Trouble at the Wedding by Laura Lee Guhrke Read Free Book Online

Waldorf. In fact, I’m not sure you can afford to stay here, either. Perhaps you should go to the Windermeres’ after all? It would be less expensive.”
    â€œOnly in some ways, Sylvia. As for what we can afford, we’re so far in debt, a few weeks at the Waldorf won’t make a damned bit of difference. Shall we go down, or have our meal sent up? They can do that here—room service, they call it.”
    Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door.
    â€œGood Lord,” Christian muttered. “My rooms are as lively today as the Doncaster Races. If that’s room service, I shall have to compliment the management on their perspicacity.”
    McIntyre entered from the bedroom. “Are ye in, sir?” he asked, pausing beside Christian.
    He glanced at his sister. “If it’s any young American woman with a mother tagging along, then no, I am not in.”
    McIntyre, a long-faced Scot with no sense of humor, simply bowed. “Verra good, sir.”
    Christian and Sylvia waited in the sitting room, which was obscured from the door by a painted Oriental screen, as McIntyre answered the knock. There was a low murmur of voices, then the door closed and McIntyre reappeared, a card in his hand.
    â€œA Mr. Ransom to see you, Your Grace. He requests a few moments, if you are free?”
    â€œRansom?” he echoed in surprise. “Arthur Ransom? Show him in,” he added as his valet nodded confirmation.
    â€œArthur Ransom is Annabel Wheaton’s uncle,” Sylvia murmured as McIntyre started back toward the door. “The girl we talked about, the heiress Rumsford is marrying. Why does her uncle want to see you?”
    â€œI have no idea,” he answered, and stepped forward to greet the lawyer as he was shown in. “Mr. Ransom, this is a welcome surprise.” He gestured to Sylvia, who had moved to stand beside him. “Are you acquainted with my sister, Lady Sylvia Shaw?”
    â€œI haven’t yet had the pleasure.” Mr. Ransom smiled, then he took up Sylvia’s hand and kissed it, making no effort to conceal his admiration. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
    â€œAnd I yours, Mr. Ransom,” she answered. “Your niece is to marry Lord Rumsford, I understand, and the earl was kind enough to include me among the invited—”
    She stopped, for there was no mistaking Ransom’s grimace at the mention of his niece’s upcoming wedding. Always sensitive to such nuances, Sylvia changed the subject at once. “Would you care for tea?” she asked, gesturing to the tray on the table.
    â€œThank you, ma’am, but tea’s something I’ve never been able to cotton much to. Besides, this isn’t really a social call, I’m afraid. I’ve come to see your brother on matter of business. That is,” he added, turning to Christian, “if you’re interested, Your Grace?”
    â€œOf course,” he answered, slanting a glance at his sister.
    Sylvia took her cue.
    â€œI shall leave the two of you to your discussions,” she said, reaching for her handbag, “and I shall toddle off to pack. I look forward to seeing you aboard ship, Mr. Ransom. Christian, I’ll send my maid to tell you when I’m ready to depart?”
    He nodded, and with that, Sylvia left the suite, allowing him to give the American his full attention. “Shall we sit down?” he asked, and gestured Ransom toward Sylvia’s vacated settee. Once the other man was seated, he started back over to the liquor cabinet. “Would you care for a drink? There’s quite a fine Scotch whiskey here, a tolerable Irish—”
    â€œIf there’s bourbon, count me in.”
    â€œBourbon?” He rummaged a bit amid the glass decanters. “Hmm, I don’t—”
    â€œAllow me, sir,” McIntyre interjected, stepping from behind the screen where he had just closed the door after Sylvia.