———
The Duke of Twyford returned to London the next afternoon, accompanied by his Duchess. They went directly to Twyford House, to find the entire household at sixes and sevens. They found Lady Benborough in the back parlour, reclining on the chaise, her wig askew, an expression of smug satisfaction on her face. At sight of them, she abruptly sat up, struggling to control the wig. “There you are! And about time, too!” Her shrewd blue eyes scanned their faces, noting the inner glow that lit Caroline’s features and the contented satisfaction in her nephew’s dark face. “What have you been up to?”
Max grinned wickedly and bent to kiss her cheek. “Securing my Duchess, as you correctly imagined.”
“You’ve tied the knot already?” she asked in disbelief.
Caroline nodded. “It seemed most appropriate. That way, our wedding won’t get in the way of the others.”
“Humph!” snorted Augusta, disgruntled at missing the sight of her reprehensible nephew getting leg-shackled. She glared at Max.
His smile broadened. “Strange, I had thought you would be pleased to see us wed; Particularly considering your odd behaviour. Why, even Caro had begun to wonder why you never warned her about me, despite the lengths to which I went to distract her mind from such concerns.”
Augusta blushed. “Yes, well,” she began, slightly flustered, then saw the twinkle in Max’s eye. “You know very well I’m aux anges to see you married at last, but I would have given my best wig to have seen it!”
Caroline laughed. “I do assure you we are truly married. But where are the others?”
“And that’s another thing!” said Augusta, turning to Max. “The next time you set about creating a bordello in a household I’m managing, at least have the goodness to warn me beforehand! I come down after my nap to find Arabella in Hugo Denbigh’s lap. That was bad enough, but the door to the morning-room was locked. Sarah and Darcy Hamilton eventually emerged, but only much later.” She glared at Max but was obviously having difficulty keeping her face straight “Worst of all,” she continued in a voice of long suffering, “Miriam went to look at the roses just before sunset. Martin had apparently chosen the rose garden to further his affair with Lizzie, don’t ask me why. It was an hour before Miriam’s palpitations had died down enough for her to go to bed. I’ve packed her off to her sister’s to recuperate. Really, Max, you’ve had enough experience to have foreseen what would happen.”
Both Max and Caroline were convulsed with laughter.
“Oh, dear,” said Caroline when she could speak, “I wonder what would have happened if she had woken up on the way back from the Richardsons’ ball?”
Augusta looked interested but, before she could request further information, the door opened and Sarah entered, followed by Darcy Hamilton. From their faces it was clear that all their troubles were behind them—Sarah looked radiant, Darcy simply looked besotted. The sisters greeted each other affectionately, then Sarah drew back and surveyed the heavy gold ring on Caroline’s left hand. “Married already?”
“We thought to do you the favour of getting our marriage out of the way forthwith,” drawled Max, releasing Darcy’s hand. “So there’s no impediment to your own nuptials.”
Darcy and Sarah exchanged an odd look, then burst out laughing. “I’m afraid, dear boy,” said Darcy, “that we’ve jumped the gun, too.”
Sarah held out her left hand, on which glowed a slim gold band.
While the Duke and Duchess of Twyford and Lord and Lady Darcy exchanged congratulations all around, Lady Benborough looked on in disgust. “What I want to know,” she said, when she could make herself heard once more, “is if I’m to be entirely done out of weddings, even after all my efforts to see you all in parson’s mouse-trap?”
“Oh, there are still two Twinnings to go, so I wouldn’t give up hope,” returned her nephew, smiling down at her with transparent goodwill. “Apropos of which, has anyone seen the other two lately?”
No one had. When applied to, Millwade imparted the information that Lord Denbigh had called for Miss Arabella just before two. They had departed in Lord Denbigh’s carriage. Mr. Martin had dropped by for Miss Lizzie at closer to three. They had left in a hack.
“A hack?” queried Max.
Millwade merely nodded. Dismissed, he withdrew.
Max was puzzled. “Where on earth could they have gone?”
As if in answer, voices were heard in the hall. But it was Arabella and Hugo who had returned. Arabella danced in, her curls bouncing, her big eyes alight with happiness. Hugo ambled in her wake, his grin suggesting that he suspected his good fortune was merely a dream and he would doubtless wake soon enough. Meanwhile, he was perfectly content with the way this particular dream was developing. Arabella flew to embrace Caroline and Sarah, then turned to the company at large and announced, “Guess what!”
A pregnant silence greeted her words, the Duke and his Duchess, the Lord and his Lady, all struck dumb by a sneaking suspicion. Almost unwillingly, Max voiced it. “You’re married already?”
Arabella’s face fell a little. “How did you guess?” she demanded.
“No!” moaned Augusta. “Max, see what happens when you leave town? I won’t have it!”
But her words fell on deaf ears. Too blissfully happy themselves to deny their friends the same pleasures, the Duke and his Duchess were fully engaged in wishing the new Lady Denbigh and her Lord all manner of felicitations. And then, of course, there was their own news to hear, and that of the Hamiltons. The next ten minutes were filled with congratulations and good wishes.
Left much to herself, Lady Benborough sat in a corner of the chaise and watched the group with an indulgent eye. Truth to tell, she was not overly concerned with the absence of weddings. At her age, they constituted a definite trial. She smiled at the thought of the stories she would tell of the rapidity with which the three rakes before her had rushed their brides to the altar. Between them, they had nearly forty years of experience in evading parson’s mouse-trap, yet, when the right lady had loomed on their horizon, they had found it expedient to wed her with all speed. She wondered whether that fact owed more to their frustrations or their experience.
Having been assured by Arabella that Martin had indeed proposed and been accepted, the Duke and Duchess allowed themselves to be distracted by the question of the immediate housing arrangements. Eventually, it was decided that, in the circumstances, it was perfectly appropriate that Sarah should move into Hamilton House immediately, and Arabella likewise to Denbigh House. Caroline, of course, would henceforth be found at Delmere House. Relieved to find their ex-guardian so accommodating, Sarah and Arabella were about to leave to attend to their necessary packing, when the door to the drawing-room opened.
Martin and Lizzie entered.