“If this is what you want, then I will stand with you in the church tomorrow.”
Amelia reached across the coach and took her mother’s hands. “Thank you, Mama. You have always been there for me.”
But Amelia did wonder who would be there for her mother when Amelia moved to Battle’s Peak, and her mother was alone with her memories in Catmint Cottage.
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT by the time Henry, Nicholas, and Rafe arrived at Battle’s Peak. Nicholas and Rowden had convinced Rafe they needed former soldier Colin FitzRoy to come to the club and devise a disguise for Rafe. Colin had been known as the Pretender during the war as he’d always been in disguise, infiltrating enemy lines. He hadn’t lost his talent. Rafe was now masquerading as a vicar who had gone to Eton with Nicholas and who had been in London visiting family for a few weeks before taking his new post at parish in the west. Colin had dressed him in plain black with a white collar and an ugly hat. He’d told Rafe to keep his eyes downcast and brush his hair over his brow as much as possible. The disguise was believable in the dark and from a distance, but if one looked Rafe in the face, he was far too handsome to go unnoticed. And anyone who had known Rafe before would know him immediately if he flashed those violet eyes or that rakish smile.
“Osgood,” Rafe was muttering as the coach pulled into the drive. “Alfred Osgood.” He looked at Nicholas. “Should I try it with a Yorkshire accent?”
“Can you manage a Yorkshire accent?”
“Just keep your mouth shut or you’ll have us all arrested,” Henry said. He had been less than pleased to have Rafe accompany them back. They’d tested the disguise on Henry when he’d arrived at the Draven Club to fetch Nicholas, and it had taken Henry about two minutes to realize Alfred Osgood was Rafe Beaumont. Of course, he’d been friends with one of Rafe’s older brothers for years and knew Rafe better than the average gentleman. At least that was what the men told each other as they pushed Rafe into the coach and out of London. Rowden would write when it was safe for Rafe to return. “A fortnight at most,” he assured them. Henry had glowered at Nicholas and then Rafe, who didn’t seem bothered by the evil looks in the least. Rafe was far more interested in hearing about Nicholas’s bride. He’d asked about a dozen questions before Henry had enough and told him Nicholas had ruined the chit and was forced to marry her.
Rafe, of course, had not looked shocked at all. Instead, he patted Nicholas’s arm and said, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“If you are done congratulating your protégé,” Henry said sarcastically, “how do you intend to be sure my mother and wife do not see you? Neither can be trusted with a secret, and they will both know you on sight.”
“That’s easy,” Rafe had said.
“Go on,” Henry said when Rafe didn’t elaborate.
“You obviously have no head for strategy,” Rafe told Henry, which made Nicholas laugh as the only strategy he had ever known Rafe to possess was the best way to woo a woman. “Laugh if you will, but you’re not the one who waltzed right back into London under the Foreign Office’s nose.”
“I’m not so sure that wasn’t stupidity,” Henry said. “But do tell us your strategy.”
“I’ll hide,” Rafe said succinctly.
Nicholas waited to hear more and when no more was forthcoming, Henry said, “That’s all then?”
“It’s perfect. What more need I say?” Rafe sat back and looked pleased with himself.
“A bit more, I think,” Nicholas suggested before Henry jumped across the coach and strangled Rafe.
“It’s the middle of the night, so presumably the house will be abed,” Rafe said. “We’ll pretend I’m ill for the benefit of the servants and you can stash me away in the dreary, seldom used north wing.”
“We don’t have a north wing,” Henry said.
Rafe didn’t acknowledge the interruption. “I’ll stay hidden away until after the wedding guests depart. Then it will be just you and me, Nickers.”
Nicholas hadn’t heard that sobriquet in years. The men of Draven’s troop had given it to him because he sometimes imitated the sounds horses made when interacting with them.
“And his bride,” Henry said.
Rafe pointed to the marquess. “Is he always like this?”
Nicholas nodded.
“Will your bride know me, do you think?”
“I doubt it. She’s been caring for her sick father in Hungerford for several years. She might know of you, but she won’t know your face.”
“Then she’ll simply assume I am the Vicar Osgood.”
“That’s what we’re going with?” Henry said as the coach slowed to a stop. “No one will believe it.”
“I’ll add my Yorkshire accent,” Rafe said just as the footman opened the door.
Rafe kept his head down and stood in the shadows, waiting for Nicholas to climb out of the coach. It was an arduous process because Nicholas wouldn’t accept any help, and his legs were stiff and hurt more than usual. Finally, he was on solid ground again and able to walk slowly and painfully toward the house, where another footman held the door open. “Right,” Nicholas said to Rafe, his voice low. “Henry will show you to a room, and I’ll have one of the maids leave a tray outside in the morning. If you stay inside and keep hidden away, no one will be the wiser.”
“If you send summat to eat then I’ll keep missen busy,” Rafe said in what Nicholas supposed was his Yorkshire accent but sounded more like a Frenchman with a Spanish accent attempting English.
Nicholas closed his eyes. “That was truly horrible. It would be better if you said nothing.”
“I won’t say nowt.”
Nicholas laughed and then blew out a breath as much to ease the pain of walking as to calm himself. Now that he was home the realization washed over him that he would be marrying in just a few hours. He had the license in his coat, and it seemed to be burning a hole through the superfine as the night wore on. Would he really marry a woman he barely knew in the morning? Was there even any way to avoid it at this point? What if Miss Blackstock jilted him? Everyone would pity the poor cripple and he’d rather be known as a scoundrel who ruined women than the cripple no woman wanted.
And of course, this was exactly the position he’d hoped to avoid putting himself in by agreeing to marry her and thus thwarting his mother’s plans to put him on display in the marriage market. At the door, Nicholas took another deep breath. He just needed to make it a few more hours. Then he would be married and all of these worries would be a thing of the past.
“There you are,” Florentia said, coming out of the parlor just off the foyer.
“What are you still doing up?” he asked as Rafe hastily ducked his head and pulled his hat low on his brow.
“Don’t fret. Mother is asleep, as is your wife,” she said to Henry. “It’s just me, and I wanted to talk to you.” She glanced at Rafe. “But I see you have arrived with a guest.”
“Yes,” Henry said. “This is the Vicar Osgood. He is an old friend of Nicholas’s from school. Vicar, this is our sister, Lady Florentia.”