The Shocking Secret of a Guest at the Wedding (Millworth Manor #4)
Author: Victoria Alexander
Release Date: 28 October 2014
Publisher: Zebra/ Kensington
The bride and groom cordially request your presence for a wedding at Millworth Manor…
Guests will include Jackson Quincy Graham Channing, New York City banker, and Lady Theodosia “Teddy” Winslow, wedding planner to the finest families in England.
Introductions shall be followed by light conversation, dancing, flirtation, arguing, reconciliation, and an impulsive kiss that both parties are quite certain they will never repeat.
Until they do.
A mutually beneficial fake engagement will be accompanied by all manner of very real complications, scandalous revelations, nefarious schemes, and one inescapable conclusion: That true love—unlike the perfect wedding—is impossible to plan…
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Excerpt
Teddy gazed out over the crowd and wondered what these people
would say if they knew this wasn’t just the eccentric hobby of the countess and
her daughter. If they knew her father’s death four years ago had left them very
nearly penniless and with debts still to be paid off. Only her closest and
oldest friend, the bride’s sister Delilah, Lady
Hargate, knew the truth. But Dee would take Teddy’s secret to
the grave if necessary. There were any number of sins the upper ten thousand
would forgive. Poverty was not one of them.
“You do realize that you’ve missed someone,”
an American voice said behind her.
She turned and adopted her most pleasant
smile. “I beg your pardon.”
“You missed someone,” he said again.
She was tall but he was taller and she
had to raise her chin to meet his gaze. His eyes were a rich blue that
complemented the dark shade of his hair. His jaw was square, his shoulders
broad, and while not shockingly handsome, he was certainly an attractive-looking
man. There was the vaguest air of familiarity about him although she was sure they
had never met. He was obviously one of Grayson’s American friends.
“Did I?”
“I’ve been watching you and I couldn’t
help but notice that you seem to be making sure everyone is dancing or
otherwise engaged.”
“You’ve been watching me?” She raised a
brow. “I’m not certain if I should be flattered or alarmed.”
He smiled, a charming, infectious sort of
smile. “I assure you, my intentions are strictly honorable.”
“Then tell me.” She glanced around the
room. “Who have I missed?”
“Me of course.” He paused. “And you.”
“I see.” She considered him for a moment.
It was not uncommon for Teddy to join in
the festivities at an event. Indeed, one of the benefits of hiring Teddy was
having Lady Theodosia present at a social event. She was from a prominent
family, the daughter of an earl, and was once one of the most sought after
marriageable ladies in the country. Of course, that was several years ago. She
was twenty-six now and while her mirror told her she had never looked better,
age was as much of a stigma in her world as poverty. Not that she didn’t wish
to marry, the right man had simply never happened her way. And the one she had
thought was right had turned out to be very, very wrong.
“One dance, that’s all,” he said quickly.
“Save me from the dire fate of having only myself for company.”
“That does sound dreadful.”
“You have no idea.” His brow furrowed. “I
don’t seem to be doing this well.” The American leaned closer in a confidential
manner. “May I be perfectly honest with you?”
She smiled. “I much prefer honesty to
dishonesty.”
“Good.” A decidedly uncomfortable look
crossed his face.
“I accompanied my father here but he
seems to have disappeared. And aside from him, I don’t know anyone else here to
speak of. I feel both invisible and conspicuous, if that’s at all possible. I’m
not used to feeling out of place and it’s, well, disconcerting.”
“And dancing will help?”
“I am considered a good dancer and I
promise I won’t step on your feet.”
“Well, I—”
“The point I am trying to make is that I
feel like a fish stranded out of water at the moment. A large American fish. Just
flapping around in the sand.”
She bit back a smile.
“So please take pity on a fish and do me
the very great honor of joining me for a dance.” He cast her a hopeful smile.
“I would be forever in your debt.”
“Well,” she said slowly, “I have always
been fond of fish. Although I usually prefer it with a dilled cream sauce.”
“Then you’ve obviously never had baked
flounder stuffed with crab.” Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “Nothing is better
than crab-stuffed baked flounder.”
“Unless perhaps it is a native American
fish stranded on the beach?”
He stared at her for a moment, then
laughed and held out his hand. “Shall we?”
She hesitated, then placed her hand on
his. “You should know I don’t make it a habit to dance with men I have not been
properly introduced to.”
“Understandable.” He nodded and led her
onto the floor.
“Then this will be a new experience for
you. For both of us really. We should think of it as an adventure.”
“As adventures go, I’m afraid this one is
rather minor.” Although there was something to be said for dancing with a
handsome stranger. “Surely you can think of something better?”
“I wish I could.” He took her in his arms
and they moved to the strains of a sedate waltz. “But one has to start
somewhere. With adventures, that is. One step at a time, you know.”
“I suspect you’re right.” She shook her
head. “I’ve always rather fancied adventure although I’ve never been an
especially adventurous sort myself.”
“You don’t need to be.”
She drew her brows together in confusion.
“I don’t?”
“Of course not.” He skillfully led her
through a turn. He was right—he was good. “You’re a beautiful woman with hair
the color of fine mahogany, flashing emerald eyes, and an air of confidence and
assurance about you. You are
an adventure.”
“Oh.” She had no idea what to say. It was
perhaps the nicest compliment she had ever received. And it had been some time
since she’d had such a compliment. She wasn’t used to being at a loss for words
and promptly changed the subject. “Forgive me but I am a bit confused. You said
you didn’t know anyone here but your father. There are a great many American
friends of the groom’s in attendance. I assumed you were one of them.”
“I’m afraid not.” He shook his head. “I
have met him, the groom that is, but I didn’t realize that until I arrived.”
“Now I am even more confused.”
“As are we all.” He smiled. “My story is
long and convoluted. One I promise not to bore you with.”
“But I do so enjoy a long and convoluted
tale.” She tilted her head and studied him. “Is it a good one?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Well then, does it end well?”
“The ending too is yet to be determined.”
“How very interesting,” she murmured.
What an enigmatic sort this American was. “Will you be staying in England long?”
“I’m not sure.”
“My goodness.” She stared up at him. “Are
you being deliberately vague?”
He laughed. “Not really. My life is
something of a, oh, a question mark at the moment, I would say. I can’t answer your
questions because I don’t have the answers.”
“I see. Well, do you have a name?”
“I do.” He smiled. “But, in the interest
of elevating our dance from a minor adventure to something more interesting, maybe
we should postpone introductions for now.” A firm note sounded in his voice.
Whatever his story was, whoever he was, it was obvious he did not wish to
discuss it further. How very intriguing.
“And at the moment, I would much prefer to talk about you. You seem to
be running things here. Are you a friend of the family?”
She nodded. “The bride’s younger sister,
Dee, or rather Delilah, Lady Hargate that is, is my oldest and dearest friend.
My mother and I organize social events including weddings although my mother is
not here today. I planned this one.”
“It looks as though you’ve done an
excellent job.”
“It has turned out nicely.” She couldn’t
keep a note of pride from her voice.
“So this is, well, a business enterprise
for you?” Doubt sounded in his voice.
“When my father died, my mother and I
found ourselves at loose ends.” The well-rehearsed story flowed easily from her
lips. “Mother was well known for the elaborate parties she gave and she trained
me well. It began, and indeed it remains, more of a hobby than anything else.
Something to fill our idle hours. Although we do charge for our services. There
is nothing that says prosperity in society more than paying outrageous sums for
something you could probably do yourself.”
He nodded. “Yes, of course.”
For a few moments they danced in silence but
he was obviously pondering her comments. “It must be difficult work though.”
“Not at all. It’s quite enjoyable.” She
shrugged as best she could in his arms. “Mother and I both enjoy entertaining
but there are only so many parties one can give. Planning social events for
others provides us with a great deal of variety and an extra bit of pin money.”
“I see.” There was a slight hint of
disapproval in his tone.
“You think we should do this for
nothing?”
“No, but it’s, well . . .”
“It’s what?”
“Somewhat unseemly, isn’t it?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What makes it
unseemly?”
“You’re charging for your services which
takes it out of the realm of an innocent pastime and into the definition of
business.”
“Yes, I suppose one could look at it that
way.” His attitude was nothing she hadn’t encountered before. Still, it was
most annoying. She smiled and gazed into his eyes. “I prefer to see it as
providing assistance to those ladies who can barely manage a household let
alone a ball for two hundred people or an evening of music and cards for ninety
or a grand, extravagant wedding.”
“Perhaps but—”
“And if we did not charge for our
services, which as you said makes it perilously close to a business endeavor—”
He nodded.
“They would not be the least bit
valuable. As much as I hate to admit it, especially to a foreigner, but the
upper echelon of society here is frightfully shallow about things like this.”
She cast him her brightest smile and changed the subject. “And are you in
business as Mr. Elliott is? Another American entrepreneur? A captain of
industry perhaps?”
“Not exactly.” He shook his head. “I’m engaged
in banking, in the banking and trust founded by my great-grandfather.”
“I don’t believe I have ever danced with
a banker before.”
“Yet another factor that makes it more of
an adventure for you,” he said firmly. “Although bankers by their very nature
are not adventurous men.”
“And yet you strike me as a man well
suited to adventure.”
“Do I?” He executed another complicated
turn. “Why do you think so?”
She considered him coolly. “For one
thing, there is an air of assurance about you. You have the look of a man
certain of himself and his world.”
“And yet, only moments ago, I confessed
to feeling completely out of place.”
“Ah, but you hide it nicely. If you
hadn’t said it, I would never have known you were anything other than
completely at ease. I suspect you conceal your other secrets equally as well.
Which are probably most shocking.”
“Oh, without question.”
She smiled. “Which makes you a man of mystery
and intrigue.”
He laughed. “I’ve never been described as
either mysterious or secretive and certainly not intriguing.”
“And I’ve never had gentlemen describe me
as an adventure,” she said without thinking.
“Then they were unobservant fools.” He
held her a tiny bit closer than was proper. “And are you a woman of mystery and
secrets as well?”
“No, of course not.” She scoffed, then
gazed up into his endless blue eyes. Her breath caught. “Perhaps.”
He smiled a slow, irresistible smile. A
smile fraught with unspoken meaning or promise or something else completely
absurd. Something absolutely improper. Something that held the vaguest,
tempting hint of true adventure. The music ended and they drew to a stop yet
his gaze still locked with hers. “Then I was right. You are an adventure.”
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Victoria Alexander was an award-winning television reporter until she discovered fiction was much more fun than real life. She turned to writing full time and has never looked back. Victoria grew up traveling the country as an Air Force brat and is now settled in a very old house in Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two allegedly grown children and two bearded collies. She firmly believes housework is a four-letter word, there are no calories in anything eaten standing up, procrastination is an art form, and it's never too soon to panic.
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
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