Chapter Six

May 16, 1818

Rogue's Arcade Club

Mayfair, London

Fuck me, it's my wedding day.

Michael had come awake before dawn, for his sleep had been unsettled and his mind was equally jumbled. It had only been three years since he'd lost his first wife. Was it a wise decision to take a new one so soon? Especially since the union was one of convenience only. What had he been thinking when he'd proposed four days ago to a woman who was still much a stranger?

It didn't matter now, for there was no going back.

A check of the carriage-style clock on his bedside table showed it was finally seven in the morning, which meant he needed to make certain his son was out of bed so they could talk about what this day would hold and mean. In four hours, both of their lives would change.

After a quick bath and directing his valet on what he wished to wear for the ceremony, he went down the corridor to his son's bedchamber, which was next door to the room where Charity currently resided at the opposite end of the hall as his. He pushed open the door to find Christopher sitting calm and composed on the trunk at the end of his bed. Dressed in a smart suit with military lines and black frogging against the navy material and his riot of curls somewhat tamed with light pomade, he was every inch a tiny gentleman.

"You seem quite glum this morning, my lad," Michael said as he closed the door behind him. "Why?" Outside, the morning sun streamed into the room, for the drapes had been opened and the window glass pushed out to encourage fresh air into the space.

The child rested his somber gaze on Michael's face as he knelt before his son. "Miss Simpkins said you are marrying Miss Maitland this morning." It wasn't a question.

"I am." The knots of worry in his gut could testify to that fact. "Would you like to talk about that?"

"Yes." The boy nodded. "Is she a lovely person?"

"Truth be told, I don't know her well, but there is plenty of time for that." How to explain the situation to a child who shouldn't know about the presence of scandals and gossip? So he would stick to the truth as much as possible. "There are some bad men who mean to harm Miss Maitland. She has already been shot by one of them, and since she has no one else in her life, she needs someone to protect her and look after her."

Understanding dawned in Christopher's eyes. "You can only do that by marrying her."

"Indeed." Did that make him a fool?

"Did you court her?"

What was his son's interest in him courting? "There hasn't been time, for I've only just met her, but perhaps I can do that afterward." Did he even want that? A marriage of convenience suited him fine for the moment; the thought of offering up his heart was a touch terrifying.

For long moments, Christopher stared at him. "Will she be my mama now?"

Michael's heart lurched. Quick pain radiated around that organ. "Do you want her to be?"

"I will decide after I know her better."

"Fair enough." This might prove to be a challenge for them both. "Suffice it to say, Miss Maitland will be with us for a while, so I hope you'll find a friendship with her."

The child nodded. "Papa?"

"Hmm? "

"Will you kiss her?"

Heat rose up the back of Michael's neck. "I expect I will at times, for that is what a man does with his wife." Even if their union was one in name only.

"Will she like to sail boats with us?"

"I… I would have no idea, but we can ask her."

The earnestness in the boy's eyes never wavered. "Does she ride horses?"

"I don't know. However, we can invite her out with us some time." Obviously, these things were important to his son.

Finally, Christopher grinned. "Then you have my blessing."

"Ah, thank you. I appreciate that." With a slight groan, Michael clambered to his feet. "Now, you should probably have breakfast with Miss Simpkins. I'm going down to talk with a few of my friends once they arrive." Before that, though, he would spend some time alone in his study and try to soothe his tumultuous thoughts.

The ceremony would begin in little under an hour, and Michael's nerves felt as if they were crawling as he paced in front of the windows in the drawing room. In some agitation, he tugged on his cuffs, adjusted the knot of his cravat, then fussed with the buttons on his tailcoat. What was he thinking taking a second wife? Marrying a woman he hardly knew? All out of a misguided sense of heroics?

Was that what it was?

"You look as if you might cast up your accounts at any moment, Winteringham."

The sound of the man's voice snapped Michael out of his scattered thoughts. He trained his gaze on the two men standing before him, and he nodded at the Dukes of Edenthorpe and Lockwood.

"You are not far off the mark, Edenthorpe." But relief filled his chest at the sight of two friends while a few more of the rogues were filing into the drawing room, wives at their sides. "I cannot help but feel this might be madness."

Lockwood snorted. He shoved a gloved hand through his blond hair. "I must say, that anything worth doing where a woman is involved is indeed madness." At least he tempered the words with a cheeky grin.

"There is that." Michael nodded and bounced his gaze between the dukes. "Why do I have the sense you both wish to lecture me?"

Edenthorpe shifted his weight and leaned on his cane. "Well, you must admit this goes beyond that of a hasty decision."

"I was quite befuddled when the invitation arrived yesterday morning." Lockwood nodded. "Honestly, I thought there had been an error."

"Yes, well, no error. I was quite lucid when I proposed and remain so even now." Needing something to do with his hands, he fished in his waistcoat pocket and brought forth a ring. "I even dug this out of my safe." As he held the bauble up, the sunlight winked on the gold filigree band where three oval-shaped sapphires were set within the band. "My father gave this to my mother on their wedding day. It is doubtful she would even remember that time in her life now with her memories slipping, but I thought it would be meaningful to Miss Maitland."

Both dukes shook their heads, but it was Edenthorpe who answered first.

"If you believe presenting a woman you barely know with a sparkling bauble will make this situation better, you are indeed gripped by madness." Then his expression softened, and he laid his free hand on Michael's shoulder. "However, I have known you a long time and you never make rash decisions."

"Until today?" One of Michael's eyebrows rose in challenge.

"What our friend is saying in his blunt way is this," Lockwood said with his customary charming grin, for he was one of the peacemakers of the group. "You never do anything without just cause, and if you feel compelled to marry this woman without knowing her history, her people, or what motivated the decision, I choose to believe you." He nodded. "I know exactly how you are probably feeling."

"You do?"

"Yes, for my own marriage with Juliet began much the same way—out of a sense of protection because she was in danger."

Some of the pressure eased from Michael's chest. "That is exactly it." In the duke's case, the two had been married for a couple of years, and his wife had given birth to a little girl a handful of months ago. Even a nodcock could see he was tip over tail for his wife and she for him. Was that what Michael wanted for his own life? Could he come out from behind the wall of grief and disillusionment to seek that with Charity?

Only time would tell.

"What is?" Edenthorpe frowned as a middle-aged man came into the room, shown in by the butler. A younger man followed. He carried a leatherbound book as well as a folio, perhaps with the official register inside.

"I am excited to have a purpose in life again." Was it that simple?

"As a husband?"

"No." Heat crept up the back of his neck. "Not fully, but to play the part of protector as well as the opportunity to track down jewels and bring a thief to justice."

Lockwood tsked his tongue. "And put yourself in danger? You have a son to think of."

"I am aware of that, and I have talked about this marriage with Christopher, though not in detail regarding the man chasing her." He put the ring back into his pocket. "For this season of my life, this is the right path."

Edenthorpe huffed. "Let us help in the search. It is what the rogues do for each other."

"Perhaps I will in time, but the two of you have families to protect as well. Or have you forgotten Lady Stover's threats against all of us?"

Immediately, Lockwood's body went taut. "Do you think Miss Maitland's difficulties are related to that?"

"Who can say, but criminals are criminals, and sooner or later we'll come closer to bringing down her network." Michael shrugged. "I realize you are both concerned for me, but you have my word I am fully aware of what I'm doing, and if I'm fortunate, everything will be right as rain."

I hope that will prove true.

The dukes exchanged a speaking glance, then Edenthorpe said, "You don't love Miss Maitland. Not even in four days."

"No, but she needs me."

"Your protection perhaps. "

Michael nodded. "There is that, but there is something about her, an air of vulnerability that speaks to me."

Lockwood snorted. "You can't go around marrying every vulnerable woman."

"Do shut up." His lips twitched while they all shared a laugh. "This is different, and you know it."

"We know nothing about her," Edenthorpe argued. "And we are only trying to protect you ." When Michael went to protest, he held up a hand. "Stop. Have you bedded her? I could possibly understand your decision if you were motivated by lust."

"No." He ignored the continued heat on his neck. "I kissed her twice, once to keep her quiet and the second time for comfort. Two different occasions within the same day, but there is nothing else between us." Not that he wasn't aware of Charity as a woman and seeing her in breeches when they'd first met had been quite lovely, but he wasn't looking for love or even someone to warm his bed. "I am not certain I can be that sort of husband again," he said in a lowered voice. "Potentially losing someone I loved?" With the shake of his head, he dismissed the thought. "Besides, the two of you know me well. This is no frivolous affair."

"I do, which is why I'm concerned." For the space of a few heartbeats, Edenthorpe held Michael's gaze. "You have never been interested in marrying a second time before. Losing your wife was difficult. So why now? Why with a no-name woman who has nothing to offer?"

Hot annoyance rose swift and sure through his chest from the unintentional slight. "I don't know that she has nothing to offer. Everyone in this world is important." He narrowed his gaze on the duke. "Perhaps it's time for me to invite change into my life, and you fellows seem happy with your lots."

Again, the dukes exchanged a glance.

Lockwood nodded. "You miss the companionship of having a woman about."

Yes, but it was more complex than that. "I miss knowing there is a reason to come home at night. I miss the reminder that there is a reason I keep fighting—for everything. With my mind feeling more and more fractured with each passing year and the fugues I keep being trapped in, I want… security for myself, I suppose."

"You have your son," Edenthorpe pressed. "Children bring comfort and security."

"Yes, and I will defend him to the death, but this is… different with Miss Maitland. I can't properly explain it."

"I know exactly what you mean, my friend," Lockwood said with kindness and compassion in his eyes. "You are compelled to do this through some deep-rooted something inside. There is nothing wrong with that. "

"Yes." Michael peered at his friend. He probably did know. Lockwood's romance had nearly reached legendary status in their circle of friends and acquaintances, and even now he was having to prove that protection again and again thanks to a network of criminals who threatened everything the Rogue's Arcade men held dear. "At best, love might grow from the union after a few years." Though that wasn't uppermost in his mind.

One of Edenthorpe's brown eyebrows rose. "And at worst?"

He shrugged. "I shall have the friendship out of it I suppose, and a mother for Christopher. The boy has been pushing me to marry again in any event. As well, I have a feeling Miss Maitland will prove a pleasing viscountess."

"Well, other ton marriages have worked with far less," Lockwood said with an encouraging nod.

Edenthorpe huffed and shook his head. "That is asking much from a feeling of wanting to protect a woman." He gripped the head of his cane more tightly. "You could set her up as a mistress, visit her, perhaps bed her if things go well, but you needn't marry her."

"Why must you continue to needle me?" But Michael's lips twitched, for he knew these men only held his best interests at heart. "However, I am unable to ignore this nagging, lingering feeling at the back of my mind that tells me this is what I need to do. For us both."

"Very well. Then you have my blessing and I wish you well."

"Thank you." When he happened to glance at the open double doors and caught a glimpse of Charity standing there, her hand resting in the curve of the Duke of Strathfield's elbow, he temporarily forgot how to breathe. He'd not yet had the opportunity to speak to that particular duke about the hasty nuptials, but since all the members of the Rogue's Arcade were so close, there was no doubt in his mind the man had been apprised, and now that fortunate bastard had the honor of escorting Miss Maitland. "Fuck me," he whispered as he continued to stare. "I might have made a misstep."

Her raven-black hair had been arranged into an elegant coif that had strands of pearls and sapphire-colored ribbons woven into it that showed her slender neck to advantage. A faint blush stained her cheeks and her lips, pulled ever so slightly down in a frown, were the most becoming dark pink hue. But what caught and held his attention was the gown of midnight blue, nearly sapphire, she wore. The skirting sparkled with each movement, each breath, as if the fabric had been torn from the nighttime heavens. Capped sleeves drew his notice to her shapely arms while the rounded bodice, trimmed with tiny clear glass beads, showed off a rather decent and quite lovely décolletage. A long, sheer veil in the same color streamed down her back with a shorter length of the gossamer fabric drifting in front of her face. The garment had been trimmed with a black satin ribbon, the only concession to her grief of her absent father.

Truly, she was beautiful in that moment, and for the first time he could see her at his side as his viscountess. There was no mistake in choosing her.

Edenthorpe nudged him with the tip of his cane. "Do remember to close your mouth, my friend. It is never a good thing to speak vows to a woman while having fly on your breath." He winked and then moved away to sit beside his wife, who immediately took his hand and whispered into his ear.

"Right." Michael snapped his jaws closed. "I, uh, suppose we should start the ceremony, then." This was much different from when he'd wed his first wife. That had been a society affair, in a grand church with many guests in attendance after the banns had been read. His chest tightened as he flicked his gaze again to his fiancée of less than four days. "How can I do this?"

Lockwood dropped a hand to his shoulder. "If you do not, her reputation is ruined, for she has been beneath your roof for three nights. It is unclear if anyone saw her as a woman in the museum."

He nodded. "And this is the only way I know of keeping her safe, for even if I sent her to Essex, there would still be talk," he added in a low voice.

"Indeed. Good luck, my friend. We shall be there if you have need of us." Lockwood's expression sobered. "I have a feeling you haven't met the worst of it yet."

"Of that I agree." As the duke went to sit with his own wife, Michael stared again at Charity, focused completely on her in that moment as Strathfield brought her through the room to him. "Good morning, Miss Maitland." The day had already started busy and he'd not had a chance to greet her yet.

"Hullo, Lord Winteringham." She turned her head to peer at the duke. "Thank you, Your Grace. I am truly coming to believe that the men of the Rogue's Arcade are indeed a family, and it gives me great pleasure to know my soon-to-be husband is not alone."

"All for one, Miss Maitland," Strathfield assured her before giving a nod to Michael and stepping away, hampered only by his limp. The thump of his cane marked his passage over the floor until he sat off to the side and by himself.

Then Michael was more or less alone with the woman he would soon take to wife. Unease and anxiety swirled around him in a confusing cloud as his chest tightened while he sought to draw breath.

"Dear God, not here, not now!"

The fact that he offered up his own whispered plea wasn't lost on him, but it seemed embarrassment would be his lot, on his wedding day.