ready to begin,” Davies said, as he bowed and began to work his way from guest to guest.

Ari took one look at his friends’ faces and steadied himself with a breath. “What has happened?”

“Colwyn has news,” Forsythe said. “We wanted to tell you before you leave on your wedding trip. We’ll tell Framlingwood after the wedding celebrations are over. No need to spoil the nuptials.”

“Spoil? Why? Where’s Atherton?”

“Apparently, Lady Honoria has chosen today to deliver Atherton’s heir. They send their regrets, and she sent this for your reading lessons with your bride.” Charpentier handed Ari a beautiful leather bound and gilt-lettered volume. The Insatiable Lady’s latest book. His Grace’s sister-in-law had this one made up especially.”

They all glanced at Chelmsford deep in conversation with Framlingwood. The staid, dignified duke’s younger brother ran the most successful naughty bookshop in London. And the brother’s new bride wrote some of the most wicked prose ever printed under the name, The Insatiable Lady. Ari slipped the book into the back pocket of his tailcoat.

“Be certain Atherton and his lady receive our thanks. Now, what has Colwyn here looking like an undertaker on the happiest day of my life?”

“Our blackmailer is Bow Street trained. He is either a former Runner or one who has left the profession. His notes on the ladies are in a style only Bow Street uses. I know I have seen his handwriting before and I recognize his voice as familiar thanks to Miss Saida’s cockatoo.”

“Good God,” Ari said. “Can you discover who he is? Are the ladies safe from him? Is my Lily safe?”

“I will find him,” Colwyn declared. “But there is one more thing. I believe his employer to be a woman. The orders he is following are all written in the same hand and on the same paper. The hand is feminine and there is a scent of some exotic spice on the paper. Sythe’s wife is attempting to identify the spice.”

Ari searched the room until he found Forsythe’s wife, Lady Jane, and Colwyn’s wife talking with Captain El.Lady Jane was born and raised in India. If anyone could solve this mystery, it would be her.

“What do we do now?” Ari asked. The room erupted into the scraping chairs and the low hum of hushed voices. Carrington-Bowles nodded toward the drawing room doors where two of the Rutherfords stood sentry, ready to open both doors.

“We deliver you to the parson’s noose,” the Seven Dials physician said. He took Ari by the arm and steered him into position before the vicar. CB was standing up with Ari by virtue of his role in saving Lily from the attack of the blackmailer’s brawlers. The footmen opened the doors and the room gave a collective gasp, then a sigh.

Lily was glorious. Her gown was of the deepest green, silk and fashioned to cling to her shoulders and caress her form in sweeping lines. Her hair had been dressed in curls on top of her head with jewels winking from nearly every strand. She carried a small nosegay of jasmine in her hands. One of her arms was through the crook of Dickie Jones’s who was dressed in a ten- year-old’s version of Ari’s formal morning suit. His expression was a comical mix of solemn decorum and absolute disgust.

“Here you go, your nibs,” the boy said as he placed Lily’s hand in Ari’s. “Make her cry a single day and they’ll find you floating in the Thames.” Lily bent down to kiss his cheek whilst a rumble of laughter circled the room. When she rose and her gaze met his, Ari thought he might go blind from what he felt for this woman. Only a few weeks ago he was a broken shell of a man with no friends, no family to speak of, no future, and no hope.

In this room, thanks to his Lily, he had family and friends and a direction for his life. He had joy and passion and a vision of a future with his stubborn redhead, the little kitten Titania even now circling their feet, and love. Dear God, so much love.

“Thank you, Lily,” he said softly and blinked against the sting of tears.

She squeezed his hand. “For what, my love?”

“For marrying me, for pledging your life to mine forever.”

“She ain’t done it yet, has she?” Dickie called from his seat between Lady Camilla and Nathaniel Charpentier. “He’s a barrister, Vicar. We’ll be here all day if you let him start. Get on widdit, before she gets away, you daft gabber.”

The room erupted in laughter, and even the vicar had no choice but to join them.

“I’ll never let you get away, Lily Venable Sanderson Barker-Finch,” Ari said as he pulled her into his arms. “I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth.”

“I’m counting on it, Aristotle,” she said as she cupped his cheek. “I am bloody well counting on it.”

- THE END -