His Black Sheep Bride (Aristocratic Grooms 1)

“Pia, please,” Belinda said, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “Doomed is committing bigamy.”

“Which you didn’t!”

“Almost.”

“N-no one will want to hire a wedding planner who’s a security risk to wealthy and titled guests!” Pia wailed.

“Did you really sleep with Hawkshire?” Belinda asked.

“He was Mr. Fielding at the time!”

“Oh, Pia.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Tamara said at the same time.

Naturally, Tamara thought darkly, Sawyer was friends with the duke as well as with Belinda’s yet-to-be-annulled husband. Of course both of Sawyer’s good friends would be disreputable.

“Well, it seems like we all had a great wedding,” Tamara said. “Sorry, Belinda.”

A sigh sounded over the phone. “No apologies necessary,” Belinda said. “Not even the best spin doctor could put a good face on Saturday’s disaster. It’s not every day a bride almost acquires two husbands.”

They all shared in some self-conscious laughter.

“Well, what made Saturday so bad for you, Tamara?” Belinda asked.

“In short?”

“Yes.”

“Sawyer Langsford. Lord Odious himself.”

Pia giggled.

“Oh, I don’t think Sawyer is so terrible,” Belinda remarked.

“Putting aside his friendship with Colin, you mean?” Tamara asked.

“Okay, I see your point,” Belinda conceded.

“Sawyer is good-looking,” Pia said. “Those topaz eyes, and all that rich, burnished hair—”

Tamara made a face. “Whose side are you on?”

“Well, yours.”

“Good.”

“What about Sawyer’s presence put you out?” Belinda asked. “You’ve socialized before without any problem, as far as I could tell.”

“Because we’ve always ignored each other,” Tamara replied. “But my father seeing the both of us in the wedding procession reminded him of the cherished idea that he and the previous earl had of having their children marry each other.”

Pia spluttered. “You and Sawyer?”

“Hilarious, I know,” Tamara responded.

“Oh, rats,” Belinda said. “If I’d known, I’d have suggested to Tod that he pick another groomsman.”

Tamara grimaced. “It’s not something I like to talk about. In fact, it’s an idea I’ve been hoping was dead and buried. But then Sawyer made it clear on Saturday that he’s willing to entertain the idea.”

Pia and Belinda gasped.

Exactly, Tamara thought.

When she’d heard Sawyer was to be in the wedding party, she’d figured she was a big enough girl to handle it. But she hadn’t foreseen Sawyer’s proposal.

“You and Sawyer are so different!” Pia said. “You’re the Bridget Jones to his Mr. Darcy.”

Tamara closed her eyes in existential pain. “Please. Bridget and Darcy ended up together.”

“Oops, sorry!”

Tamara knew Pia was a romantic. Being a wedding planner suited her friend’s personality. The only surprising thing was that Pia herself wasn’t married. But then, Pia had had her own experience with an odious man.

“So what’s next for you two?” Tamara asked, wanting to change the subject.

“I’m flying to England for a few days on business.”

“And I’ll be in Atlanta to consult with a client on a wedding.”

“Abandoning the field of battle?” Tamara couldn’t resist joking.

“Never!” Belinda declared.

“In a sense,” Pia said at the same time.

“I’m regrouping and marshalling my forces,” Belinda went on, “including getting a lawyer.”

“In meantime,” Pia said, “I’ll be coming up with some spectacular ideas for Belinda’s second act as a bride.” She added uncertainly, “Or should I say, third act…?”

There was a pause as everyone seemed to wince.

Then Tamara noticed a light flashing on her phone. “On that note, I think I have a call coming in.”

As Tamara ended the call with Belinda and Pia, she wondered for which of the three of them Saturday would prove to be most portentous.

Her parting exchange with Sawyer came back to her.

She’d told him they were done, and he, damn him, had just replied insouciantly, “Not nearly, but it’s been a pleasure so far.”

One week later, Tamara wondered at her rotten luck.

Sawyer, again.

Usually she ran into him only once every few months. Maybe a couple of times a year.

But here he was—at a big fashion party taking place in a large TriBeCa loft. Minor celebrities, socialites and journalists were here to appreciate an up-and-coming designer.

But what was Sawyer doing here?

Tamara had seen a reporter for Sawyer’s newspaper, The New York Intelligencer, at the party. Sawyer’s own presence certainly was not necessary.

She knew he attended his share of parties, but this one was not the type he usually attended. Last time she checked, he didn’t have a particular interest in fashion. In fact, she was sure his suits came from an old and stuffy Savile Row tailor with a warrant from the queen.

Sawyer’s presence was a reason to keep up her guard, but at least she had body armor tonight in the form of a date.

She looked around. Tom hadn’t yet returned with their drinks.

As she scanned the room, however, she noticed Sawyer walking toward her. Rats.

She turned, but just as she ducked behind the heavy velvet curtain that encircled the perimeter of the room—obviously in place to hide blank walls and elevator doors from the view of the assembled guests—a familiar voice reached her.

“Leaving the field of battle?”

She halted, irritated that his words echoed her own to Belinda, but unwilling to show him any reaction.

Squaring her shoulders, she swung back toward him. “Never.”

He gave a predatory smile. “Good.”

She waved her hand toward the curtain to indicate the crowd on the other side. “I was simply trying to avoid getting blood on the designer labels in our latest skirmish.”

“Thoughtful of you.”

She tilted her lips in the semblance of a smile. “You might try it sometime.”

After a moment, he had the indecency to chuckle.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted.

“I received an invitation, I accepted.”