Chapter 12 #2
Nestor looked across the breakfast room and spotted her. “Yes. I like that about her. She’s straightforward, isn’t she? And will she continue to run the tea shop or is she ready to go on to becoming a grand lady again?”
“I think the idea of being a grand lady makes her break out in hives,” Calchas said.
Nestor choked on his champagne. “That bad, eh?”
“Oh yes, that bad.”
“Ah, the groom,” cheered Leith as he wound his way through the merry making and came to stand with them.
“Yes. The man of the hour,” intoned Brodie as he followed his brother.
Calchas groaned and placed his hand over his eyes. He knew, of course, that a wedding day was full of such things, but he was still not quite prepared for it.
Octavian and Maximus, the sons of Lady Hermia and the Earl of Drexel, came too, all but dancing in anticipation of the banter about to ensue.
“The conquering hero!” called Maximus. “She didn’t run for the hills!”
Calchas snorted.
“Come,” enthused Octavian. “We need to throw you on our shoulders and dance you about the room.”
“I don’t think so,” Calchas returned, quite happy to have his feet on the ground.
Leith and Brodie gave a quick exchange of glances. “Don’t worry. We’ll protect you from your married cousins.”
“Oh,” said Nestor. “You’re next. Both of you. This really should have been a massive wedding.”
Leith and Brodie exchanged glances again.
“Look, I understand that you think marriage is in the air for us,” said Brodie.
“But we’re not sure it will ever happen. The ladies we have chosen are extremely devoted to their plans,” replied Leith with some chagrin.
Brodie sighed dramatically. “It’s true. Things are in the way.”
“Things?” Calchas echoed, knowing that a great deal had occurred in Scotland, a trip he’d missed, and then more had unfolded in the following months, but he had been at war.
“Yes,” Leith concurred. “Things.”
“You’re desperately clinging to freedom,” drawled Calchas.
“Don’t be unkind,” Brodie drawled back.
Leith teased, “After we were so nice to you, you would dare to say something like that?”
And Leith gave him great sorrowful eyes before bursting out laughing. “Well, you’ve done it, even if we have not.”
“Indeed, I have,” Calchas intoned.
“Marriage,” Leith sighed, like a lovesick puppy who was denied his mate.
Brodie shook his head. “So many men are falling right, left, and center, gone to marriage. Never to be seen by bachelors again.”
“You’re about to sound like Benedict from Much Ado About Nothing,” Nestor warned. “And it’s really rather tiring. He’s a great character, but we don’t need to hear that particular monologue redone in a modern way.”
Just as Brodie opened his mouth, ready to make argument, the butler called quite loudly, “The Earl and Countess of Renstower.”
The entire room tensed and swung towards the doorway.
Calchas’s gut tightened. He feared no good could come from this.
“How the devil did they hear about the celebration?” he growled out.
“I don’t know,” said Nestor, straightening.
Much to the credit of the room, just because an earl and countess had entered, they did not bow and scrape.
Not because the patriarch was a duke but because half the room already knew how Hester had been treated.
“Do we treat them as friends or foes?” asked Maximus.
“Oh,” Calchas said, glowering at the earl and countess, “foes. Most definitely foes.”
The earl’s silver hair was pomaded back. He was dressed ostentatiously in a rich blue morning coat with an ivory waistcoat embroidered in gold, fawn breeches, and expensive gold-buckled leather shoes. There was a diamond stick pin in his cravat.
Beside him, his wife stood imperious. The countess’s hair was beautifully dressed atop her head and laced with ribbons and diamonds, even though it was morning, as if she had come to do battle. And her gown was a gorgeous rose silk. She was a stunning woman, but she was hard, brittle.
Both of them spotted Calchas’s wife across the room, and he swung his gaze to his darling Hester. She sat at the table festooned with white linen, flowers, and porcelain, surrounded by a bastion of female Briarwoods.
She looked as pale as the linen cloth on the table.
Ellen had stopped dancing with one of the young Briarwood bucks, who had been leading her about, conversing easily.
Her smile had died, the color going out of her cheeks. Both she and Hester looked like veritable ghosts.
“My dear,” called the earl, “congratulations on your marriage. We are so very proud of you.”
“Yes,” Hester’s mother said, though her voice was flat, as if nothing could please her or make her proud. “So very proud indeed.”
Hester grimaced. “Thank you, Papa and Mama.”
“Why is it,” Nestor whispered to him, “that when people find out their children are marrying into our family, they always do the oddest things? They either try to take over, act like they have loved the children the whole time, or they do things like this and come into wedding breakfasts that they haven’t been invited to? ”
Calchas sighed, struggling not to cross the room and grab the two like a pair of curs and toss them out onto the drive. “I don’t know what compels them.”
“Oh, I do,” said Maximus, towering above the company, his years fighting in the Army and at war only adding to his presence.
“As do I,” Leith said.
Brodie nodded. “Power.”
“The Duke of Westleigh,” added Nestor. “Our father. They all want to be close to him.”
And it was another reason Calchas had no wish to be the duke. Because people almost never wanted the man himself; they wanted access to the power he could give.
And as if speaking about him could summon him, the good duke strode into the room, his hair dark and his long coat, his favorite fashion, flowing behind him.
“Ah, my lord. My lady,” the Duke of Westleigh boomed, a glint in his dark eyes.
“Welcome to Heron House. We have heard many things about you.”
And this subtle comment, which could either be a compliment or an insult, caused the earl to tense. And the countess as well.
“We are very glad to hear that we are family now,” the earl declared boldly.
Calchas’s father blinked with faux innocence. “Are we?”
The earl’s eyes narrowed. “Our daughter has just married your son.”
The duke made no comment, but there was a dangerous crackle to him and then he suddenly beamed. “Yes, she has, much to our good fortune.”
The earl’s brows rose ever so slowly. He was clearly stunned that anyone would say such a thing about his daughter. It was clear he’d found her to be intensely disappointing until this day.
“And we are very eager to have her as our daughter,” Calchas’s mother added as she crossed towards her husband. “You both may stay…”
The earl and countess both began to ease, settling into the confident power of their birth.
But his mother was not done and she continued, saying, “If the bride will allow it.”
The countess sucked in a sharp breath of shock, and the earl’s face turned a painful muddled shade. They were both so accustomed to being bowed and scraped to that they did not expect to have to do so themselves.
Now, Briarwoods did not encourage bowing and scraping, but much to Calchas’s pride in his family, they were not about to allow anyone to hurt their newest family member. No matter who they were.
The earl and his wife swung their gazes to their daughter.
Hester was still for a moment, and her entire body had tightened as if she feared what was to happen next. But then she looked to Calchas.
He gave her a nod of encouragement, reminding her that she was no longer facing these people alone.
Hester cleared her throat. “Let me speak plain. Everyone here knows the story. You certainly told enough of the ton about my ingratitude and mad behavior.”
The dowager gave a nod, affirming her new granddaughter.
Aware of the support in the room, Hester drew herself up and continued, though her voice was slightly tremulous.
“The last time we spoke, Mama and Papa, you cast me out, and you cursed me. You told me I would end up in the most despicable of circumstances.” Hester winced, but she no longer seemed to feel shame about what had happened.
“I almost did. But I was fortunate enough to call upon Captain Briarwood. He helped me.” Her face began to soften, lit by the power of his love.
“He fell in love with me. And now I have a family as I never have before. But if you would like to stay, I will not stop you, and we can always see what will happen next.”
The earl and countess gave each other a tight look, but they both smiled.
“Of course, my dear,” the countess said, her voice almost dripping with her determination to stay at Heron House. “We shall endeavor to mend broken fences.”
Ellen snorted.
The earl swung his gaze to her. “Don’t I know you? Weren’t you a servant in our house?”
Phoebe let out a bleat of annoyance. “Is your memory failing you, sir?” Phoebe asked.
The earl scowled. “It does happen when one ages,” he said tightly, clearly swallowing a harsh retort.
“Ah, age,” the dowager duchess said grandly.
“Though I have felt few ill effects, it gives wisdom to us all… Or at least a few of us.” She clapped her hands together.
“Let’s just hope that everyone in this room will be beneficiaries of it.
Now, let us make merry because it is a wedding breakfast after all. ”
Arching a brow, the dowager called, “Laertes, will you help improve the mood?”
Laertes’s lips twitched at his grandmother’s lack of subtlety, and he began to play a merry tune. The entire room erupted into conversation, and the earl and countess were surrounded by Hector, Ajax, and Zephyr, no doubt being tested to see how far they could be pushed.
His family loathed arrogant snobs.
But Calchas had eyes for only one person, his wife, and he was going to make certain, despite the fact that her parents had suddenly arrived, that today was the first day of the best days of their lives.