Merritt looked past her toward Mr. Norfolk, and then she gave Vanessa questioning stare that made her blush. “Mr…Norfolk, isn’t it?” she said. “Good morning.”
He inclined his head even as his gaze slid to Vanessa again. “Lady Egerton.”
“Mr. Norfolk found me searching for my family and was kind enough to escort me downstairs. Have you seen my mother or father, Merritt?”
Merritt let out a sigh. “Not your father, though your mother was with me for a short time. She seemed extremely anxious about something but would not share the details. She just kept pacing and looking at the door.”
Vanessa swallowed. Of course, her mother was probably just anticipating the wedding. She was desperate to see her daughter wed and receive whatever benefits she hoped to get from the marriage. And yet Vanessa had a strange sense of foreboding now.
She looked at Norfolk and found he was also frowning, though he erased the expression from his face and replaced it with a shadow version of his usual smile. “Forgive me, ladies, I shall leave you two and see if I can find the groom and his brother.”
She worried her hands before her, wishing he wouldn’t go in that moment when she felt a little uncertain. But she shook the inappropriate desire away and forced her own smile. “Of course. Thank you again.”
He bowed slightly to them both and then left the room. When he was gone, Merritt caught her hands and guided her to the settee. “He is very handsome, isn’t he?”
Vanessa gave her a little glare. “Gracious, it’s my wedding day.”
A laugh was Merritt’s response. “It doesn’t change facts. But perhaps you think Darrius Warwick the more handsome one.”
“Alvin is who I’m marrying,” Vanessa said through clenched teeth. Merritt’s eyes went wide and Vanessa realized what she’d done. “Arthur!” she corrected swiftly. “I meant Arthur. And I never should have told you that I found his brother handsome.”
Now Merritt’s expression fell a little. “Firstly, you cannot shock me, as you know. So you are more than allowed to confess such secrets without fear of judgment. And secondly, Vanessa…is this marriage what you want?”
Vanessa bent her head. “Do not ask me that. It is happening, I must resign myself. Look at you, you were wed in an arrangement not so different and you are very happy with the marquess now.”
“I could recall Elliot’s name on my wedding day,” Merritt said softly.
Vanessa pursed her lips. “I can’t escape it. There is no point in working myself into a frenzy about it.”
“I could help you,” Merritt said.
Vanessa understood exactly what her friend meant and she shook her head. “After what happened two years ago, ending this on my wedding day would be social suicide. No. I shall marry this man and somehow find a way to be happy with it.”
Merritt still looked uncertain, but she reached over and took Vanessa’s hand gently. “Then I will be at your side through it all.”
Vanessa leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder and sighed. At least there was that. And that had to be enough.
Benedict
Benedict entered Arthur’s study, hoping to find his friend waiting there, making his final preparations before he married the beautiful woman Benedict had just left behind in the parlor. Only it wasn’t Arthur sitting at the desk when he entered the room. It was Darrius.
He looked up at Benedict’s entry and stiffened, his expression becoming dark and unreadable. It had been that way since the night of their unexpected encounter two years before. Their friendship had frayed, replaced by tension, and not the kind that led to pleasure.
That was, of course, unless they could pretend to be anonymous. Then sometime Darrius let the shield down. Let Benedict in.
“What is it?” Darrius snapped, sharp.
Benedict shook his head. This was not the time to ponder their relationship. He had a bad feeling and he needed to address it. “Where is he?”
Darrius clenched his fists against the top of the desk and his jaw flexed. He didn’t ask Benedict for clarification on the he that they referred to. He just ground out, “I-I don’t know.”
The concern was so heavy in Darrius’s voice that Benedict took a long step toward him. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Last night,” Darrius said softly. “When we had drinks with the Marquess of Egerton and his guest, Peter Reid.”
Benedict nodded. “That was the last time I saw Arthur, as well.”
He thought back to the exchange. It had seemed normal enough. They’d played billiards together and toasted the union. Benedict had been occasionally distracted by the intensity of the bond between the marquess and the celebrated playwright, Peter Reid. They never touched each other, but they were always circling, their energy connected.
