Page 33 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

“Don’t be angry with him on your wedding day, my lady. He only mentioned that your brother was unable to attend, and you had no other male relative available.”

Unable.Simon had tempered the truth, but in Mr. Beckham’s eyes she could see he knew. The mass in her throat grew, and she pushed it down so she could speak. “That would be lovely, Mr. Beckham.”

“Oh, and before I forget.” Mr. Beckham reached into his pocket and pulled out a strand of pearls. “From your future husband—a wedding gift. He mentioned you have been unable to locate your jewels.”

Unable again. She had no jewels, not any longer.

He held them out. “May I?”

It was a generous and thoughtful gesture. Certainly not one she expected for a marriage of convenience. She nodded and turned her back to him, allowing him to slip the necklace around her and fasten it.

Charlotte traced her fingers over the lustrous pearls, noting their fine quality. Simple and elegant, something she would have chosen for herself. How did he know they would be so perfect?

“Oh, Charlotte, they’re lovely,” Honoria said.

“Almost as lovely as the bride.” Mr. Beckham smiled and held out his arm. “Now, shall we proceed? You have an anxious bridegroom awaiting you.”

As she slipped her hand over his arm, her gaze flitted to Honoria, who appeared to be on the verge of tears. “None of that, Your Grace. Weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions.”

If only it truly was.

“And noYour Grace, today, Charlotte. At least not when we’re alone. Today we are simply friends and equals.”

As they settled in the carriage, Mr. Beckham regaled them with stories of Simon as a boy. Mischief followed him everywhere, and with five younger sisters, he directed the majority of his pranks toward them. And none of it surprised Charlotte.

“Once,” Mr. Beckham said, wiping tears from his eyes from the last account of ridiculous behavior, “Simon snuck into Rebecca’s room at night and tied her braids to the bedpost.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Honoria said, her hand held over her mouth to hold in her laughter.

“Did you beat him?” Charlotte asked.

The man laughed.Laughed.

Then his eyes widened. “Good gracious. You’re serious.”

“Well, yes. Didn’t you punish him?” Punishment was Charlotte’s close companion as a child—regardless if she deserved it. She could recall times when she’d received a beating simply for good measure after one of her brothers had done something naughty.

“Punish?” Mr. Beckham seemed to consider the word. “In a matter of speaking. Disciplined, for certain. For Simon, staying still was torture. As you no doubt have noticed about your future husband, he is a whirling dervish. The worst sentence for him was to be kept in his room for a day with nothing to do except read.”

Honoria seemed to take it all in. “That might explain his disdain for books.”

“Oh, he doesn’t hate them,” Mr. Beckham continued. “He just prefers doing rather than reading about it. There was nothing worse for him than to read about the adventures of knights and not be able to run outside and pretend he was the one fighting dragons and winning the fair maiden.”

“And racing chariots, no doubt,” Charlotte said, remembering how he drove the phaeton like a demon.

Mr. Beckham reached across the seat and patted Charlotte’s hand. “You do understand him! And now he has won his fair maiden and is off to start a new adventure.”

Before Charlotte could respond, the carriage slowed, coming to a halt before the church. Fat drops of rain plopped against the pavement and church steps in greeting. She felt numb, empty inside, as her gaze locked on the church doors where her future awaited.

Rather than an adventure, Charlotte envisioned her upcoming marriage as another punishment for something she hadn’t done. And like Simon, sitting in his room relegated to reading rather than doing, she felt trapped in a prison of someone else’s making.

Simon pacedthe area next to the transept. Rain battered against the church windows with angry fists. A warning? His skin felt tight and his hands clammy.

Drake huffed. “Will you stand still for one moment? You’ve pulled your cravat loose from tugging at it.”

As Drake repaired the damage, Simon’s fingers tapped restlessly against his leg. “Do you think she’s here?”

Drake gave a curt nod. Whether it was from satisfaction thathe’d fixed the neckcloth or in answer to Simon’s question, Simon wasn’t sure, until he said, “Honoria will see to it.”

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