Hunt continued to stare at him. “I can see from your expression you’re trying to talk yourself out of it.” He stood and stretched. “Don’t bother, I tried it myself and it doesn’t work.”
With those formidable words, Hunt downed the rest of his brandy, placed the glass on the table next to his chair and walked to the door. “Time for bed, little brother. You have a big day tomorrow.”
* * *
Dante tugged once again on his neckcloth. Hunt’s valet, who had insisted on helping him dress, although Dante had been dressing himself for years, had tied the damn thing too tight.
His brother, Driscoll stood next to him at the altar as they waited for the bride to arrive. He checked his timepiece for the tenth time. Or maybe eleventh, he’d lost count. “Is it some sort of custom to be late to one’s own wedding?”
“Not if you’re the groom. Then it’s a scandal,” Driscoll returned.
“How the devil do you know? You’re no more a member of the Beau Monde than I am.”
“Then why did you ask me?”
“Boredom.”
Just then there was a rustle at the back of the church. The door had opened and Lydia’s cousin, Marion, who was her bridesmaid, stepped through and turned to help Lydia enter.
All the blood rushed from his face to his feet. Thankfully it hadn’t made a stop at his male member which would have been quite an embarrassment with a church full of people staring at him.
He took a deep breath. This was it. He was actually getting married. A day that in his mind had always brought on itchy skin. Instead, today it only brought him peace at finally seeing Lydia heading toward him, smiling brightly through her veil as she started down the aisle on her father’s arm.
His bride wore a white satin gown, snug in the bodice and pulled tight around her stomach. The veil on her head covered her face and reached to the end of her gown. He had to smile because based on the Lydia he knew, he didn’t think she chose the ensemble. She was far too practical for that. Most likely his brothers’ wives pushed her into it.
Sterling handed his daughter over to him with a smile almost as bright as Lydia’s. The man had been almost giddy during the marriage contract negotiations. He had apparently given up on ever seeing his daughter married and settled.
Instead of linking her arm to his, Dante took her hand and fingers clasped together, they faced the vicar.
The ceremony was long and boring. Dante wanted to get on with the service so they could have a quick breakfast and head for the hotel where he’d booked a room for three nights. He’d arranged with the hotel to have all their meals delivered to their door since he had no intention of letting Lydia out of the bed and warned his brother not to expect to see him at the club during that time. He’d even kept the hotel a secret.
Finally, they faced each other and spoke their vows. Dante took the ring from Driscoll and placed it on Lydia’s finger. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
They grinned at each other like a couple of urchins. Then, despite not knowing if it was allowed or not, Dante pulled up the veil covering his wife’s face and tugged her into his arms and kissed her. Long and hard, until the vicar coughed, and several titters came from the those gathered in the church.
They turned and f
aced their guests and after a short visit to the office to sign the marriage book, made their way down the aisle to greet the attendees.
Dante smiled and shook hands all the time wondering how fast Lydia could eat her breakfast without becoming ill.
19
Lydia climbed into the carriage with Dante right behind her. He slammed the door and tapped on the ceiling to alert the driver. He slumped in his seat and sighed. “Thank God that’s over with.”
She raised her brows. “Dante, that was our wedding ceremony. I hope you weren’t too bored. I supposed we could have made arrangements to make it more entertaining for you, so you wouldn’t fall asleep.” She hadn’t intended for her words to come out quite so terse, but honestly, ‘twas not promising that the first words one’s new husband spoke when they were alone was to profess his relief that the wedding was over. Did he feel the same way about the marriage?
He immediately straightened. “Not at all.” He paused. “I mean, yes, if I were to be honest, the wedding ceremony was a tad long. Didn’t you think so?” He smiled his little boy, rakish smile. “Be honest.”
Gad, she hated how he read her so easily. Of course it was long, boring, and truth be told she was glad it was over. But she would not start off their marriage by agreeing with everything he said. She sniffed and looked out the window. “It was longer than I expected.”
Dante burst out laughing, reached over and pulled her onto his lap. At least she thought it was his lap. With so many layers of clothing on, it was genuinely hard to tell. He pushed the veil over her shoulder. “Are you even in there? With all this—” he waved his hand around “—clothing, I can barely feel you.”
Drat, she had to agree with him again. This was not a good precedent to set. “Your sisters-in-law were a bit enthusiastic about having a proper wedding.”
He smirked. “As opposed to having an improper one? That sounds like a great idea, why didn’t we have one of those?”
“Dante, stop it.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his shenanigans.