Chapter Seventeen
Pippa smoothed her hands over the delicate fabric of the gown’s gossamer skirt.
“Oh, Miss Stanhope, you look lovely!” the maid exclaimed.
Pippa bit her lip and glanced at the looking glass hanging on the wall above the washstand.
“It is a lovely, soft shade of blue. It reminds me of lying on my back in the grass, looking up at the early morning sky through wisps of clouds.” She hesitated and folded her hands at her waist. “I doesn’t feel right to be borrowing Lady Phoebe’s best gown. Is there another I may borrow?”
The maid shook her head. “Oh, but her ladyship insisted that this gown is perfect, as it accentuates your coloring.”
When Pippa bit her lip and was about to refuse, the maid added, “Her ladyship wanted me to remind you that you promised…in case you refused to wear it.”
Turning from side to side, Pippa admired the cut and color of the gown. Resolved to honor her word, she lifted her chin. “Once a Stanhope gives their word, they do not break it.”
“I have heard her ladyship say something quite similar about her family, the Lippincotts. Now then, have a seat, Miss Stanhope. A few strands of your hair have come undone. It won’t take but a moment to add a few more hairpins.”
The knock on the door startled Pippa, proof that she had let her guard down.
Although she knew that the security around the baron’s home would be difficult, if not impossible, to break through, the worry for Millie and little Roarke remained.
Frustrated with herself for not paying attention, her voice was sharper than intended when she answered, “Come in.”
The door opened slowly. The worried expression on Millie’s face cut Pippa to the core. “Forgive me for disturbing you. I thought you might want company while you wait for Baron Summerfield to escort you downstairs.”
Pippa rushed over to the door and pulled her friend inside. “Where’s Roarke?”
“Prudence and Caro have him.” Millie paused for a moment and clapped her hands together. “You look absolutely lovely. Lady Phoebe was right—that shade of pale blue highlights the blue-gray of your eyes. Flaherty will be tongue-tied when he sees you.”
“I doubt anything could make Dillon lose his ability to speak.”
Millie smiled. “I’m not so sure about that. Now then, is there anything you want to ask me about tonight?”
Momentarily confused, Pippa asked her friend, “Tonight?”
Millie sighed. “We both listened to the advice from your cook, Pippa, and most of it was spot-on.”
Pippa watched a delicate blush rise from the base of Millie’s throat to her cheeks. “Most of it? Is there something else to the marriage bed that Mrs. Beemish left out?”
Millie giggled. “Quite a bit, but nothing about what…”
Pippa’s belly twisted into a knot. She was nervous enough about the marriage bed, and to have Millie tell her there was more than her family’s cook had confided, right before she was to wed Dillon, wreaked havoc with her nerves. “What?”
Red-faced, Millie managed to continue, “About what goes where.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“And so you should, Pippa! We have been friends since before we were able to talk, and you know how difficult it is for me to discuss such things.”
“So you decided to come here now, right before I am to be escorted downstairs to marry Flaherty, and tell me there is—in your words—quite a bit that was left out of what goes on in the marriage bed.”
“Aye.”
“For Heaven’s sake! Your babe is proof that you and Roarke did not spend the fortnight before he reported for duty sipping tea and eating berry tarts!”
Millie covered her mouth with her hands and murmured, “Who told you?”
Confused, Pippa shook her head. “Told me what?” She started tapping her foot in agitation.
“Take your hand off your mouth and stop speaking in riddles. I have no time for that. I’m to be married in less than quarter of an hour to a man I barely know.
You had a year to become accustomed to the fact that you and Roarke were to marry. ”
Millie’s hands fell to her sides. “Forgive me. You are right.” She reached for Pippa’s hand and tugged her toward the settee. She didn’t let go, even when Pippa sat beside her. “I want you to promise me that you will trust Flaherty to treat you with care tonight.”
What did she mean by that? “He already promised never to hurt me—or you—and to protect us.”
Millie sighed. “That is not what I mean. In the marriage bed, when it is just the two of you, consummation can be painful at first, but if you trust in your husband, he will do his best not to rush you and to see to it that the pain is minimal.”
“Can you be a bit more specific?” Pippa asked.
“I knew I should have spoken to you before now. You always want more details that I would ever ask for.”
“Well, what exactly can Flaherty do to minimize the pain of consummating our marriage?”
The sound of a throat clearing had Millie and Pippa’s heads turning toward the door.
Millie shot to her feet. “Your lordship, we did not hear you knock.”
Summerfield shook his head. “I knocked—twice—but apparently neither of you heard.”
Pippa stood next to her friend. “We did not. Forgive us for not paying attention.”
The baron put his hands behind his back. “Do you need more time to continue your discussion, or are you ready to put Flaherty out of his misery?”
Pippa could not contain her gasp of shock. “Misery?”
Summerfield chuckled. “All men forced to stand and wait for their brides-to-be cannot help but wonder if she has changed her mind. With each minute that passes, the worry increases. So yes, Pippa, he is presently in a state of agitated misery.”
Pippa gave Millie a quick hug and rushed over to the baron’s side. “We’d best not keep him waiting. Do hurry, Millie!”
The baron offered his arm. The solid strength of it was a reassuring anchor in the midst of her uncertainty.
Thoughts of what would happen later—the pain, and the question of what exactly Flaherty would be able to do to ease some of it—added to the throb at the base of her skull.
She hoped she did not embarrass herself when the time came to cleave unto her husband.
Pippa did the only thing she could think of to keep from turning into a trembling, want-witted woman—she prayed. Lord, please don’t let me embarrass myself tonight with Dillon.
“I have three younger sisters,” Summerfield said.
“Would you trade them for three of my brothers?”
The baron chuckled. “That might be to your detriment, as I understand one of the twins—Minerva, I think—has formed an attachment to one of Garahan’s cousins. A McGreevy, I believe.”
“I would love to meet your sisters, your lordship. Millie has been a sister to me all my life.”
“I am quite certain they would enjoy making your acquaintance, too. They are over the moon now that Phoebe’s time is drawing closer. They’re looking forward to doting on their niece or nephew.”
“Babes are so precious, and the closest thing to an angel,” Pippa murmured.
“Anyway, I hope you don’t mind my intruding—however, in view of the fact that I overheard the last bit of your conversation, I can arrange for you to have time to speak to Phoebe before Flaherty whisks you off to the cottage I had built at the same time I commissioned the other two.”
“Other two?”
“Yes,” the baron said, leading her slowly toward the sitting room, where Flaherty and the others were waiting.
“Garahan was the first to marry, and I could see right away that he would need a cottage of his own. As a matter of fact, my cousin, William, and Phoebe’s brother Edward both had cottages constructed for the married men in the duke’s guard as wedding gifts.
I had the finishing touches put on Flaherty’s cottage the day after he brought the three of you here to Summerfield Chase. ”
“You are too kind, your lordship—thinking of Flaherty and the other men’s comfort.”
The baron stopped in front of the closed sitting room door. “I was thinking of their brides as well. Shall I ask Phoebe to have a word with you, while I ask Tremayne and the others to distract Flaherty?”
“Thank you for the offer, but I believe I shall do as Millie suggested.”
“Oh?”
“I shall put my trust in Flaherty.”
Summerfield patted her hand and smiled. “He will treat you well, or I shall know the reason why!” He knocked on the door the sitting room, and it swung open a moment later.
“She’s here, Flaherty, so quit yer bellyaching!” Garahan called out.
Pippa knew that Millie had to check on Roarke before joining them for the ceremony, or else she’d have her friend find out what worries Flaherty had before she arrived.
Letting her gaze sweep the room, she noticed the vicar first—he was standing in front of the window overlooking the garden.
Sunlight glinted off the windowpanes, momentarily blinding her.
She blinked, and when her vision cleared, she saw Dillon standing next to the vicar.
The sunlight glowed around him, emphasizing the width of his black-clad shoulders.
But it was the way a sunbeam seemed to bring out the fire in his auburn hair that had her mesmerized by the handsome man she would wed.
“I’m so sorry to be late, Pippa,” Millie said as she rushed in. “Roarke just would not settle down.” The worry in her friend’s eyes tugged at Pippa’s heart. The sound of her babe crying drew closer by the moment. “I know it is not commonplace, but would you mind if Roarke joins us?”
“Not at all.” Pippa turned, intending to ask Flaherty, but the man was no longer standing beside the vicar—he was striding toward where she and Millie stood with the baron.
“I would be honored to have yer son attend our wedding. After all, ye’ll be living with Pippa and me.
We’re a family, Millie, or did ye forget me promise already? ”
She stepped around Pippa to hug Flaherty. “You are the dearest of men, and remind me of my husband. He would have liked you.”