Chapter 17
Three days later, when Colin received an answer from the archbishop granting the special license and thanking Colin for his generous donation, the whole house buzzed with activity and preparations.
His parents had arrived shortly after the archbishop’s reply, and although his mother kissed his cheek and wished him happiness, his father appeared less than pleased.
Drawing Colin aside, his father delivered a sharp setdown.
“Anne Weatherby? She’s a flighty, empty-headed chit.
What were you thinking? The trouble she caused your sister and Burwood.
Have you gone mad? Although I’m pleased you’re finally taking your responsibilities to the marquessate seriously, I’m having doubts about your judgement in choosing a bride.
Why not Lady Miranda? Easton has been up in arms over her unmarried state.
I’m sure he wishes to see her wed before—well . . . The man doesn’t appear well.”
Neither do you. His father’s pronouncement stirred the fear of failure he’d fought his whole life.
He must prove his worth and produce a son.
That would make his father proud. Colin couldn’t help but think back on how his father had doted over Honoria’s son, little Henry, and had begrudgingly commended Burwood on producing an heir.
Yet, he couldn’t admit he’d attempted to court Lady Miranda only to be thwarted by Grey. To lose a well-respected lady to a bastard would be something his father would never forgive.
Colin’s one blessing had been that apparently no one had bothered to tell his father the circumstances surrounding his offer for Anne. At least he could save face in that regard.
He slipped on his obedient-son mask, careful not to mention that his father had thwarted Honoria and Burwood’s attachment more than Anne had.
“Miss Weatherby expressed genuine regret over what happened with Burwood, and Honoria has forgiven her. Miss Weatherby’s brother has Ashton’s ear and provides an excellent conduit regarding the needs of the gentry and tenants.
Even you have been championing both Ashton’s and Burwood’s efforts for reform—of which I’m inordinately proud. ”
His father’s chest puffed up at that, giving Colin hope that he’d turned the discussion around.
Encouraged, he pressed forward. “Since I’ve already offered for her, it would be ungentlemanly to rescind my offer in order to pursue Lady Miranda. Surely, you don’t wish such a report to end up in The Muckraker.”
His father squirmed a little at the mention of the scandal sheet. Their family had suffered greatly at the culprit’s hands.
His preeminent points would drive his argument to a successful close.
“Miss Weatherby is lively, healthy, and more than able to produce a son or two. The girls adore her, and she returns their affection. Her dowry is substantial, not that we need it, but I’m well aware tenant returns haven’t been what they once were.
What she brings to this marriage—to me—will prove beneficial to all concerned. ”
Mention of money, the girls, Anne’s vitality, but especially an heir did the trick.
Quiet, even contemplative for a moment, his father studied him for signs of weakness.
Colin held his ground, but also his breath.
Finally, with a nod, his father spoke. “Very well. Your reasons are sound. I worried you might have succumbed to your sister’s ridiculous notion about marrying for love. It seems to be spreading like the plague.”
Love? Love had nothing to do with his proposal to Anne—although more than a little lust was involved, not to mention two mischievous girls.
“Miss Weatherby has matured from the girl you remember.” Not necessarily true, but Colin had no previous interactions with her to draw an accurate comparison.
He only hoped Anne would not prove him wrong.
“I only ask that you give Miss Weatherby a chance. She will make an exceptional viscountess, and—one day—an exemplary marchioness. I’m certain of it. ”
If only he could believe it himself.
For the next week, Colin stayed out of the way of the preparations.
The women joined forces and assisted Mrs. Merrick with Anne’s gown as well as dresses for Cassie and Ellie, who would take part in the ceremony.
He’d often peek in the morning room where the ladies chattered amiably, their needles working furiously, before they would shoo him away.
As for Anne herself, he took care not to find himself alone with her for fear he would take things too far.
Interactions between them had been in the presence of others and had remained civil and pleasant.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that each day brought him closer to when she would be his completely.
Anne’s mother and other brother, Arthur, and his family arrived. Even Burwood’s Aunt Kitty traveled to attend the ceremony, complaining about her lumbago and expressing the same concern about Colin’s judgement as his father.
They alerted the local vicar as they waited for Mrs. Merrick to finish Anne’s gown. With the gown complete, everyone gathered for supper the night before the wedding.
By his side, Anne remained quiet, stirring her soup without eating.
He leaned down and whispered, “Anne?”
When her eyes met his, the sparkle of mischief usually present was absent, and a tiny crease formed between them.
He longed to kiss away any worry she might have.
But it was neither the time nor place. There would be plenty of time for kisses after they were wed.
“Is all well? The gown not to your liking?”
“My gown is lovely. But I don’t think your father likes me. He keeps scowling at me.”
Colin glanced over at his father across the table, who indeed scowled in their direction. “Ignore him. It’s probably indigestion. He has a great fondness for gooseberries, but they don’t always agree with him. However, he loves to talk about them.” He lifted an eyebrow in cue.
Anne dispelled his father’s accusations that she was empty-headed. “Lord Stratford, I do hope they have gooseberry pie for dessert, don’t you?”
Like the faerie nymph who had bewitched him, she cast the same spell over his father. The man’s face transformed before Colin’s very eyes.
He placed his spoon down and gave Anne his full attention. “You’re fond of gooseberries, Miss Weatherby?”
“Oh, yes, sir. But I can’t decide which is my favorite. Might you enlighten me about the advantages of each kind?”
His soup forgotten, he launched into a lengthy monologue about each type of the small fruit.
Colin pressed his serviette to his lips to hide his smile.
His father was in heaven.
Unfortunately, he had lulled everyone else at the table into a stupor. His mother delivered Colin a look that said, we will have words later.
Honoria, bless her, apologized that there would be no gooseberry pie for dessert. “Anne, if I had known you were partial to gooseberries, I would have requested Cook to procure some. As it is, I don’t care for them myself.”
“Perhaps it is your only fault, my dear,” their father said. “But I’m pleased the family will acquire one member who appreciates them.” He gave a sharp nod and returned to his meal.
“Well done, Anne,” Colin whispered. “You and my father have found common ground.”
A sly smile spread across her—very kissable—lips. “Not really. I lied about liking them.”
Colin barked a laugh, drawing everyone’s attention. Ignoring them, he smiled at his bride-to-be. “Which means you and I have found common ground. Like my sister, I detest them.”
With renewed hope, Colin enjoyed the rest of the meal, especially the chocolate-covered marzipan, which was both his sister’s and his favorite. And from the way Anne’s eyes closed as the piece of candy melted in her mouth, it was hers as well.
She gave a little moan of delight, and a look of rapture claimed her.
Colin couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He could barely concentrate as his mind drifted to their upcoming wedding night, and he prayed he would see that expression again.
The night before her wedding, Anne lay awake and envisioned every little detail.
As she had told Colin, her gown was lovely, and Mrs. Merrick admitted she had outdone herself.
Honoria finished last-minute details in the ballroom, where the ceremony would be held, with a ball following in the evening.
Alice had cornered her before she went to bed and placed the book in her hands. “This served me well when your brother and I were married.”
Having already stolen peeks at the scandalous book, Anne made a face. “I don’t want to picture Andrew doing any of those things.”
Alice’s blond brows lifted. “Anne, you didn’t.”
“Only a peek. Or two.” She clutched the book to her chest. “But thank you. Mama was in earlier, and she only said everything that would happen was natural, and that I should simply relax and enjoy it.”
Alice laughed. “It’s good advice, and better than what some women receive from their mothers.” She kissed Anne on the forehead. “Andrew and I hope you will be very happy with Lord Manning.”
With that, she left, leaving Anne to ponder her future. Everything had happened so quickly. As much as she enjoyed Colin’s kisses and looked forward to their physical coupling, she wanted more—something deeper that transcended mere physical pleasure. Was it wrong to long for a love match?
Not wishing to dwell on what she didn’t have—because that only brought an uncomfortable ache in her heart—she turned her thoughts back to what she did have. What Colin offered her.
Somewhere between imagining Colin locking her in one of the embraces pictured in the book or him locking her in an attic room of his dark, dangerous castle, sleep crept in.
“Wake up, miss.” Her maid’s cheery voice and the rustle of curtains being drawn back pulled her from slumber.