Chapter 12
While most men might not spend a great deal of time envisioning their wedding, Calchas had. Really, he was fairly certain that every Briarwood man had in some way. For in his family, marriage was not some great noose that men had to do every possible thing to avoid.
While they might banter about it, the Briarwood men understood that marriage was often the making of them. It was the doorway to true happiness, belonging, and purpose.
He was no different.
And the truth was the small wedding that had occurred this very morning was more perfect than anything Calchas could have ever imagined.
They had not invited anyone but family to the small but beautiful church that had been the site of many Briarwood weddings. They’d also obtained a special license, having no desire to wait the mandatory period that banns necessitated. Why wait? could easily be another Briarwood maxim.
Despite the fact that it was only family, the church had been packed to the brim with loud children who hated sitting still, who laughed and shouted and cheered and took quite spontaneous naps.
And, of course, all of his cousins, his aunts and uncles, his grandmother, and his grand aunt, Estella, were in attendance in their glorious attire of bright hues.
The vicar was a formidable fellow who did not mind the boisterous nature of it all.
As a matter of fact, he adored it. He loved speaking about theology with Calchas’s grandmother and anyone else who would do so with him.
And given how much Calchas’s family loved history and drama and pageantry, well, they adored speaking about theology with the vicar.
And after the I dos had been said, the kiss had been done, and they had rushed out into the morning light, then back to Heron House for the wedding breakfast, things had been going just as they should.
It was hard to wait. The hours were full of fun, but he couldn’t wait to get his wife alone and claim her as his own. It had not been hell, these last weeks, proving the gentleman, but it had not been easy.
And he could have sworn his desire had turned him into a tightly coiled spring, and it was going to be all he could do not to pounce on her once they were alone. His intent was to go quite slow and make it an experience that neither of them would forget.
No, he wanted her to pine with need for him and the pleasure he could give her.
He cleared his throat and forced his thoughts back to the room. Dousing himself in the punch bowl was an option but would draw far too much attention. So, instead, he focused on Laertes, who sat at the piano playing Mozart and Bach.
The bright music filled the house and was full of Laertes’s spirit. Anything he played was imbued with his soul.
Whoever married Laertes was going to have a soulful fellow, who could quip away and fill the house with beauty through the notes of great masters.
Calchas sometimes wished that Laertes could have studied professionally and gone on to become a great musician himself. But Laertes seemed content and Calchas was glad. He was so glad that most of his family was content, and he was too. Absolutely. There was no questioning it.
He felt more than content on his wedding day.
His brother, who had been completely up to his neck in babies and the needs of his wonderful wife, strode up behind him and clapped him on the back, declaring grandly, “You did it. Welcome to the club. We are thrilled to have you at last.”
He grinned at his brother, delighted by the ribbing. “Are you, by God?”
“Indeed.” Nestor looked positively thrilled. “I’ve been waiting for years for this moment to happen. I got the job done so early that I’ve had to wait for each of my cousins to finally submit to the happiest state on earth for far too long.”
Calchas cocked his head to the side. “Truly. You’ve been counting the days?”
Nestor nodded.
“And it’s the happiest state on earth? You’re certain?”
“Oh, truly,” Nestor affirmed easily. “And I know you believe it too, because I see the way you look at her.”
Calchas laughed, trying to savor these moments of joy. “It is true. I love her.”
“And she loves you,” he replied.
“I don’t know about that,” Calchas admitted.
His brother grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing silver tray and handed one to him.
Nestor studied the bubbles for a long moment, then said with utter conviction, “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I don’t think you need to be afraid. She watches you go about the room as if you were the sun and she was the moon.”
“That is overly simplistic and romantic,” Calchas drawled, clutching the stem of his glass.
“I am not as good with words as half of our family,” Nestor said with a shrug before adding with chagrin, “I am also tired. Having multiple children makes you extremely tired, even when you are the eldest son of a duke with a host of nannies and help.”
“Must you point out that you are the oldest son of the duke all the time?” Calchas teased.
“Of course I have to,” Nestor said. “You have so many other wonderful skills that I never inherited, so I must claim something.”
Calchas grinned and hugged his brother, careful not to let the champagne fall from his glass. They had always been close, and he’d never wanted the dukedom. It was a sort of pressure he wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Holding his brother another moment, he said, “I am indeed very happy to join the married club. And I cannot wait to join the club of fatherhood too.”
Nestor’s brows shot up. “Oh, is she—”
“No,” Calchas cut in, “she is not. If you must know, we’ve been extremely innocent.”
Nestor waggled his brows. “Indeed? How interesting. Not the way of most Briarwoods, but I myself was so young when I wed that—”
“Yes, yes, we all know about your youthful endeavors with your darling bride,” Calchas said merrily. Then he frowned. “Is she as exhausted as you?”
“More,” Nestor groaned. “She is a living saint and marvelous, and I adore her and always will. But children do something to you.” And then Nestor’s eyes widened with horror and he blurted, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this on your wedding day.”
Calchas shook his head, enjoying his brother’s unfiltered honesty. “Oh, no. Please do. The warning is appreciated,” he said, “but she and I both want children very badly.”
Nestor nodded, pleased, but then he hesitated and began, “You’re not… No. Never mind.”
Calchas looked at him carefully. “What?”
Nestor eyed him and drew in a long breath, clearly on the fence about whether to keep his mouth shut or let his thoughts fly. “You’re not trying to have children because… No, never mind. Truly.”
Calchas scowled. “What?”
“Nothing,” Nestor replied, swigging his champagne with undue vigor.
“You can’t say something like that, Nestor,” Calchas drawled, “and then say nothing.”
“It’s your wedding day,” Nestor pointed out. “I don’t want to be an ass.”
“It’s too late,” Calchas said. “Besides, you’ve always been an ass. An ass I like, but still.”
Nestor stared at his drink. “I think having children has stolen my ability to think properly and control what I say.”
“Possibly,” Calchas agreed, wondering what the devil his brother was trying to dance around. “Now out with it before I wring your cravat about your neck, an entertainment that no one is expecting at a wedding breakfast.”
Nestor nodded, then plunged in. “You’re not going to have children because you are bored and seeking a purpose in life, are you? And you think they’ll make you happy when you’re struggling to find happiness?”
The words came out in a fast rush, then hung in the air.
Calchas took them in.
His brother and he stared at each other, each rather taken aback.
At last, Calchas scowled. He had never felt so called out in his entire life.
But apparently Nestor wasn’t done yet because he proceeded to blurt quickly, “And is that why you are getting married? Why you picked her?”
“I didn’t pick her. The Briarwood blessing picked her,” he pointed out with a great deal more irritation than he had intended.
“Right. Of course,” Nestor said. “We can’t control that.” He paused, looked away, and then apparently unable to stop the thoughts in his head, he continued. “But it does seem awfully convenient, old boy.”
“What does?” Calchas demanded, gripping his glass a touch too hard.
Nestor cleared his throat. “Well, you were feeling rather empty before she came into your life, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said honestly.
“And you’ve been floating adrift since the war?”
“Yes,” Calchas said, his irritation growing.
Nestor nodded. “And now suddenly you have a great deal of purpose.”
“Yes,” Calchas affirmed, doing his best not to throttle his brother for continuing to point out quite irritating but true things.
“I’m annoying you,” Nestor ventured, eyeing him.
“Yes,” Calchas bit out.
“Stop saying yes,” Nestor replied.
“Fine,” Calchas drawled, wondering what the devil he was supposed to say to such a barrage on his motives and feelings. Usually, when a Briarwood married, the whole family cheered. Nestor was being a right pain, pointing out all the weaknesses in Calchas’s current endeavors.
Nestor let out a sigh of relief. “Look, it doesn’t really matter. She’s the one for you. You are the one for her. Just be careful. Children are a great deal of work. And you shouldn’t be having them unless you desperately wish to with all of your soul and—”
“I do,” Calchas cut in, realizing just how worried Nestor must be.
So, he placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Instead of snapping, he said, “Thank you for looking out for Hester and myself. I take your points. I was rather hollow when I came back from war. I still am. It’s not possible to be whole again or really yourself, Nestor, after something like that, after all those years.
But Hester understands me. Her husband was also at war, and I don’t think she wants me to be anything but who I am. ”