Chapter Five #2
There was a hush. The younger sisters looked shocked, eyes going to their sister, and Rory felt his own anger rising at the thoughtless cruelty of their father.
Was he really abandoning his daughter like this?
Washing his hands of her in such a cavalier fashion?
Well, of course he was. The man was insufferable, and Rory was tempted to punch him in the nose.
His aunt must have guessed what he was thinking, because she reached out to grasp his arm at the same time giving him a warning glance. “Shall we get started?” she asked politely.
Grace was whispering to her sisters, the three of them huddled together, and whatever she said seemed to calm them. When they broke apart, Grace came to Rory’s side and spoke in a firm voice with only a slight tremor in it. “I am ready.”
When Rory met her eyes, he could see it was true. Grace was indeed ready to take this final step which would allow her to escape her father and set herself free. Surely whatever inconvenience this might cause Rory must be considered minor in comparison to Grace’s desperate situation.
The ceremony began, and it was quite a simple matter after all.
Rory spoke his lines and Grace spoke hers, both in a clear and concise manner.
There were no tears, thank God, although Rory could hear the younger girls sniffling behind him.
They were losing their big sister who was probably the buffer between their father and themselves, so it was understandable that they were upset.
When the wedding was over—no kiss was suggested by the minister—Hocking, the supercilious butler, provided glasses of champagne to toast to the happy couple.
That was ironic, and Rory swallowed his in one gulp.
Ormsby did too, before he smacked his lips, and then turned to his daughter with a hard look in his icy eyes.
“I will not see you again,” he told her. “You are MacKenzie’s problem now. But if I hear of you bringing my name into disrepute at any time in the future, I will have no choice but to punish you.”
Grace said nothing in return, but Rory was glad to note a fiery flash in her eyes. Perhaps he was not the only one who wanted to punch the earl in the nose.
“And how will you achieve that?” Rory asked curiously, raising his eyebrows. “If you punish my wife, I will have to punish you.”
The earl smirked, before turning again to Grace. “Remember what I told you?” Ormsby said, with one of his hard looks.
“I remember,” Grace whispered.
Ormsby gave a satisfied nod. “Very well. Come, girls!” And he turned his back and walked out of the room.
Grace hugged her sisters. They probably would have lingered if their father had not called out for them to hurry.
When the family had left, Grace went to the window to watch them climb into their coach, her hands white knuckled as she clung to the sill.
Rory had to wonder if Grace would ever see them again, and she must know it was possible that she would not. He hoped that would not be the case.
“Now, my dear,” the countess quickly took charge.
“Let me show you to your bedchamber so that you can settle in. My home is yours for as long as you wish. No, please, no protests. I am perfectly happy with the arrangement. It will be congenial to have another woman here. My nephew cares little for the things that interest me.”
Rory gave a chuckle and Grace appeared to swallow her objections. She glanced at Rory as if waiting for him to say something, but he shrugged and then bowed. “Whatever my aunt says is the law in this house.”
Grace took a moment to take that in, and then, without another word, followed Jennie from the room.
Rory poured himself a whisky so that he could drink a toast to himself and his new status as married man. Aunt Jennie had planned a wedding supper, and she had asked Ormsby and the sisters, but the earl had bluntly turned down her offer for all three of them.
What a monster the man was! Selfish and cruel. Grace was well rid of him. Rory told himself that whatever his father might say, he had done a good deed today.
When his aunt returned, she sank down into a chair and looked up at him.
“Unbelievable,” she said angrily. “What a creature that man is. I told Grace so, too. She is a sweet girl and well rid of him, although she will miss her sisters, and I can tell she is worried about them.” She shook her head.
“What a business, Rory. I understand better now why you could not leave her in such a dire situation.”
Rory was pleased by her admission—at least she was on his side.
He poured himself another glass before he spoke.
“I have given Grace’s future some thought.
As soon as I know more of her plans, I will help her find somewhere decent to live.
Her dowry is wee, so I will need to provide her with an income.
” He smiled. “It is kind of you to offer her your house in the meantime.”
Jennie smiled back. “Not at all. I spoke the truth when I said I will enjoy her company. Not that I don’t enjoy yours, but you do not share my interest in fashion.” Her cheery expression faded and she hesitated before blurting out, “Rory, you are such a generous lad. But I wish . . .”
When she didn’t finish, Rory prompted, “What do you wish, Aunt Jennie?”
Jennie shook her head and then laughed at herself. “I am a romantic, I fear, but I wish this were a proper wedding. A love match between you and Grace. It is early days, I know, but I can’t help but think the two of you would do very well together.”
Rory goggled at her before he burst into laughter. When he could speak again, he declared with complete and utter certainty, “I can promise you, Aunt, that will never happen!”