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.