Nicola Cornick - Wayward Widow

Davinia Havard gave a long sigh. ‘I am depending on you, Martin—’ she stabbed him in the chest with one stubby finger in emphasis ‘—depending on you to prevent that appalling woman Juliana Myfleet from ruining Eustacia’s wedding. I knew it was a mistake to permit her to attend! Lady Lestrange has just told me what she did last night at the dinner given for Andrew Brookes. Have you heard?’

‘Heard?’ Martin murmured. He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I fear I saw what happened rather than merely heard about it!’

There was a sharp intake of breath from both his listeners. Araminta, his staunch supporter, looked both reproachful and amused. She leaned forward and added her own hissing whisper to the conversation.

‘Martin! Surely you were not at one of Emma Wren’s orgies? How could you have had such poor taste?’

‘I left before the actual orgy,’ Martin whispered, giving his sister the ghost of a grin. ‘I merely stayed for the hors d’oeuvres. I made the mistake of thinking that “stimulating”, when applied to Mrs Wren’s dinners, meant that the conversation would be good.’

Araminta stifled a laugh. Davinia Havard looked disgusted. Martin immediately regretted the impulse that had led him to joke. Unlike Araminta, their aunt had no sense of humour.

‘Then you know what that Myfleet creature is capable of, Martin! I am sure that she will do something unspeakably vulgar and my poor little Eustacia will be humiliated on her wedding day!’

Martin grimaced. To his surprise he felt a strong surge of irritation to hear Juliana referred to as ‘that Myfleet creature’ in so disparaging a way. He struggled with his annoyance.

‘I am sure that you are letting your imagination run away with you, Aunt Davinia,’ he said coolly. ‘I am persuaded Lady Juliana intends no such thing.’

His aunt gave him a darkling look. ‘I will remind you of that when she disrupts the proceedings and makes us a laughing-stock! Martin…’ Her voice dropped even further in an attempt at conciliation. ‘Perhaps it is fortunate that you are a man of the world. I know I can rely on you to deal with the creature, should anything untoward arise.’

By now almost every member of the congregation was studying them with ill-concealed curiosity as they craned their necks to try and eavesdrop the conversation. Andrew Brookes was sitting across the aisle, looking thoroughly sick and jaded, and Martin felt a sharp stab of anger followed by resignation. At least the man had turned up for the wedding, even if he was still warm from a courtesan’s bed.

Martin took his aunt’s arm and shepherded her firmly into her own pew. He bent close to her ear.

‘It may be that your fears are all for nothing, Aunt Davinia, for I do not see Lady Juliana amongst the congregation. Nevertheless, should the situation arise, I shall do what I can.’

Mrs Havard collapsed nervelessly into her seat. ‘Thank you, Martin dear. There is so much to worry about at a time like this.’

Martin pressed her hand, feeling a rush of affection. ‘Do not worry. Eustacia will be here in a moment and then everything will progress smoothly, I have no doubt.’

Mrs Havard groped in her reticule for her smelling salts. Somewhere in the congregation, someone tittered at the sight of the mother of the bride in such a state. Martin, deploring the fashionable and malicious crowd who had gathered to see his cousin wed, made a mental note that if and when he married, it would be in the most private ceremony imaginable. This public show was a sick mockery. Most of the people there cared little for Eustacia’s happiness and were only present for the entertainment. He strode back to his sister’s side, a heavy frown on his face.

‘I cannot believe that any of Aunt Davinia’s fears are like to materialise, Minta,’ he complained.

Araminta put a soothing hand on his arm. ‘Martin, surely you know that with Aunt Davinia, it is simply easier to agree? Then, in the unlikely event of Lady Juliana Myfleet…um…unveiling herself in the church, we shall all be confident that you will handle the situation!’

Martin groaned, resisting the temptation to put his head in his hands and garner even more public attention. For a moment, his mind boggled at the thought of Lady Juliana Myfleet slowly peeling off her clothes before the altar. He boggled even more at the idea of physically grappling with a nude woman in a place of worship. If she chose to display herself as she had done the previous night, the entire congregation would be riveted…

‘Martin!’ Araminta said sharply.

Martin sighed. ‘Minta, I have four children here to keep an eye on. It is asking too much to expect me to act as nursemaid to Lady Juliana Myfleet as well. I do not know why she was even invited if she is Andrew Brookes’s mistress. It seems the most shocking insult to Eustacia.’

Araminta sighed and edged closer to him along the pew. ‘I suspect that tells us what sort of a man Andrew Brookes is.’

‘Surely you knew that already!’

‘I knew, but Aunt Davinia did not.’ Araminta sighed again. ‘For all her bluster she is quite naïve in the ways of the world, Martin. Apparently Brookes put forward the names of his guests and Aunt Davinia accepted them at face value. She almost had an apoplexy when she discovered the truth!’

Martin shook his head. ‘If they had not had the folly to marry Eustacia off to Brookes in the first place…’

‘I know.’ Araminta made a slight gesture. ‘He is sadly unsteady, but he is the son of a Marquis and Eustacia cares for him.’

‘And which of those factors weighed most heavily with Havard when he was agreeing the match?’ Martin asked sarcastically. He had little time for his uncle, who was an inveterate social climber. Martin had always believed that Justin Havard had married into the Davencourt family to further his social ambitions and now he was selling his daughter off in the same manner. A fortune here, a title there…it was the manner in which a man like Havard might make himself influential.

Araminta was looking at him with resignation. ‘You are too principled, Martin.’

‘I beg your pardon. I was not aware that that was possible.’

Araminta gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Everyone has to bend a little. As a future Member of Parliament, you should know that.’

Martin did know. He just did not like it. He heaved a sigh.

‘In the unlikely event of Lady Juliana Myfleet causing a disturbance, I promise to carry her bodily from the church. But in return, you must promise to keep an eye on Daisy.’

Araminta bent over to kiss his cheek. ‘And Maria and all the rest of the brood. I promise. Thank you, Martin! You are truly kind.’

‘Let us hope I am not called upon to fulfil my pledge,’ her brother said darkly.

Lady Juliana Myfleet slid into a pew at the back of the church and bent a brilliant smile on the young groomsman who had offered his escort. She was not sitting at the back in order to be discreet but simply because she was late. The decision of what to wear, demure green or shocking scarlet, had been a difficult one. In the end she had chosen the low-cut scarlet, embellished by the silver crescent moon necklace that she always wore and a matching silver bracelet.

Her obscure position at the back of the church did not prevent her from being recognised by her acquaintance. She had chosen to sit alone, but there were people she knew in the congregation, both friendly faces and those less so. She could see her brother Joss and his wife Amy sitting next to Adam Ashwick, his new wife Annis and his brother Edward. Edward Ashwick smiled at her and sketched a bow. Juliana felt her heart unfreeze a little. Dearest Ned. He was always so kind to her, despite the fact that he was a vicar and she was such a fallen angel.