“It already is a huge scandal,” Gregory muttered.
“Yes, but not as much as if she’d said yes,” his mother said. “Not that I am glad for the outcome. You know I wish you nothing but your heart’s happiness. But she will be looked upon approvingly for her choice. She will be viewed as a sensible girl.”
Gregory felt one corner of his mouth lift into a wry smile. “And I, a lovesick fool.”
No one contradicted him.
After a moment his mother said, “You are taking this rather well, I must say.”
Indeed.
“I would have thought—” She broke off. “Well, it matters not what I would have thought, merely what actually is.”
“No,” Gregory said, turning sharply to look at her. “What would you have thought? How should I be acting?”
“It is not a question of should,” his mother said, clearly flustered by the sudden questions. “Merely that I would have thought you would seem . . . angrier.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then turned back to the window. They were traveling along Piccadilly, heading west toward Hyde Park. Why wasn’t he angrier? Why wasn’t he putting his fist through the wall? He’d had to be dragged from the church and forcibly stuffed into the carriage, but once that had been done, he had been overcome by a bizarre, almost preternatural calm.
And then something his mother had said echoed in his mind.
You know I wish you nothing but your heart’s happiness.
His heart’s happiness.
Lucy loved him. He was certain of it. He had seen it in her eyes, even in the moment she’d refused him. He knew it because she had told him so, and she did not lie about such things. He had felt it in the way she had kissed him, and in the warmth of her embrace.
She loved him. And whatever had made her go ahead with her marriage to Haselby, it was bigger than she was. Stronger.
She needed his help.
“Gregory?” his mother said softly.
He turned. Blinked.
“You started in your seat,” she said.
Had he? He hadn’t even noticed. But his senses had sharpened, and when he looked down, he saw that he was flexing his fingers.
“Stop the carriage.”
Everyone turned to face him. Even Hyacinth, who had been determinedly glaring out the window.
“Stop the carriage,” he said again.
“Why?” his mother asked, clearly suspicious.
“I need air,” he replied, and it wasn’t even a lie.
Colin knocked on the wall. “I’ll walk with you.”
“No. I prefer to be alone.”
His mother’s eyes widened. “Gregory . . . You don’t plan to . . .”
“Storm the church?” he finished for her. He leaned back, giving her a casually lopsided smile. “I believe I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day, wouldn’t you think?”
“They’ll have said their vows by now, anyway,” Hyacinth put in.