“Mary doesn’t mean any of that,” Cecily said quickly after her sister’s departure.
Lady Jackson smiled. “Of course she doesn’t. Have you seen the way she looks at Patrick? I have. If you don’t want a second elopement on your hands, you should watch that pair carefully.”
“Really?” Cecily replied, slightly taken aback. “I do believe Mary means what she says about Patrick being rather too… lacking in direction. It is not an attractive quality in a husband, surely.”
“He might mend his ways, one of these days.” Lady Jackson chuckled. “It’s surprising what men will do for the women they love. Which brings me back to the question of the wedding night. How much do you know about coupling, Cecily?”
“I know… the method, if that is what you mean,” Cecily answered a little awkwardly, never having expected to have such a conversation with anyone. “As I said, I am six-and-twenty, not sixteen. I do know how babies are made.”
“Method!” Lady Jackson laughed again. “How mechanical you make it sound, my dear. It should not be mechanical. It should certainly not feel mechanical, or there would be far fewer babies, believe me.”
“I know,” Cecily whispered, sensing the blush in her cheeks creeping down her throat as she felt the aftermath of every encounter with Nathaniel echoing in her flesh.
“Nathaniel has kissed you, and you liked it?” Lady Jackson asked bluntly, and Cecily nodded.
The Duke had done far more than merely kiss her, and her response to his touch, or simply his voice, had been beyond mere liking. Yet such intimacy and indecency could not be shared.
“All will be well, then,” Lady Jackson concluded with a smile, going over to the bed to fetch the bouquet. “There is nothing to fear. Aha, footsteps on the stairs.”
Opening the door and looking out into the corridor, she smiled and looked back at Cecily.
“Lilian is dressed and going downstairs with Mrs. Barnes. That woman is a treasure! I also hear carriage wheels, which tells me that your groom has likely set off.”
Picking up her bouquet and standing up straight, Cecily took a deep breath and joined Lady Jackson at the door.
“Just think, when we come back here for the wedding breakfast, you will be a duchess!” Lady Jackson said brightly, evidently intending to cheer and encourage the nervous bride.
“Yes, I will be,” Cecily murmured in agreement, wondering if she would feel like a duchess after the wedding ceremony.
Or only after she had spent a night in the Duke’s bed.
* * *
“If you’d told us you were running away to marry a duke, we would have been pleased as punch, wouldn’t we?” her wine-addled uncle slurred, looking to her grandmother for support.
Cecily supposed that he must have been drinking before he left London or on the way to Greyhaven Park, where a small reception was now being held after the blur of the wedding service in the nearby village.
The champagne and canapés had only been served half an hour ago, as they arrived at the house. Surely, not even her uncle could inebriate himself in that time.
Although their presence in the church, and now here at Greyhaven Park, made Cecily feel faintly ill, this conversation with her relatives was necessary. It was on Lady Jackson’s recommendation that she had agreed to invite them to the wedding. It was intended to be a show of strength from Cecily and a presentation of afait accompliregarding Mary’s new home.
The Duke had considered just sending the Holts a slice of wedding cake after the event, but he apparently did not care enough to argue either way. At the moment, he was at the other end of the room, talking to Lady Jackson, and clearly felt no obligation to greet his only unrelated wedding guests.
“I am of age and may marry as I wish,” Cecily told her uncle shortly, seeing the expected anger flaring in his mean little eyes at her defiance. She reminded herself that she was now aduchess and beyond his control. “You must be relieved to no longer have the burden of my keep.”
Standing beside Lord Holt, old Lady Holt gave a rather fake laugh, as if her granddaughter was only making a little joke. Her smile did not reach her eyes.
“Why, yes,” she chimed in. “We are very proud of you, Cecily. What a thing to hide from us, you naughty girl! You had Mary tucked away here, safe all the time. Well, it’s a relief to know where she is, and everything can be settled now. Your uncle has been scouring the country.”
“I’m sure he has,” Cecily replied, left cold by this display of false affection and jollity. “Mary is indeed safe with me. Well, I am glad you could both make it. Don’t feel obliged to stay long. I know that Grandmother likes to keep regular hours.”
“Dear Cecily, I so wanted to give you your mother’s pearls as a wedding present,” Lady Holt responded, sweet venom dripping from her voice. “But we could not find them. I believe they have been stolen by a common thief.”
Presently wearing the said pearls and glad of it, Cecily was about to nod and turn away. But then, Lord Holt said something that sent ice into her veins and kept her rooted to the spot.
“Well, it will be Mary’s turn at the altar next, and within a fortnight, if Ashworth has his way.”
“Mary will not be marrying Lord Ashworth or any other disgusting old fossil who offers you money!” Cecily shouted at him.
