Silas might strike some people as an odd choice for best man. After all, he was Morwenna’s brother-in-law. But he remained Garson’s closest friend, and despite some awkwardness after that disastrous engagement party
, their friendship had eventually settled back into its old amity.
Silas looked tidier than usual, thanks to the attentions of his wife Caroline, who sat in the congregation wearing a spectacular bronze silk gown. The man’s shock of light brown hair was almost neat, and he hadn’t yet started tugging at his neck cloth to loosen it.
“She’ll be here.”
Garson wished he felt as confident as he sounded. He’d spent most of the last three weeks in Derbyshire, preparing Beardsley Hall for his bride’s arrival. Now he wondered if he should have stayed in Dorset and devoted that time to courting her. When she’d accepted his proposal, she’d looked uncertain. This delay in her arrival now hinted that her doubts had only grown during their time apart.
Last night after he’d booked into the frankly inadequate inn, he’d gone up to Cavell Court, intending to soothe any fears Jane harbored about their imminent wedding. But the house had been packed with guests, including her sister Susan and the unruly brood of nieces and nephews. While Jane had seemed pleased to see him, they hadn’t managed a private moment to talk.
But as she said, she was a woman of her word. She wouldn’t let him down.
He hoped.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her.” Silas’s hazel eyes were somber with what Garson recognized as concern. Naturally he was bloody concerned. He knew better than most people how deeply his friend had loved Morwenna. Still did, damn it.
Now Garson set his face in a new direction. He meant to make the best of things with the wife he’d chosen. He owed Jane his allegiance, and he intended to live up to the promises he spoke today. Even if it killed him.
“You’ll like her,” he said. Silas and Caro had reached the inn late last night, after a broken axle interrupted their journey, so he hadn’t yet introduced them to his bride. “She’s a cracker of a girl.”
Jane was a cracker, but that didn’t stop his heart from sinking when he heard a rustle and a murmur behind him. The organist burst into a triumphal air. Garson turned to see Jane Norris step into the church with her sister Susan a few paces behind her.
For a dizzying moment, everything blurred, and he saw a slender, dark-haired woman with deep blue eyes walking toward him. Then he blinked and returned to harsh reality.
Except that wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t Jane’s fault that he pined for his lost love, especially when she’d clearly done her best to be a credit to him today. She’d made a better fist of her appearance than he’d expected. The pale-faced dowd who had accepted his proposal looked almost pretty. She didn’t exactly glow with happiness—but then neither of them was under any illusion that this was a love match, thank God.
Her cream dress was bang up to fashion, and it fitted much better than the gray monstrosity from three weeks ago. Her wedding gown clung close enough to hint at a narrow waist and gracefully rounded hips. He’d already noticed her magnificent bosom—he was a man, after all—but on today’s evidence, the rest of her was just as fine.
He’d been anticipating the night to come as something of a chore. Now his blood pumped faster at the prospect of unwrapping those luscious curves.
“She’s lovely,” Silas said beside him.
“She is,” he said, and knew he hadn’t hidden his surprise when Silas looked troubled.
“You’re a lucky bastard.”
“Yes, I am,” he said and meant it.
Jane looked up to send him a shy smile. He smiled back.
She wore a lavender bonnet, and as she approached, he saw how the color lent a hint of blue to her gray eyes. There was even some pink in her cheeks.
She wasn’t the bride of his heart. But she was certainly a woman to take pride in. She had courage and heart, and she was smart. With good will and hard work, surely he and Jane could create a fulfilling life together. He waited while she passed her bouquet of hothouse flowers, courtesy of Silas’s greenhouses, to her sister, then took her hand.
As her fingers trembled in his grasp, his sensual interest stirred anew. He’d never expected to desire his bride, but he garnered some encouraging signs that he might be mistaken.
With an unaccustomed surge of hope, he turned to face the vicar.
*
So she was married.
Outside the church, Jane took her place in an open carriage bedecked in pretty pink satin ribbons and more of Silas’s exotic lilies and orchids. Thank goodness it was only a short ride to the house. The day turned colder, and she could smell snow on the way. Her cashmere shawl, while colorful, wasn’t proof against the air. Although perhaps she couldn’t entirely blame the bleak weather for the chill settling in her bones.
The carriage creaked as Hugh stepped up to join her. In his severe black, he looked marvelous, the perfect bridegroom. His elegance only fed the nerves seething in her stomach.