Excerpt of The Wedding Deception by Adrienne Basso

Chapter One

London, England

Early Spring, 1817

It was a cool, misty, overcast day, yet the weather proved
to be no deterrent to the bustling mix of human and
carriage traffic gathered on the streets. The faint odor
of mud and horses, the sounds of elegant coaches and
merchant cart wheels rumbling, and the endless parade of
pedestrians in all shapes, sizes, and manner of dress was
truly a sight to behold.

The scene was unfamiliar to the young woman surveying it,
and ordinarily she would have been pressing forward in her
seat, anxious to have a better view of this strange,
mysterious new world. But not today.

With a deep sigh of resignation, Claire Truscott
Barrington, Lady Fairhurst, turned her head away from the
carriage window and closed her eyes, shutting out the
crowded London streets. If only it were as easy to shut
out the guilt that crowded her mind, to ease the
disappointment she felt within herself for the cowardly
act she was about to commit.

A promise made is a promise kept. The haunting refrain
whirled inside her head with such recurring frequency, it
was a wonder that she did not begin to speak the phrase
out loud. It started the moment she had been forced to
agree to this journey, and it continued relentlessly
throughout the two long days of travel. She wondered
briefly if it would ease after she had completed her
dastardly deed, yet she doubted her well-honed conscience
would give it a rest.

The catalyst of all this momentous turmoil was at this
moment seated across the carriage from her, snoring with
vigor. With her black bonnet slightly askew, double chin
quivering gently, and a stray wisp of gray hair cascading
diagonally across her wrinkled cheek, the elderly woman
looked harmless and fragile, but Claire knew better.

Great-Aunt Agnes had always possessed an overburdened
sense of familial duty and an equally ferocious will that
gave her the impetus to carry out those dictates.
Unfortunately for Claire, age had not lessened the
diminutive woman’s temperament or softened her interfering
personality.

It was purely by chance, and bad luck, that Great- Aunt
Agnes had decided to make an unexpected stop in Wiltshire
to visit her nephew’s family before continuing on to her
home in London. She insisted she was anxious to
congratulate her great-niece on her recent marriage,
though Claire suspected that was merely an excuse.

Great-Aunt Agnes’s real motive was to assess the qualities
and characteristics of the new bridegroom and decide if
they met her high, exacting standards.

And when there was no husband in residence to meet—well,
that was when the fat hit the fire and Great- Aunt Agnes
moved into action.

“It was a muddy nightmare the last time that I came home
to London,” Great-Aunt Agnes said, tapping her cane
rhythmically on the carriage floor. “Though I know my
coachman took care, it felt as though the carriage rattled
and jarred over every rock and pothole in its path. It was
almost a relief to get stuck in a quagmire, for it gave my
old bones a rest from the discomfort. I am pleased to see
the condition of the roads are much improved this trip. I
believe we shall arrive at Lord Fairhurst’s residence
before full darkness has fallen.”

Startled, Claire glanced up. She had been so lost in
thought and worry, she had not realized her aunt was
awake.

“I hope your driver does not encounter any difficulty
locating the address,” Claire lied, secretly wishing they
could spend the better part of the night driving up and
down the various London avenues without ever arriving at
their destination. Or better still, get stuck in a rut of
oozing mud, shatter a wheel, and abandon their journey.
Forever.

“Lord Fairhurst’s family resides on one of the most
fashionable streets in Town,” Great-Aunt Agnes said with a
grudging sniff of approval. “My coachman is well
acquainted with that section of London, so it will present
no problem finding the appropriate home.”

“How reassuring.” Claire smiled weakly and pulled the
edges of her cloak together, though she knew the numbness
in her hands and the chill in her body were not due to the
weather.

“I look forward to making Lord Fairhurst’s acquaintance,”
Great-Aunt Agnes said with a self-satisfied grin. “At long
last.”

Inwardly, Claire grimaced, and then her selfpreservatory
instincts flared. It was going to take quick thinking,
quick talking, and even quicker physical movement to gain
entry to her husband’s home. With Great-Aunt Agnes by her
side, it would be nearly impossible.

“There is no need for you to further delay your arrival
home on my account,” Claire said nervously. “The coach
will deposit me practically on Lord Fairhurst’s doorstep.
I shall be perfectly fine on my own.”

“Nonsense,” Great-Aunt Agnes bristled. “No lady of
breeding goes anywhere unaccompanied, even if she is a
married woman.”

“But I am arriving at my husband’s home.”

Great-Aunt Agnes’s eyes narrowed. “All the more reason to
be properly escorted. We might not hold an exalted title,
but our family can boast generations of genteel breeding,
as well as years of honorable service to the crown. Now
that you are in London, ’tis important that you showcase
all your assets, especially when you are dealing with Lord
Fairhurst’s family.”

Claire’s nostrils quivered with dread. No, this would
never do. “Naturally you may accompany me this evening,
Aunt Agnes,” Claire began slowly. “However, I assumed you
would prefer to wait until tomorrow to meet my husband,
after you have had a proper opportunity to rest and
refresh yourself from our long journey.”

Claire’s gaze flickered critically over her great-aunt’s
slightly rumpled traveling costume before deliberately
twitching her nose as if she had encountered a strong,
unpleasant odor. Great-Aunt Agnes immediately blushed, as
Claire knew she would. Claire felt a stab of remorse at
exploiting her great-aunt’s inflated vanity, which was her
greatest weakness, especially when there was no real truth
to the implied criticism.

Yet, it had the desired effect. Great-Aunt Agnes’s eyes
widened as she caught Claire’s meaning. “Well, I imagine
we can make an exception, just this one time,” the older
woman replied, absently running her gloved hand over the
miniscule wrinkles on her skirt. “Perhaps it might be best
for me to meet everyone tomorrow. We shall arrange to
spend the afternoon together. Just the three of us: you,
me, and Fairhurst.”

Knowing there was no possible way to respond to such a
bizarre notion, Claire merely nodded vaguely.

Your word is your bond. Claire shivered again. She had
always taken great pride in adhering to that simple
principle. Throughout her twenty-three years she had
encountered many individuals who treated such an ideal
with cavalier disregard. She had consciously avoided them,
believing they lacked character.Yet, now she was about to
join their ranks.

Perhaps this was her punishment for being so uncharitable,
for not understanding that sometimes circumstances pushed
you to act in ways you would never consider. A dull pain
settled on her chest as she pondered this, but then the
carriage turned the corner and began to slow. Claire
realized this was hardly the appropriate time for self-
reflection.

They had arrived.

She sat upright, her spine not touching the back of the
squabs, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she waited
for the vehicle to come to a complete stop. Her heart and
mind were racing with distress. For one wild, impulsive
instant she wanted to scream out the truth to her great-
aunt, to explain why she could not possibly enter this
house.

Ruthlessly, she squashed the cowardly impulse. Though in
her heart Claire wanted to blame Great- Aunt Agnes for
this interminable situation, she knew exactly where the
responsibility lay—squarely on her own shoulders.

Claire’s feet felt heavy as she climbed down the small
carriage steps. Dusk had fallen, and beacons of bright
candlelight shone from many of the windows in the large,
stone mansion. They contrasted sharply with her bleak
mood.

Fearing she might lose her nerve, she called out a hasty
farewell to her great-aunt and rushed forward. The footman
responsible for her luggage scrambled to extract her
belongings from the coach. He was out of breath when he
joined her at the imposing front door of the residence.

“Thank you for your assistance, Doddson. You may return to
the carriage.”

Claire reached out and pulled her satchel from the
footman’s grasp. She had brought only a few items with
her, yet it was amazing how heavy three gowns, a pair of
shoes, various undergarments, and nightclothes felt.

The servant gave her a puzzled look and moved as if he
wanted to take the portmanteau back, but Claire stood
firm.

“Thank you,” she repeated. Then she nodded her head
dismissively, indicating again that Doddson should return
to the coach. If she were denied entry to the house, she
wanted no witnesses who could carry the tale.

With another puzzled glance and a slight shake of his
head, the well-trained footman removed himself. The moment
she was alone, Claire raised her fist and pounded on the
door. The sound echoed through the stillness of the
evening, grating on her already frayed nerves.

Ever so slowly the door opened. Soft light spilled onto
her person, illuminating, Claire believed, every one of
her flaws: her considerable height, her modest and less
than fashionable clothes, and her too full breasts and
wide hips. Though she knew it was far wiser to have left
her great-aunt in the coach, Claire momentarily wished she
had her formidable relative standing beside her. There
would be no question about gaining admittance with Great-
Aunt Agnes leading the charge.

The stately looking butler who answered the door gazed
down the length of his considerable nose and sniffed. “The
family is not receiving callers at this hour,” he
announced in a haughty tone. “If you wish, you may leave
your card.”

Claire lifted her chin and gazed at him with stormy
determination. “I am not here to visit the family. I only
require a brief meeting with Lord Fairhurst,” she declared
firmly, and before the servant had a chance to decide if
he was going to allow her inside, Claire pushed the door
firmly with the toe of her boot and stepped forward.

“Miss!” The butler’s gray eyebrows lifted in alarm.

Claire scrambled farther into the spacious foyer; then she
turned and fixed him with a severe stare. “I know this
seems most confusing and improper, but I can assure you
that Lord Fairhurst will wish to see me. Immediately and
discreetly. And most importantly, alone.”

Though she forced herself to look confident and
commanding, Claire’s knees fairly shook as she waited for
the butler to react. He considered her with a jaundiced
eye for what felt like an eternity until finally jerking
his head in an affirmative nod.

“Very well, Miss. I shall go and check if his Lordship is
at home. Your name, please?”

Claire felt herself visibly flinch. She could not possibly
tell the servant she was Lady Fairhurst. He would think
her ripe for Bedlam and no doubt throw her immediately out
of the house.

“My business with Lord Fairhurst is of a personal and
delicate nature,” Claire insisted, trying to invest her
voice with authority. “ ’Tis best for all concerned if you
do not announce me.”

There was brief silence as the butler considered this
latest request. Claire thought it a good sign that he had
not ejected her outright, but her eyes traveled the length
of the elegant, winding staircase just in case. If
necessary, she had every intention of bolting up those
stairs and searching for Lord Fairhurst on her own. She
had come too far to be denied this meeting.

After another long minute of thought, the butler made his
decision. “This way, Miss,” he said grudgingly.

Claire allowed the breath to slowly escape from her lungs
and resisted the ridiculous impulse to hug the servant. He
would probably have a fit of apoplexy. She placed her
portmanteau discreetly behind a marble pillar and followed
closely on the butler’s heels.

Under different circumstances, she would have appreciated
the opulent and tasteful splendor of her surroundings.
Even the hallway had high ceilings, with ivory-colored
walls and gold trimmings. Though many candles had been
lit, they could not entirely illuminate all the dark
corners in this vast space.

The house clearly was furnished with an artist’s eye
toward quality. Everything from the paint and wallpaper on
the walls, to the marble on the floor, to the paintings in
the gilded frames was tasteful and expensive.

But all this beauty went unnoticed. As they walked through
the mansion, Claire was focused on gathering her scattered
thoughts and fledgling courage. She vaguely noticed the
liveried footmen bowing respectfully as she glided past
them. Finally, in the center of the second floor hallway,
the butler abruptly stopped in front of a set of lovely,
inlaid mahogany doors.