Page 19 of The Baron’s Halo

“Isabelle.” Sandy, who had dropped her hands, now gathered them together again. “We don’t need to rush quite so much, do we, my dear?”

“Is there a particular reason you wish to marry so swiftly, Miss Devereaux?” Mr. Quartermain looked askance at his cousin. “Sandy? Don’t tell me something has already occurred—”

“No, Yule.” Sandy put a hand up to stop his cousin’s embarrassing question before he could get it out. “There is no reason of that nature to speed the wedding, I assure you.” He glanced at Isabelle. “Although there is a very good reason for haste.” He stared at Isabelle and raised an eyebrow, asking permission.

Well, his cousin would now be part of her family, so he might as well know. She nodded.

“Miss Devereaux is concerned about her stepfather’s temper, Yule. In the past, it has gotten the better of him and he was…exceedingly unkind to her and her mother. Isabelle would like to be married and out of the house as soon as possible.” He lifted her hands and kissed them. “I am sorry I didn’t think of that earlier, my dear. I can apply for a special license tomorrow. If I cannot procure it, my grandfather will be able to. He is very persuasive.”

His cousin nodded. “You should enlist Grandfather’s help immediately. He will wish to know about the wedding at any rate and facilitate it if he can. Today is the twenty-second of September. Let us name October first as the wedding day. That gives some little time to pull together a hasty wedding.”

“Like Alex’s.” Sandy didn’t sound happy about that. “I was hoping we could avoid that particular similarity, but perhaps quick weddings will be the Quartermain trademark.”

“I don’t mind, Sandy,” Isabelle whispered to him.

“You should have the largest, most elaborate wedding imaginable, my love. But I know the reason for your need for haste. We will have to compensate by having a prolonged honeymoon.”

Isabelle swallowed hard but managed a smile. She’d have a week to prepare herself, to arrange a small wedding and then tell her mother and Ambrose at the very last minute. There were so many arrangements to see to, not the least of which would be persuading Grace and her mother to allow her to be married from their home. It was a lot to ask, but it must be done. She wanted Ambrose to know nothing of her escape until it was a fait accompli. Then there would be no way for him to stop her marriage, no way to prevent her final escape from him as she fled into the arms of the man she loved.

Chapter Eight

London

October 1

Standing at the temporary altar, Sandy gazed around the ballroom in his grandfather’s townhouse, the polished floors shining for the first time since Sandy had been a boy. Once their children all married, his grandparents had refused to entertain in Town, preferring instead to host a house party each year at their primary country estate for the family. Last week, however, Sandy had persuaded Grandfather that his wedding was important enough to open up the townhouse, providing a place for Sandy and Isabelle to be wed.

Even after that hurdle had been overcome, they almost hadn’t managed to pull it off.

Isabelle had been insistent that her mother and stepfather not be informed about the wedding until the last moment. She’d persuaded Sandy that her mother had given tacit permission for the marriage by allowing her to meet with Sandy at Mrs. Hatch’s because they hoped he would propose soon. Unfortunately, Isabelle had been outwitted, when Grandfather had insisted the settlements be negotiated for her. He would not budge on the question. As Captain Grey was Isabelle’s legal guardian, he must be informed of the impending marriage so he could act in Isabelle’s best interests.

The ensuing argument between Isabelle, her mother, and Captain Grey had shown Sandy in no uncertain terms how stubborn his bride-to-be could be. Her mother pled for a six-month engagement—she got five days. Mrs. Grey insisted they be married at St. Georges. Isabelle instead asked Mrs. Horton if they could be married from her house. Grace had been such a true friend, offering Isabelle shelter the entire week of her engagement, she insisted Grace be her bridesmaid. They had had fun the entire time preparing for the wedding.

Her mother, however, kept insisting on a church wedding for her only daughter. Isabelle had dug in her heels until finally a compromise had been reached when Sandy had offered his grandfather’s townhouse. The residence of a duke seemed to placate Mrs. Grey and the plans hurried on apace after that.

Now the few guests attending—Captain and Mrs. Grey, Mrs. Horton, all of Sandy’s cousins and their wives, his mother, and his grandparents—were seated at one end of the ballroom in rows of chairs before an altar that mimicked a church’s nave. At the opposite end, tables groaned under laden platters of food awaiting the wedding breakfast.

Sandy glanced at Yule, acting as his best man, shooting him a nervous grin. He’d be so thankful once this ordeal was all over. After all the controversy over the wedding, Sandy was impatient to have it finished. Impatient to have Isabelle safe and secure as his wife. Even more impatient to be able to take his wife to bed on their wedding night and show her how much he truly loved her. Base thought though it might be, Sandy doubted no groom ever thought otherwise.

He turned expectantly at movement from the doorway and caught his breath. Grace had already entered the ballroom, with Isabelle directly behind. The sight of her made him weak.

Dressed in a gold and white gown he’d seen her wear several times before—there had been no time to bespeak a wedding gown—Isabelle nevertheless looked stunning as she walked sedately down the makeshift aisle toward him. The candlelight caught the strands of gold in the multiple layers of the gown, dazzling Sandy as though the light itself was coming toward him. Her thin veil barely hid her face, but he could imagine the broad smile on her lips beneath it.

She had managed to get exactly what she wanted for her wedding—including no escort down the aisle. Others might think it strange, but Sandy and Mrs. Grey understood all too well. At least, after the next half-hour or so, Isabelle need never worry about experiencing violence at the hand of her monster of a stepfather ever again.

Grace had reached him and stood off to the side. Then Isabelle stood at his side, and Grace lifted her veil. The exquisite beauty of his bride’s face—the dark brows swooping up above inky lashes and deep sapphire eyes in a smooth pale face with deep pink cupid’s bow lips—sent a unexpected shiver of lust all throughout Sandy until he had to swallow hard to control himself.

Of course, he’d imagined what it would be like to have Isabelle beneath him in his bed. Hell, he’d begun imagining that almost from the moment he met her. But now, to have her so close to being his, he found his riotous flesh didn’t want to wait another minute. If this urgent desire to feel her body underneath his didn’t subside, they might actually have to cut the breakfast short and retire to one of his grandfather’s guest chambers. Scandalous, but he didn’t care at this point.

He drew a long breath to settle himself and took Isabelle’s hand. The touch of her slender fingers, even through gloves, sent an erotic shock through his body. Only a few more minutes. He could last a few more minutes if he concentrated.

The Reverend Mr. Buckelew opened his Book of Common Prayer and began to read the familiar marriage service. “Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together here in the sight of God…”

Gazing deeply into Isabelle’s eyes, Sandy’s happiness soared as if on wings. They were going to have the perfect life together, despite the obstacles that had tried to prevent it. Their marriage would be like that of his own parents—two people who adored one another, who would cherish and support each other, not only because of the unbreakable bonds of matrimony, but by the even stronger bonds of love.

Mr. Buckelew gave him his charge of intent and he answered quickly and loudly, “I will.” A chuckle rose from the section where his cousins were sitting, but he paid them no mind. They were almost there. He listened eagerly as the reverend asked Isabelle the same charge, “Will thou have this man to be thy wedded husband?”

For a long moment Isabelle hesitated, her eyes searching his, as though seeking an answer to an unspoken question. She then turned her head to gaze into the congregation, at her mother, perhaps? Or was it Captain Grey? When she turned back to him, a tiny tear welled in her eyes, spilled over, and trickled down her cheek. “I…I…”