Page 63 of An Enchanting Dare

“I don’t think anyone’s worth that much,” Sylvester said frankly.

The earl regarded him for a long moment and then chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, there we might have to beg to differ, for anyone who can make my daughter happy so that I might have the pleasure of hearing her laugh again is damn near priceless to me.”

Sylvester stared at him and then frowned. “Lady Aisling asked you to give me a job,” he guessed, his pride rearing up. “My lord, much as I appreciate the offer, I cannot accept.”

“Why not?” Trevick demanded, his blue eyes narrowing.

Well, there was nothing for it but to tell the man the truth, to put all his cards on the table. “Because I’m in love with your daughter, my lord, and I would do anything to be in a position to offer for her, but as I cannot do so, I do not think it wise to spend so much time in her company, and—”

“What the devil do you think I’m offering you this job for, if not to give you the means to marry her?” Trevick asked, shaking his head. “And Aisling knows nothing about it, I’ll have you know. You may blame my countess, though.”

A ringing noise sounded in Sylvester’s ears, and he had the oddest sensation of floating, not quite certain if he was awake or dreaming.

“Marry…. For Aisling…. You’re… for me?” Sylvester stammered, aware that hadn’t made the least bit of sense, but the earl seemed to get the gist of it.

“Yes, lad. My wife had got it into her head that you’re the only fellow who can make Aisling happy, and I was told in no uncertain terms I had better make it happen. I hope you’ve not been getting any daft notions we would marry the poor girl off to some doddering old duke, for heaven’s sake? I’ve been at the receiving end of such machinations myself, and I’m damned if my daughter will suffer the same way. So, then. Was Kitty right? Of course, the ultimate answer will rest with Aisling, but assuming this is what she wants, can you make my daughter happy?”

Sylvester nodded dumbly before realising that probably wasn’t giving the man the best impression. He stood a little taller and squared his shoulders. “Yes, my lord. I believe I can. At least, I shall try my damndest. I swear I shall.”

Trevick nodded. “Excellent. We’ll expect a wedding early next year, then. That will give you time to put things in place at Marcross and learn the ropes at Trevick. Oh, there’s a very nice manor house that goes with the position, of course. Not a vast property, and needs a bit of work, but just the thing for newlyweds. Puts me in mind of my first place with Kitty,” he added with a wistful smile. “Though that was in Ireland, of course. Lovely place. You might like to honeymoon there. Aisling loves it.”

In something of a daze, Sylvester allowed the earl to guide him back to the house, aware he had a stupid smile on his face and quite unable to do a thing about it.

15th February 1842, Trevick Castle, Warwickshire.

“You may kiss the bride.”

The rather pompous vicar’s voice rang out across the church, but Sylvester was still gazing at her, unmoving, he looked dazed. He’d looked like that a lot over the past few months, though she didn’t blame him. They were both too deliriously happy to believe their luck.

“Sylvester!” she hissed, widening her eyes.

“Oh!” Snapping out of his abstraction, her new husband hauled her into his arms and kissed her with a thoroughness she did not think the vicar was expecting. When he finally released her, Aisling avoided the man’s gaze, certain she would snigger at the first glance of his disapproving face.

Sylvester grinned at her, a smug, boyish grin of delight that made her heart turn over.

“Well, wife, you’ve done it now. I can bother you to my heart’s content.”

Aisling sniffed as she took his arm and stuck her nose in the air. “Just see that you do,” she said airily, as he escorted her back down the aisle.

Once outside, their friends and family bombarded them with rice, until Aisling felt certain she’d be picking it out of her hair for days.

“How much longer until I can be alone with you?” Sylvester whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck and making her shiver.

Aisling blushed and attempted to look cross. “We’ve got the wedding breakfast to go yet,” she said sternly, though she was likely the most impatient of the two of them. Try as she might over these interminable months, she could not overwhelm her husband’s innate sense of decency. Though she now had a very thorough knowledge of kissing and a few other wicked pleasures, he had drawn the line at making love to her. She had protested that she was not a virgin, so such constraints ought to be forgotten, but Sylvester had become quite cross. In his view, she deserved all the respect and patience due to her. She had been rushed into things the first time around. This time he wanted her to have time to be wooed as she ought to have been, to be entirely certain of and confident in her decision, and nothing she could say would shake him.

She had to admit to being glad of it now. The anticipation, as tormenting as it had been, made this day something special, to remember for reasons beyond their vows, as important as they were. This feeling was reinforced as she saw the look in his eyes and had to turn away before she flushed scarlet. He had certainly waited long enough.

The wedding breakfast was small and intimate, at Aisling’s request. Their families were here, as were all the Cadogans, including the Earl of St Clair and his wife, Harriet, one of her mother’s closest friends. Aisling smiled as she noted Sylvester’s brother, the baron, fussing over his heavily pregnant wife and arranging cushions for her back. Greer smiled up at him beatifically, glowing with happiness. Aisling’s breath hitched, an unexpected prickle of tears in her eyes. She had thought she would never have that for herself, not after everything that had happened. The dream of a husband who loved her, a family, was something she had mourned, never expecting to be granted such blessings after all that she’d done. Except that Sylvester had made her see that she’d been innocent, a child manipulated by an older man with evil intentions. She had reacted out of fear and hurt, not with malice aforethought, and whether or not her words had caused a man’s death, she must forgive herself for it.

“Aisling? Darling, what is it?”

She turned, her husband’s handsome face blurring behind a sheen of tears, but she could still see the worry in his eyes.

“You’re not having second thoughts?” he asked with a soft laugh, though she heard the anxiety lingering behind his words.

“Idiotic creature,” she said, and then burst into tears, throwing her arms about his neck. “I’m j-just so h-happy,” she sobbed.

Sylvester gave a choked laugh and held her close for a moment before picking her up.