Page 74 of The Thorn and the Rose

“Your father was displeased, then?” Thorn asked with a smirk, reaching for his cravat as Cummings fidgeted. They always rowed over who tied it best but today Thorn had been adamant he do it himself.

“Displeased? Ah, there’s a word,” Leo said, shaking his head. “No, Thorn, he was not merely displeased. That really doesn’t cover it. I’ve never seen him so bloody irate.”

“Well, it did sound like things got a tad out of hand,” Thorn remarked, frowning over his cravat.

“Yes, it did, but that was not entirely our fault. It was a private party after all, but then Muir turned up with half a dozen sailors and their… er… lady friends, that he’d met at some dodgy pub he likes to frequent. Which was well enough until one lady decided she preferred Ash to her sailor.”

“And the sailor didn’t much like that?”

“No, and neither did his friends,” Leo said with a sigh. “It was one hell of a mill, though,” he added with a reminiscent smile.

“I gathered that from the fact the hotel is suing us for damages,” Thorn replied, shaking his head. “I also saw the scandal sheets, with illustrations of the lot of you surrounded by a broken building and fainting harlots. It was quite an image. Little wonder your father found the end of his tether.”

“Well, there’s no need to sound so bloody smug, just because you’re settling down and pretending you're sensible. I wouldn’t mind but now I’ve got to do it too!” Leo exclaimed in disgust.

“So, how is it going?” Thorn asked, whilst putting the finishing touches to his cravat as Cummings looked on with a critical expression.

“Horrible,” Leo added morosely. “Appalling, and downright depressing.”

Thorn glanced at him via the looking glass he stood before. “That bad? I’d have thought they would have chosen some lovely young women for you to meet. Your parents have always been very sensible. Well, apart from letting Bella marry that lunatic Bainbridge,” he added with a snort.

Leo’s lips quirked. “Bella is as happy as the day is long with her lunatic and her ever-growing brood of offspring, and the ladies were all lovely. They were beautiful and intelligent, and not at all the empty-headed ninnies you often find being thrust at you by marriage-hungry mothers.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Thorn asked, smacking Cumming’s hand away before he could give his cravat a final tweak. “Or are you telling me you really don’t wish to marry?”

“No,” Leo replied, sounding as sulky as a boy. Then he threw up his hands in frustration. “Oh, Lord, I don’t know. I just… whenever I go in and find some other poor girl put before me for my consideration, I just want to run away screaming.”

Thorn chuckled at the image and gave a shrug. “And where would you run to?”

Leo looked at him in surprise, and then his brow furrowed, a look Thorn could not read on his face.

“What?” he asked, studying Leo with interest.

Leo looked up, he looked rather disturbed. “Nothing,” he said tersely. “Shouldn’t you be getting married or something?”

“I have every intention of doing so,” Thorn replied. “Do you have the ring?”

“Of course, I… er…” Leo patted each pocket, looking increasingly anxious until he gave a sigh and retrieved it from his waistcoat. The delicate gold band glinted on top of his little finger. “Told you I had it.”

Thorn shook his head. “Come on, you dolt.”

The entire Barrington clan was present for the wedding, which, rather to Mrs Fortesque’s regret, was a private affair held in the family chapel. Rosemarie had finally put her foot down and said she did not wish her wedding to be a public spectacle. She also told her mother that the wedding was to be in February, on Valentine’s Day, and that she would hear no more about it.

Thorn had regarded his mother-in-law with concern as these decisions were forcefully delivered and had only breathed easily again once she nodded and gave a little sigh. “Well, it’s your wedding, my love. I only wish you to be as happy as I was with your dear papa.”

This capitulation had been rather easier for her to give after Rosemarie had explained that Lady Montagu was to host a lavish ball to celebrate their marriage… in April.

The little family chapel in the grounds of the vast palace was dusted with snow, and the arched doorway decorated with ivy and snowdrops and Christmas roses. Thorn greeted his adopted older sister, Phoebe, who was really his cousin, and shook hands with her husband, Max, and her son, Jacob. At two and twenty, he was turning into a fine young man, and he congratulated Thorn on his coming nuptials and endured some good-natured teasing from his little sisters, Rose, Dorothea, Emily and Isabella, who demanded to know when he would be married.

“Not for a while yet,” he retorted, tweaking Izzy’s nose.

“Oh, pooh,” the child, who was only seven, retorted with disgust. “I want to be your bridesmaid, too.”

Her older sister, Rose, who was nineteen, laughed at that. “You’ll be my bridesmaid one fine day, Miss Isabella, so do not despair. You’ll have the chance to wear another beautiful frock and look like a princess again.”

“When?” Izzy demanded suspiciously.

“Oh, soon enough,” Jacob said airily. “Marlowe looked like the cat that got the cream when he danced with you at Aunt Harriet’s ball, Rose.”