Chapter 29
“Thank God you decided to wed her here, Talbot. We were fearful we’d have to wait for the younger generation to grow up before we attended another wedding!”
The words had been yelled at him by Cambridge Sinclair, who was seated in the second row beside his wife and family. In fact, the entire Sinclair and Raven families took up nearly half the pews on the left side of the aisle. They’d chosen Tilly’s side this time, as she did not have much family.
“Glad I could help, Cam,” Ambrose called back.
He stood at the end of the aisle with Charles and Alex. They’d put their names in a hat, and he’d drawn out the ones who would stand beside him because Bram had insisted there were now too many men to have them all as groomsmen.
“Don’t look now, but the Crabbett Close women are all wearing lavender scarves and gloves. Mr. Greedy also,” Charles said.
“They made them at the knitting club in The Iris, I believe,” Alex said, rocking back on his heels. “Nice touch that they are all matching, don’t you think? Plus, a small nod to Tilly’s late mother.”
The women were all at the end of the aisle of Ram’s donated carpet.
“I wonder that Miss Alvin can see,” Alex said.
“She is so wrapped up, only her eyes are showing,” Charles said.
“Do you have sweets, Alex?” Ambrose asked.
He sighed and pulled a twist of paper from his pocket. Ambrose and Charles took one each.
He then let his eyes wander over the guests and found his parents parting the purple-scarfed Crabbett Close residents to head for their seats.
When he’d told them what Tilly and he had decided, there had been an explosion from his mother. She’d yelled about the indignity of not marrying in a church and not having the guests she wanted. Cissa had pointed out that it was Tilly and Ambrose’s wedding, and she had no say in what they did.
After several harsher words, she’d told them she refused to go, to which Ambrose had said that it was of course her prerogative.
“Your mother looks happy,” Charles said in his ear.
In fact, Lady Chippington looked like she was sucking a sour lemon drop. Her nose was raised, and the feather in her new burgundy hat was quivering with indignation. The long matching coat she wore fluttered behind her as she stalked down the aisle.
“Lady Chippington, how lovely you look!”
His mother spun on her pale grey leather shoes to glare at whoever had dared to speak to her and encountered the Duke and Duchess of Raven, seated beside the Marquis and Marchioness of Braithwaite.
“That could change the game,” Alex whispered, joining the conversation. “Dukes and a Marquis with their wives, all here for your wedding may just be the trump card.”
Ambrose watched his mother smile and even show her teeth. She then dropped into a curtsy, before taking her seat.
“She’s not easy to please” was all Ambrose added.
“I’ll be ready for a nip of spiced rum after this,” Charles said, moving from foot to foot.
After a lot of debate, he and Tilly had settled on spring for their nuptials. He’d wanted to just get it done so he could move her into his household. She’d said that it had to be spring if it was to be held in Crabbett Close, so spring it was.
They’d learned a great deal about each other in the months since he’d asked her to marry him, like her appetite. It was as large as his, and she was partial to sweet food, whereas he preferred savory.
She was sweet-natured with those she loved—which included him—and did not suffer fools. Her intelligence constantly surprised and delighted him, and her general knowledge far exceeded his, so he’d set about remedying that, with the help of his glasses, which had changed his life.
“Has there been any more news on the fate of the five men involved in that Fraternitas Sanguinis Crucis business below the clubs?” Charles asked. “It has been dragging on far too long now.”
“Gray told me their lawyers were throwing everything at them, but they will not win, as there are too many witnesses standing against them,” Ambrose said.
“They are also disgraced and ruined in the eyes of society now, which, from personal experience, is most unpleasant,” Alex said.
“Howard is the one who will bear the brunt for the murders, as the other four men turned on him and admitted he was the instigator of the deaths of those poor women,” Ambrose said.
All entrances to that evil place had been boarded up. No one could get in or out, and all concerned were happy to keep it that way.
“I still can’t believe Mavis has found love,” Charles said as they watched her walk down the aisle with a man at her side.
Joseph was Mavis’s exact opposite. Shorter than her by half a head. Happy, usually smiling, and his laugh could be heard in all the residences of Crabbett Close. He’d come to do some building work at 11 Crabbett Close, took a single look at Mavis Johns, and had fallen hard.
“That relationship is one of life’s miracles,” Alex said as the couple took their seats, still holding hands.
Ambrose looked to see if he could find Tilly, but so far had not sighted her. He had, however, seen the trestle tables laden with food and the fires lit to keep everyone warm. Lamps and candles were everywhere, and musicians were setting up in the rotunda.
The sound of a fiddle started, and Ambrose felt a smile tug at his lips. Soon, he thought.
“Ram assured me he had convinced Clemmie not to sing,” Alex said.
Clemmie clearly had not listened because his voice suddenly rang out across the gathering, and it was accompanied by his violin. Luckily, the Duchess of Raven joined in, and the guests breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she almost drowned out the music.
“Close your eyes, Rosie,” Charles said.
He did. His pulse raced, and he felt the excitement that had been simmering inside him all day build. She was here.
“Now open them.”
She stood with her father, smiling, and her eyes were on Ambrose. Her mother was there, too, and he thought that was perfect. He’d come to admire and respect her parents, and not just for what they’d done for Tilly. They were good people who he was glad to now have in his life.
“It was exceedingly kind of her to wear the purple scarf, don’t you think?” Alex said.
It was wound around her neck several times and complemented the lilac dress she wore beneath a deep sable-hued jacket. Her hair was pinned in place with matching tiny flowers, and a deep purple ribbon fluttered from the back.
Mine, he thought, digging his toes into his boots to stop himself from walking toward her.
Before her were a handful of small Nightingale children flinging rose petals in delight. The guests smiled and waved at them. Cissa, Violet, and Tavi walked behind Tilly, dressed in matching lilac.
In that moment, Ambrose felt like his chest would burst, it was so filled with love.
“Hello,” she said when she reached him.
“You look beautiful. I particularly like the scarf,” Ambrose said.
“Mrs. Greedy made you one, too, but I could not find the time to get it to you, so be thankful.”
“Oh, I am.”
“Your mother, Joanne, is here with you, Tilly,” Alex said softly, so only they could hear.
He’d talked to Tilly about the woman inside his head, and she’d told him her story. Ambrose had been proud of her for that, as it couldn’t have been easy sharing something that had been a dark secret inside her for so long.
Afterward, she’d seemed more at peace and happy about what Alex had disclosed.
“I’m glad,” Tilly whispered back. “She should be here with us today.”
“Agreed,” Ambrose said.
The minister, who had officiated over all the weddings at Crabbett Close, and according to Bram should be a saint for doing so, cleared his throat.
“Right, proceed please,” Alex said in a tone royalty would be proud of.
They said their vows, and Ambrose learned Tilly’s middle name was Sophia, and she in turn discovered that his mother had given him three middle names. Then it was over, and he turned to face his wife.
Tilly was smiling up at him, so he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her long and deep. Her hand slid up to settle, warm and steady, on his chest.
The crowd cheered.
“Well, Lady Tilly, you are stuck with me now,” he whispered against her lips.
“I love you, Ambrose, and I don’t think I have ever been happier than I am right in this moment.”
He smiled down at her. “I could not agree more. Now come, we need to eat, drink, and dance.”
“Sounds terrible,” she teased.
So, they did. Surrounded by friends and family, they celebrated the best day of their lives. When the speeches were made, his father told Ambrose he could not be prouder of the man he’d become and was delighted to welcome yet another daughter into his family.
Someone had plied his mother with elderberry wine, and she unbent enough to raise her glass to his words.
Then Ambrose cleared his throat, and everyone fell silent again.
“I believed my life was exactly as I wanted it to be. I had my plans, my routines, and a vague expectation that somewhere in the near future, a perfectly suitable bride would slot neatly into all of it.” He paused. “And then my sister befriended Miss Matilda Wilson.”
This drew a ripple of knowing laughter.
“It is no secret that we did not take to each other immediately—”
“I thought you were a pompous fool,” Tilly said cheerfully from beside him.
“And I thought you were an opinionated irritant,” he replied without missing a beat. “We were, as it turns out, both a little right.”
More laughter. He waited for it to settle.
“But then I was folded into the Nightingale family—largely against my will, I might add—and something rather inconvenient happened. I was forced to take a long, honest look at myself.” He glanced down for a moment.
“What I found was not entirely flattering. The life I had been so proud of suddenly felt very small and very empty. I wanted to be better. The Nightingales, to their eternal credit, believed I could be when we found the Pavlov fortune.”
Tilly squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.
“Tilly saw me for exactly who I was and not who I was pretending to be, and she chose me anyway. I will never quite understand why.” His voice softened.
“But I will spend the rest of my life being grateful for it. And I will thank Violet every single day for bringing this magnificent, maddening, wonderful woman into my life.”
This produced a round of cheers.
“I love you,” he said looking down into her damp eyes.
“I love you too, so much,” she said.
After that, the night was a blur of happiness, and when it was over, he was finally able to pick up his bride and take her home—to their home, where they would live happily ever after.
* * *
Thank you for reading THE ARROGANT LORD.