Edith Layton (13 page)

Because this time she didn’t know if she could bear it. This time she was more in love than she’d ever been before. It wasn’t a marriage of convenience for her. She wouldn’t deceive herself. She’d been half in love with him when she’d left London. His kindness, his kisses, and his company had taken her all the rest of the way. If she had to marry any man, she was glad it was Rafe, because she’d never marry because she had to. She loved him, utterly. She couldn’t like the way they’d been thrown together. But she could never regret it. Unless he did. Where was he?

The wedding was in one week’s time. He was due
back. He was not there yet. And now, at last, in spite of all her efforts, doubts began to creep past the threshold of certainty.

She folded her new gown carefully, then quickly dressed again. Idle hands made for idle thoughts. There were things to do. Guests would be arriving. His parents were coming; she’d much to do. Doing her errands would banish doubt. Until the night.

When she got downstairs she saw her parents and Eric in a huddle near a huge box in the front hall. They were speaking softly and secretly, and looked up at Brenna with guilty expressions that told her they’d been talking about her. She’d seen it before. She missed her step and almost stumbled. She gripped the stair rail with whitened knuckles and abruptly stopped.

“It’s a wedding gift,” Eric said quickly, seeing her sudden terror. “From Rafe’s parents. We were just wondering why they sent it on instead of bringing it themselves.”

“I think they decided to send it ahead because their coach is filled with clothing,” her mama said. “They must mean to stay on a while here.”

Her father held out the note that had come with the package. Brenna crossed the room quickly, took the note, opened and read it. She looked up and managed a wavering smile. “Well,” she told them in too cheery tones, “it seems they can’t come, after all. His mama is taken ill, she says. An upset stomach. She invites us to stay with them after the wedding.”

“Oh,” her mama said.

“Well, but if the woman’s sickly, there’s good rea
son to stay home,” the colonel said gruffly. “But the brother?”

“Rafe says there’s little affection between them,” Brenna said abruptly, folding the note again.

“His father can hardly leave his mama behind,” her mother said nervously, seeing Brenna’s distress.

“They’re unthinking, not deliberately rude,” Eric agreed, his eyes on his sister. “It’s in keeping with the little Rafe let slip about them. He read me some of their letters when we were in hospital. A man could die of frostbite from them, whatever his wounds. Never think they disapprove of you, Bren. The problem is more likely that they don’t care who he marries. There’d be no reason for them to disapprove of you. They had no bride in mind for him. We have sufficient name for them. All their concern is for his brother.”

“Well, we’ll be Rafe’s family from now on,” his mother said stoutly, “so we’ll scarcely miss them.”

“It’s their loss, all round,” her husband said.

Brenna smiled at the way they rallied round her, determined now to give her family—and his own, in time—to Rafe.

But as the appointed day for his return wore on and Rafe didn’t appear, Brenna’s manner grew more absent, her smile more strained.

Her brother intercepted her on one of her many inconsequential busywork errands. “Bren,” Eric said gently, “stop teasing yourself. You’re looking for the worm in the apple, aren’t you? There is none.”

She nodded. She wanted to believe him and wished she could.

He arrived at sunset. The horses and coach came up the drive with a clatter. Rafe sprang down from his horse, tossed the reins to a grinning stableboy, and took the shallow steps to the Fords’ front door two at a time.

She should have waited in the drawing room, like a lady. She could have had them call her down from her room, so he wouldn’t guess how worried she’d been. But Brenna heard the commotion and went flying out the door, and almost ran straight into him.

He was taken aback. He seemed, for a moment, hesitant. Then he opened his arms and took her in his embrace and, in spite of everyone watching, kissed her.

The Fords stood in their doorway, smiling.

But the earl of Drummond, from high on his horse, looked down, and looked concerned. Until Eric hailed him. Then, as if remembering where he was and who was watching, he smiled too.

I
t was a time for celebration, a riotously funny dinner party, filled with jests and bright conversation. The earl of Drummond could lighten any gathering when he put his mind to it, and he did. He knew just what to say to make men laugh and just how to say a thing to a lady to make her smile. Rafe was very grateful to his friend.

He didn’t realize Drum also knew how to draw him out, making his candid and wry observations an integral part of the fun. Brenna laughed, and joked, and glowed with pleasure. Her father and brother and Rafe—all the men in her life—were together, liked each other, and were very like each other too. She exchanged many grins with her mama. This was right. This was the way it ought to be, should have been, and with continued luck, would remain.

When dinner was over and they rose from the table, Rafe surprised them all.

“No port for me right now, no snuff or smoke, thank you. I’d like a few words with my bride-to-be,” he told the others. “So if we may have some privacy?”

He said it gently; he wore a smile when he did. It was only habit that made Brenna’s heart catch. There had been too many surprises in her life. She’d been told bad news too often to take any departure from the norm easily. Especially this close to her scheduled wedding.

She rose slowly to her feet. Her father and brother grinned knowingly; her mother wore a fond and reminiscent smile. But Brenna saw Rafe’s friend Drum shoot him a sharp look, and her fears grew. Rafe caught up her hand and led her from the room. That hand was icy cold in his. Her dark eyes searched his expression when they got to the drawing room and he closed the door behind him.

He gathered her in his arms and kissed her.

She was surprised, then beguiled. As the touch of his mouth on hers increased, she put her arms round his shoulders and eagerly answered his growing urgency. They clung to each other. Though their kiss was sweet, they both felt its desperation, and drew apart at the same time with the same searching questions in their eyes.

She spoke first. “I didn’t know if you were really coming back,” she admitted.

He paused. Because for a time there he hadn’t
known either, and the guilt of it ate at him. His voice was gruff when he spoke. “I promised I would.”

“Well, but…promises,” she said with a little shrug.

He took her shoulders in his hands and held her, his gaze on hers. “I keep my word.”

“So I see,” she said, curiously unsatisfied, uneasy with something she didn’t understand. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

He dropped his hands. “My parents aren’t able to come to the wedding.”

“I know, they sent word, and a wedding gift.” She saw his expression. “She hasn’t gotten sicker, has she?”

“Mama? No, don’t worry. She gets just sick enough to avoid exerting herself.” He paced a step away, then back. He looked at her, shocked again at how he’d forgotten how vividly lovely she was. She was that, and clever, well-bred, and entirely blameless. He wanted to let her know that. He wanted to let the world know that. And he needed his parents to see how well he’d done.

“They don’t put much value on me,” he said. “Maybe they do, but they put more on their own comforts. But they do ask to meet you. We didn’t make firm plans for our honeymoon. Would you mind if I took you to meet them after the wedding?”

“No, of course not,” she said. “I want to meet them too.” She also wanted to understand how they could so offend their son, perhaps to help change that. “That’s fine. I’ve never been so far south. Odd, I’ve crossed the ocean, yet never seen much of England.”

He nodded, relieved. “It’s often like that. Well. Then. Good. Oh. I got you this, in London,” he said, reaching into his jacket. He withdrew a jeweler’s case and handed it to her.

She hesitated, then snapped it open. And gasped. A skein of brilliant red rubies burned against the dark cloth of the case; each was surrounded by a sparkling maze of diamonds that twinkled like shards of starlight even in the dim lamp-glow. She stared at it.

“Here, let me,” he said, taking the necklace from the case and holding it in the air in front of her.

Her hair was upswept tonight, so she only had to step into the circle of his arms and bend her neck. She felt his fingers brush against her skin and, as he worked on the clasp, felt his breath against the small hairs at the back of her neck, and shivered. “There,” he said, standing back, pleased. “Take a look.”

She walked to the pier mirror on the wall and gazed at herself. Her hand went to touch the shining glory that hung like an enchanted spiderweb against her breast. She snatched her hand away when she saw her blunt fingers with their bitten nails. She felt like a washerwoman daring to touch a bit of exquisite lace. This was a dainty lady’s necklace, delicate, intricate, more suited to Annabelle than herself. Had he been thinking of Annabelle even as he bought her a bride’s gift?

“The rubies suit you,” he said with satisfaction. “They match your lips. I saw bigger ones, but they looked too heavy. These are bright, particularly fine, I thought. The diamonds are to make the thing look
even lighter. They go well with your hair too. The salesman said rubies can look ponderous if you’re not careful. I got you a ring to match,” he added when she didn’t speak.

He held out a smaller box to her, but she could hardly see it because of the way the sudden tears made her eyes swim.

“Bren!” he said, taking her into his arms. She buried her face against his jacket, but she couldn’t hide her emotion from him. He bent his head. “Weeping?” he asked softly. “Don’t. Glad I didn’t give you that tiara to match now. Would have overset you entirely. Bren, Bren,” he said, craning his neck trying to get a look at her face. “Is it that you like them, or don’t?”

She managed a chuckle.

“I don’t have the family baubles,” he said, rubbing her back, trying to ease her unexpected display of emotion. “They go to my brother. They wouldn’t suit you anyway, old cabochon cuts of stones in settings heavy as lead. And when his son marries, his wife has to give them back, for his bride to wear. These are yours, entirely. Forever. Why are you still crying?”

“Because they’re beautiful.”

“Oh,” he said. His hands stilled. “I should have got ugly ones?”

She laughed. She raised her head. He kissed her.

And then they’d nothing more to say aloud for a long while.

There was a party the night before the wedding.

Tidbury hadn’t seen such glittering guests in all its
history, not even that time bluff Prince Hal had stopped for the night at the inn a few centuries before. He’d only had a bishop, some generals, and courtiers with him. The Fords had glittering members of the ton at their home tonight. How Prince Hal’s entourage had dressed and spoken was long forgotten. The residents of Tidbury lucky enough to have been invited vowed they’d never forget these guests. Brenna knew she never would.

She was introduced to attractive men and women, all of them poised and dressed to perfection. It was apparent they were Rafe’s good friends. They were kind to her, but it was plain as the nose on her face that they knew the gossip about why this marriage was going forth. Who didn’t? And so, however charming they were to her, it was clear they were inspecting her carefully, if covertly. She didn’t like it. But she didn’t blame them.

A radiant lady all in silvery silk, with tiger gold eyes and flaxen hair, glamorous as a fairy queen, put a little hand on Brenna’s sleeve a moment after they met. “You
are
beautiful!” she crowed. “Just as they said! You look so exotic, so Eastern, like an Arabian princess, though that devilish handsome brother of yours says you’re native as far back as the Druids, and related to Welsh royals no less! But not a bit high in the instep, or haughty with it, he said. Well, so I can see for myself. Oh. I don’t mean to presume, but what’s on my mind is on my tongue—at least that’s what my husband always says.”

“So I do, for all that changes it,” her husband replied. He was such an astonishingly handsome
gentleman that Brenna blinked. “Which is good,” he went on, with a fond look at his wife, “because I don’t want it changed. How else would I know what mischief you were up to? But, Miss Ford,” he added to Brenna, “my wife is only right. You’re every bit as lovely as we’d heard.”

“Well, she is,” his wife said. “But I think, after all, that compliments are unfair,” she added, seeing Brenna’s expression. “She can hardly agree or disagree, can she?”

“Ho,” Rafe said with a smile, “the queen of disagreement herself speaks! So it must be true. Brenna, these are old friends, Gilly and Damon Ryder.”

“And we’re older ones,” a tall, dangerous looking fellow, dressed immaculately in the latest fashion, said. He bowed. “Ewen Sinclair, Viscount Sinclair,” he said, introducing himself, and then more proudly, “and my wife, the lady Bridget.”

Brenna ducked a bow. The viscountess was lovely, her face unforgettably charming in spite of the thin scar on it. The scar, in fact, only called attention to her loveliness.

“Sinclair. Bridget,” Rafe said with a smile. “Glad you could make it.”

“There was no way we wouldn’t,” the viscountess said, surprised.

“There is one way,” her husband laughed. “We had to miss Gilly’s wedding, remember?”

“How is the little terror?” Drum asked.

“Terror,
huh!”
Gilly Ryder said. “As if she didn’t have your heart in her collection too!”

“Well, so she does,” Drum admitted. “It’s only
tragic that I gave it, along with my undying devotion, to the wench—and she doesn’t have three teeth in her pretty little head yet.”

“Four, this morning,” the viscountess laughed.

“As to that,” Rafe said, “too bad Wycoff and Lucy can’t come. They’re good friends too,” he told Brenna. “Just married as well. I’d have liked you to meet them. You will, in time. Sorry they won’t be here, but not for the reason for it. It’s good that there’ll soon be another in that family too.”

Brenna was glad of the flurry of conversation that followed that announcement. Rafe’s family hadn’t come. But it was clear that these elegant people constituted a family of his own choosing, and more, that they genuinely cared for him.

She hadn’t known he had so many firm friends of high rank. It made him seem even more unobtainable. She was going to wed him in a day. Did they think she’d cheated to do it? Charming as they were, did they look at her and see a phantom Lady Annabelle by her side, compare them, and find her wanting?

By the time they turned their attention back to her, Brenna was locked in embarrassed silence. It was good the musicians struck up a country dance. It saved her from trying to find something to say. The musicians earned their keep. She didn’t have to talk very much again that night. She could dance with her guests, mind her steps, and wait for the waltzes. Rafe claimed every one. Then he could hold her and she could look into his eyes and forget the past and the future, and revel in the present with him.

The bride dressed with trembling hands. With all she knew, there was much she didn’t know. It was a huge step she was taking.

“Don’t worry,” she answered her brother’s worried look when he came to escort her downstairs, “I’m sure. Terrified, yes. But I’m sure of what I’m doing.”

“It’s only that…” he paused. “Bren, seems I’m the one who couldn’t sleep last night. I had those famous prenuptial nerves. We’ve been pushing you to this. But you don’t have to do anything if your whole heart and soul isn’t in it. Don’t let Society make up your mind. Or us, either. This is belated, but it’s never too late. We’ll support you in whatever you decide to do. Whatever I said in the past—don’t let me influence you overmuch. I think Rafe’s a fine fellow. But I’m a man, and so I might not know what a woman wants in a man.”

“You? Admitting that?” she teased. “No,” she said more seriously, “I’m sure. I can’t like the circumstances. You’re right about that. But I can’t help liking him either.”

“‘Liking’?” he asked with a troubled look at her.

She ducked her head. She looked poised, finished, elegant, lovely. Red roses to match her new necklace and the vivid rust of her new velvet gown were fixed like a crown in her glossy black hair. But when she looked down, the shining white part in her hair showed how human and vulnerable she was. Eric frowned, even more concerned.

She looked up at her brother again, her eyes sincere. “I confess to feeling much more than that,” she told him softly. “But I liked him immediately. And I think the liking will make all the rest grow, and last a long, long time.”

He smiled. “Yes,” was all he said. But when they got downstairs, the first thing he did was to look to his father and nod. His father relaxed, at last, and took his daughter’s hand to bring her to the church.

It was a simple country wedding, but the sun shone on it. The guests were all in their best, the bride and groom uncommonly attractive, even for their wedding day. The groom was all in shades of brown and tan. His bright bronze hair and the bride’s russet gown matched the autumn blossoms she carried and complemented those that bedecked the ancient church. She went down the aisle, showing none of the apprehensions in her heart.

They met at the altar, Rafe all smiles, Brenna all blushes.

The congregation smiled upon them. Not all the gossip was banished. But not all had to be spoken today. Much was self-evident. The groom’s family wasn’t there. The bride once sat in this very church with another lad who everyone knew was her chosen groom. The very reason for this wedding had been noted and much discussed. But not today, since some of the guests clearly remembered a certain redheaded gentleman’s threats made at the inn in town on that evening not so long ago.

And so all the guests forgot the past as the wedding went forth, because weddings were about futures. And, too, the bride had a strapping brother and a fierce father, and the groom looked fit and dangerous, and everyone knew what they said about redheads and tempers.

As the bride and groom stood in front of the church, waiting for the carriage to take them to the wedding breakfast, Rafe said his good-byes along with the congratulations he accepted. He’d be gone after breakfast and wanted to be sure the right words were said when they could be.