His mother nodded, a compassionate smile on her lovely lips. “And?”
“I know the worst that they say.” That Inès had come here to England because she was hunted, or marked by her family’s actions. Chances were that she had protectors, men or women who helped her or who paid her for her companionship. For her services. “I do not care.”
“You love her.”
“I do.”
His mother stood and stepped to him. He feared she would ask if his bride loved him. For that, he had a strong, instinctive feeling, but as of now, no words from her to affirm it.
He rose to his feet, and his mother arched up and kissed his cheek. “That is all I wished to know. I wish you the joy of that love.” She cupped his cheek. “I wish you to nurture it and tend it for decades to come, my dear son.”
He gathered her close and kissed her temple. “You are my treasure.”
“Ah, now you have a new one. Love her well. I know you will because you lavish that on me and your sisters and their families every day. I see how you spend it on your government and your country, too. I am proud to be your mother and proud you have chosen such a lovely bride. I wish you many happy days and joyous nights, great boons to your happiness and, please heaven, many children.”
“You have given me a fine example for all of that.” He hugged her to him. “Can we go now?”
She waved a finger in the air. “Never be late for your own wedding!”
#
Inès took the stairs in a rush. She needed to see Evan, put her hands in his and feel once again that this marriage was a joyous event.
At the open doors to the salon, she perceived the throng, and then her smiling groom. Countess Halsey stood with tears in her violet eyes. Beside her, Fee was beaming and Jessica just as delighted. Close by were three other ladies, each on the arm of a gentleman. These must be all Halsey’s sisters and their husbands, Inès presumed.
Then the crowd disappeared from view. Her gaze centered only on him. He was dressed in a formal black morning frockcoat and trousers, with a royal-purple satin waistcoat trimmed in silver embroidery. His white stock was in an elaborate tie around his strong throat.
He smiled and the world shimmered around her in sunny possibilities. She went to him, in her hand the posey of pine and holly tied in white velvet ribbon that he had sent via his footman this morning. He took it from her and passed it to his friend, Giselle’s husband, the dashing Marquess of Carlisle. Then he enclosed her hands in his large, warm ones and she felt her cheeks flush, her heart pound, and her hope blossom.
He leaned so close, she laughed because she thought he meant to kiss her. But he whispered, “You are early. Eager, are you, my darling?”
She played coquette for a moment and made him laugh. “I shock you with my impatience.”
“Thank God,” he murmured.
The vicar who stood before them asked if they were ready to take their vows.
She nodded. “Quickly, please.”
The few closest chuckled. Evan did the same.
The words they each repeated seemed to flow over her like water. All she could think of was kissing her husband’s lips.
Breakfast was a happy event, but she weathered it as if it were a tempest of social obligations. One bright spot was Gus’s cook’s scones. Inès had two. The servant had outdone herself.
Evan stood tall, serene, her pillar of strength and righteousness as they both received each guest. All had a kind word or a recommendation for a long life together.
Kane, with Gus on his arm, told Evan “to always listen for the subtle sounds of agreement.”
“They are not always proclamations of delight?” Evan asked.
“There is a gradation. I hope your hearing is excellent.”
Gus pressed her arm to her husband’s. “His has improved over the years.”
Carlisle and Giselle came to express their congratulations. “A little mystery is a good thing,” he offered.
“Which means”—Giselle fluttered her lashes—“he cannot tell you all he does.”
