Always the Second Choice (Never the Bride Book 12) Read online

  “Well, I do not see why not! I will be a duchess, you know, and a duchess…”

  Olivia’s cheeks seared with heat. It was very like Isabella to ensure that even at someone else’s wedding, there was a fuss made over her. That was just the way she was, though now Olivia came to think about it. She hadn’t been that way when they had first come out into society when they had been seventeen. She had been…well, they had been more alike. It was only when…

  Olivia’s lips pursed. She would not think of that time, she would not allow the pain back into her heart.

  So Isabella was proud she was marrying a duke and wished everyone to know about her great dowry. Olivia did not see the point, but that was Bella.

  “Isabella Vaughn, Duchess of Larnwick,” Isabella was saying wistfully.

  Olivia glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes past ten. “Yes, but you’ll also be a wife. Won’t that be more important?”

  Isabella stared. “Why, what a curious thing to say.”

  It was always strange looking at one’s twin, especially when the two of you were identical. It was like having a mirror constantly at your side, one that twisted and occasionally warped like now, when their hairstyles were so different—a mirror which always showed the best and worst of yourself.

  They had shared their entire lives, from the very beginning until now, until today. Today, they would be separated; Olivia would return home with their parents, and the new Duchess of Larnwick would disappear with her husband to his homeland, to Scotland.

  It was a strange sort of bittersweet pain. Olivia had not permitted herself to think what her life would be without Bella always by her side. With so many wedding postponements, it hadn’t made sense.

  Would it be freeing? To no longer be in Isabella’s shadow, always compared, always the second choice when it came to cards, or dancing, or conversation? It was all very well being a twin sister, of course, but when one was always compared, never quite enough…

  “Oh, a wife, a wife,” said Isabella, rolling her eyes. “I do not know why so many people desire it, other than for the chance to run one’s household, and that sounds like a lot of work if you ask me.”

  Flickers of angry flames started to curl around Olivia’s heart. To be so flippant, and on her own wedding day!

  “You should consider whether the Duke of Larnwick thinks that way,” she said curtly, moving to her bed where the beautiful wedding gown, made to her exact specifications, had been laid out. “Now, we need to get you into this gown. Shall I call for Williams?”

  Their lady’s maid was around here somewhere. If she just rang the bell –

  “No, leave it for a moment,” said Isabella. She had stepped over to the window and was looking out with a strange expression. Her features softened, and a smile lifted her lips.

  And then it was gone, and she was pouting again. “The duke is lucky to have me, you know, Livvy. I am sure he will…he will have nothing to complain about.”

  “Well, I think he deserves better,” said Olivia in an unguarded moment.

  Isabella’s eyes narrowed.

  God in his Heaven, what possessed her to say such a thing! Olivia looked quickly at the wedding gown and tried to collect herself. This was going to lead to one of their age-old arguments. She just knew it.

  Isabella looked out the window again. “Marriage is supposed to be an adventure, isn’t it?”

  Olivia hesitated. “Yes.”

  “But an adventure should be taken with someone you entirely trust, who you love,” said Isabella in a strange voice. “Someone you can depend on. It isn’t worth taking on the adventure if it is with the wrong person. And what if you don’t want that particular adventure? What if you want…something else?”

  Olivia placed the gown back on the bed. “Something else? What else is there?”

  “Isabella,” said Olivia, taking a step toward her sister. “Is…is everything quite well?”

  Her sister smiled. “I was just joking, do not mind me. Are my earbobs here?”

  Olivia turned to look, utterly lost. “No…no, they must be in your bedchamber.”

  “I will go and retrieve them.”

  Isabella was gone before Olivia could say anymore, so she sat in the window seat as she waited. They were going to be late, there was no doubt of that now, but the bride was supposed to be late, wasn’t she?

  At least this second Lymington wedding could not be as disastrous as the first.

  Olivia pushed away the thought. She was not going to think of that. She couldn’t. Besides, Isabella was the older sister, and they had grown apart over the years. When the duke of Larnwick had been introduced to them, it had been as ‘the Lymington twins’.

  Her gaze had drifted back to the carriage standing outside their home, which suddenly jerked forward hurriedly and raced down the street at a great pace.

  That had been two years ago, the duke’s proposal. Since then, he had grown in her estimations more and more, but that did not matter. It was Isabella whom he had requested in marriage, and that was who would marry him today.

  The clock chimed the half-hour, and Olivia looked up hurriedly. So lost in her thoughts, she had entirely forgotten the time.

  “Isabella,” she called out. “Did you find the earbobs?”

  There was no reply.

  Olivia sighed. She had undoubtedly caught sight of her hair in a slightly different angle in a looking glass and was even now attempting to perfect it.

  “Isabella!”

  Her sister did not answer. Olivia swept out of her bedchamber and crossed the corridor into her sister’s.

  It was empty. Isabella was not there. Frowning, Olivia peered into the adjoining dressing room, but there was no sign of her sister. Two gold earbobs lay on the dressing table, untouched.

  They were, however, beside a note written in Isabella’s strong hand.

  Olivia’s heart went cold. No. This could not be happening, not again.

  She reached for the note and read hastily.

  I cannot do it. I cannot go through with this wedding, and if you knew the truth, you would not ask me to. I am more sorry than I can say—when I think of those wonderful times in our favorite place, I know you will all find it in your heart to forgive me. I am gone, and you will not find me. I am sure His Grace, the Duke of Larnwick, will not be too upset.

  Chapter Two

  “I cannot recall ever being so upset!” exploded Colin Vaughn, Duke of Larnwick.

  Head throbbing, every inch of his body ached with the repressed fury that was coursing through his veins. It was all he could do not to shout again.

  He had to control himself. He had to be better than this, but how could she do this to him?

  “Now, Your Grace, I-I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable,” began Mr. Lymington.

  “Oh, spare me the theatrics, sir. I do not hold you accountable for this,” snapped Colin.

  That was true, at least. The last two years had taught him far more than he could ever have expected about his future bride. Most betrothals lasted a few months. Here he was, more than two years after securing the affections—ha!—of the woman who today was supposed to become his wife.

  Isabella Lymington. Where was she? Where had she gone? And why did she think it appropriate to treat him in such a despicable manner?

  Colin tried to calm his breathing. This was getting him nowhere, and with every passing moment, his bride was escaping off into God knows what direction without him. Without any consideration for him at all. God’s teeth that she would act such a way!

  Mrs. Lymington was wringing her hands, muttering about misunderstandings, but Colin paid her no heed. It was clear the family was as shocked as he was, with no conniving here. They had all believed Isabella would marry him that morning, and none was more upset than her mother at her sudden disappearance.

  Colin reached the end of the Lymingtons’ drawing room and turned to pace back in the opposite direction. The movement calmed him, helped him to think
, though there were no great ideas surfacing at the moment.

  That she would do this to him! After he had been so understanding, so accommodating of her bizarre decisions to change the wedding date so often. Had he not been caring, loyal, respectful? And this was the way she repaid him!

  “Never before have I felt like this!” he exploded, unable to keep it within. “To be treated in such a manner, like a common gentleman! That wench!”

  He was a duke of the realm! To be treated such was abominable, not to be tolerated.

  Colin’s lungs were on fire as they attempted to draw in sufficient breath for his rage. His heart pounded, a heavy beat he was sure all in the drawing room would hear.

  He should have seen this coming. Isabella Lymington had made a fool of him, and his anger was so primal, so instinctual, he was not entirely sure whether he would communicate it coherently.

  Isabella Lymington. She was beautiful, wealthy, and relatively well-born. He had not needed her to have a title, just to take his own! How dare she do this to him? To a Larnwick!

  But no one made a fool of Colin Vaughn. No one.

  “Does she have any idea what she has done?” he said, the words pouring out before he could stop. “Do you think she comprehends what I will say to her when I catch her?”

  “Catch – catch her?” spluttered Mr. Lymington, staring at Colin as though the younger gentleman was mad. “What do you mean, catch her?”

  “You cannot mean to go after her, Your Grace,” Mrs. Lymington said with some surprise, her hand still at her chest.

  Colin stopped his pacing and stared at the two parents. Well, behind every young woman who had no idea how to behave were a set of parents who had no idea what was due someone of his rank, he supposed. He shouldn’t be surprised. These socially inferior wealthy types came through trade but had little idea how to hold themselves.

  Immediately as the thought crossed his mind, Colin censured himself for the injustice of that silent remark. It came from his bitterness, his vanity, nothing else. The poor Lymingtons looked just as confused as to why Isabella had done this as he was.

  “I certainly will go after her if I can,” he said aloud. “She is my bride, the woman who is to be my wife. You think I would just accept a paltry note like this, with no questions answered, no attempt to restore her to my side?”

  Besides, Colin thought to himself, Isabella Lymington needed to be brought back home, made to marry him, and shown what her place as a woman was. This girl, what did she think she was doing?

  In that moment, his gaze slipped over to the silent occupant of the drawing room. Miss Lymington, the younger twin. It was rather disorientating, looking over and seeing a woman who was the mirror image of his betrothed sitting there quite happily.

  But of course, it wasn’t Isabella. It was Olivia, the silent and better-behaved twin sister.

  Colin smiled wryly. He had considered Isabella…well, more exciting. More dramatic, a lady more likely to keep him entertained. There had been little else to choose between them when he first met them two years ago, save that one was the elder.

  Miss Lymington noticed his gaze and colored. “Please calm yourself, Mama, Papa. I am sure it will be possible to find Isabella, and…”

  “But what would be the point in finding her!” said her father in a despondent tone, dropping into an armchair and allowing his head to fall into his hands. “Oh, that this should happen to us, and after it already—”

  “Maurice!”

  Colin glanced at Mrs. Lymington, whose cheeks were scarlet. What was all that about?

  “I mean,” said Mr. Lymington hastily, “after the wedding has already been postponed through no fault of your own, Your Grace.”

  The hackles on the back of Colin’s neck rose again. “Yes, this is certainly not the first time your daughter has prevented me from making her my duchess. One would start to think that she doesn’t wish to marry me!”

  He had said those last few words almost as a joke, something for them to laugh at, to break the tension in the room. What he had not expected was for the sister to flush and the parents to exchange a worried look.

  Colin glared at Miss Lymington, and though she flushed, she did not look away.

  “Mama, I wish you would calm yourself,” she said a little wearily as her mother raised her handkerchief to her eyes once more. “I wish you would not become so hysterical when we have no reason to suppose Isabella is in great danger. All we know is that she is gone.”

  “Yes, gone!” snapped Colin. “Hastening away, does that not strike you as odd?”

  Miss Lymington ignored him. “Mama, the world has hardly come to an end.”

  “That is easy for you to say!” shot back her mother. “You do not have a daughter missing, out there somewhere in the world with no one to care for her and no one to protect her! Is she warm? Is she safe? Has she eaten today, and how will she eat tomorrow?”

  Colin swallowed. He had not considered that. She could be in grave danger, and as her betrothed, he was powerless to help her.

  Though he could not help but think savagely, she would not be in that position if she had not run away!

  “I do not understand it, myself,” said Mr. Lymington, raising his head from his hands and looking at his daughter as though she would provide all answers. “I mean, Isabella has been vocal about her excitement for the wedding preparations. Gown, cake, even the flowers in the church had to be perfect. She showed no disinclination for the day before.”

  “Except,” said Miss Lymington dryly, “that this is the sixth wedding date, and once again, we have missed it.”

  “Yes, yes, good point,” said Colin. “Always the date has been pushed back, and always at Isabella’s request. Is there a better example of a woman who does not wish to get married?”

  There was silence in the Lymington drawing room as his words echoed, and Colin could see they had hit home for Mr. and Mrs. Lymington. Finally, they seemed to realize that though they were certainly not responsible for her actions, not entirely, Colin thought they should probably have realized that something was amiss before today.

  Colin returned to his pacing. Moving kept him calmer, helped regulate the fury still coursing through his veins.

  It was all too embarrassing for words. What was it he had said to Braedon at the ball he had thrown in Isabella’s honor not weeks ago?

  “And each time it is postponed, it is almost as though the blasted woman does not wish to marry me!”

  And what had he said to Braedon when they had gone on a ride?

  “It has been arranged for so long, it would be a scandal if either of us canceled.”

  It was tragic; that’s what it was, Colin thought fiercely. It didn’t seem possible that after all of his agonizing, it was Isabella who had decided to leave him!

  Colin’s thoughts were interrupted by the loud sniffs emanating from Mrs. Lymington, and he looked at her with a little more compassion now the immediate fury had calmed some. No mother should see her daughter so disgraced, but she was not the only one who had been proven to be a fool by Isabella Lymington’s actions.

  “…could have done something?” Mr. Lymington was muttering to his daughter, and Colin could see from the other side of the room that Miss Lymington was quietly refuting her father’s comments. “You must have known, must have noticed…”

  Colin swallowed. This was not what happened to men of fortune and good reputation. Isabella was mocking him, even though she was not here. It was her mere absence that did it.

  Christ, this was embarrassing. Girls without titles were not supposed to jilt dukes!

  “–should have told us anything you suspected…” Mr. Lymington was saying.

  Colin sighed and sat heavily in an armchair on the other side of the room. God, he could barely stand to stay here, but what other choice did he have? There was nowhere else he could go in London tonight without causing comment. Even if he went back to his rooms or his club, there would undoubtedly be someone to
espy him and report to the scandal sheets that the Duke of Larnwick did not spend his wedding night with his bride in the Lymington house!

  He would be the laughingstock of London as soon as this got out, he thought dully. It would not be long. You could never keep anything secret in society, not for more than a day.

  “Well, Your Grace, we at least have a few days to decide what to do.”

  Colin looked up. Mr. Lymington had obviously decided to leave his daughter alone for the present and was now approaching him with a sycophantic smile.

  His heart sank. Christ alive, what now?

  “What to do?” Colin said blankly. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “We have informed the guests that the wedding has been…postponed,” said Mr. Lymington delicately. “I am sure you will not mind me saying so, Your Grace, but I am afraid it did not take anyone by surprise.”

  Colin felt blood rush to his head and forced himself to stay seated. The man did not understand that this great insult to the Larnwick name could not go unpunished. Did they think they could merely put out a story like that and then do nothing?

  “We must go after her,” he said. “I will leave in the morning and bring her back to marry me.”

  Mr. Lymington glanced at his wife for support. “Just a misunderstanding, Your Grace, a simple misunderst–”

  “Misunderstanding?” exploded Colin, rising to his feet once again. “Dear God, Mrs. Lymington, Miss Lymington, but your daughter has absconded her family home, her safety, her reputation, all to avoid matrimony to myself! You call that a misunderstanding!”

  As he spoke, Colin caught the gaze of Miss Lymington in the corner. She was…not exactly glaring, but the look she was giving him was not a million miles away from disdain.

  Disdain? What on earth could she lay at his door in this mess of an engagement?

  “Just a simple misunderstanding…” Mr. Lymington was muttering.

  Colin rolled his eyes. He had aligned himself with this family, thinking it would be a quick marriage with a generous dowry, and he could disappear back to Scotland where he belonged. Here he was, two years later, stuck in London with an incompetent father and a mother and sister who had apparently not seen a single sign of Isabella’s intended escape!