Page 19 of The Earl and His Lady

She reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking away to another corner of the room. “I have told the boys what is happening. Sparing them the details of their uncle’s plans, of course.”

“Of course.” He cleared his throat, trying to relax his posture. “What was their reaction? Did they understand?”

“I think so. Phillip is less certain than Edward. But I told them you mean to help me, as their father wished, to care for them.” Her lips curved upward in a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “They are predisposed to like you, thanks to the glue.”

“Ah, yes. How is the wooden patient faring?” Talk of the children felt more natural, somehow, than talk of marriage.

“Very well. They took the bandage off this morning and it appears the leg will stay in place, barring another fall.” There, at last, her smile was genuine and her eyes lit up. “They will be the best of friends until the next disagreement.”

He chuckled. “My lady, they are very fine boys. I look forward to coming to know them better.”

“Thank you.” She paused and he watched her expression go from relaxed to uncertain. “My lord, why are you doing this for us?”

Lucas met her gaze and considered his reasons, trying to determine how best to explain them to her. She must be having second thoughts. Any sane woman would be. He decided the simplest answer would be best.

“Because, Lady Macon, it is the right thing to do, and I am in the position to do it.” He spoke with firmness of mind, determined in his course.

She regarded him silently, her eyes searching his, and he wondered if she saw the doubts he’d chased away by moving forward. Whatever she saw, it must’ve reaffirmed her decision.

“I think you ought to call me Virginia.”

A warm burst of confidence spread through him and he raised his hand to take hers, as though they were sealing a pact. “Then I am Lucas.”

Chapter Eight

Virginia did not answer her brother-in-law’s letter. The earl—Lucas—had obtained a suitable contract for her to sign the day after he returned from London. He arranged everything with the vicar and they agreed to marry in the church three days later, with only Thomas and Christine for witnesses. Even though it was not necessary to hold the ceremony in the church, Virginia had requested it. The marriage wouldn’t feel real to her if it took place anywhere else.

“I cannot believe you are marrying tomorrow,” Christine said from her perch on Virginia’s bed. “Everything is happening so fast.”

“I know.” Virginia was in a dressing gown, arranging her dresses in a trunk. “Of a necessity.”

Christine huffed and tugged at her braided hair beneath her tall black hat. She had only just come in from a morning ride with Thomas and had stopped to see if Virginia was awake.

“What will you wear to be married? It cannot be mourning clothes.”

Virginia paused, pursing her lips. “I had not really thought of it. I only brought mourning clothes with me.” She straightened and looked inside her trunk again, noting all the layers of black crepe and gray muslin. “Oh dear.”

Christine slid from the bed and looked inside the trunk as well. “It is rather dismal, for a wedding trousseau.”

Virginia met her cousin’s wide eyes, then burst out laughing. Christine, at first startled, soon joined her as well. All the worry over Mr. Macon, the concern for her sons, and the anxiety over her marriage had taken its toll on her. She had barely slept and had few reserves to call upon.

It was laugh or cry, and Virginia was quite finished with the former.

Her cousin recovered first and knelt next to the open trunk. “What are you going to do, Virginia?”

“I’m not certain. We are somewhat near in size. Could I borrow something of yours?”

“A borrowed wedding gown.” Christine shook her head, her expression rueful. “Absolutely shocking. Not a single member of the ton would condone such a thing.”

“I hardly care for them.” Virginia sighed and knelt as well. “And you will not think ill of me for it.”

“Of course not. How would I, if it’s my gown? I have excellent taste.” Christine sniffed and pushed herself back to her feet. “I will be back in a moment.” She went to the door and disappeared, closing it behind her.

Virginia reached into the trunk and moved a few items around, until she found the bright bit of green she searched for. It was the shawl another cousin, Christine’s sister Julia, had made for her. The delicate work had been finished just before Julia’s own wedding and gifted with an apology that Virginia could not wear it in mourning. She had treasured it anyway, seeing the beautiful piece as something to help her look forward to things to come.

She could wear the shawl to her wedding. It was certainly beautiful enough.

The door opened and Christine came in, gowns over one arm in a manner Virginia doubted the maid would be pleased with.