Chapter Twelve #3
“That’s why you were blushing! I’m, er, glad you and she had the chance to talk.”
Cassie appeared so vastly relieved, Millie almost laughed. But she couldn’t have agreed with Cassie more.
“Millie.” Cassie met her gaze in the mirror. “Do you mind that only Harbury, Sarah, and I will be here to witness the wedding?”
“No,” she replied. “While I’d like all my sisters present, Harbury is supposed to be too ill to receive anyone but select family. It would be odd if everyone was suddenly welcomed in.”
“I know, but still!”
“How would we choose between them? Just Eliza, Nettie and Lenora, without Adrain and Emily? Emily without Mrs. Vane? Mrs. Vane without Jonathan? Asquith without Lady Asquith? And then there’s Neville’s good friend Blackwell.”
“You do have a point.”
“Besides, your large wedding was an anomaly. It’s quite common to marry in front of only a few witnesses.” She made a haughty expression. “Selectivity is de rigueur, don’t you know?”
“Yes, that’s you.” Cassie wrinkled her nose. “Worried first about fashion.”
“I think I have excellent taste.” She ran her hands over her tightly fitted bodice.
Cassie frowned. “Didn’t you just wear this dress the other night?”
“It’s my favorite.” Millie shrugged, suppressing a smile.
She’d sent for the dress just after Neville had left, and she could not wait to see his expression. How well she remembered his face when he’d said I’d noticed your dress and thought it memorable.
What better dress to choose for their wedding?
And if he wanted to undress her piece by piece, this gown certainly had enough layers to keep things interesting….
“Of course, Millie.” She rolled her eyes. “It emphasizes your breasts.”
Millie grinned. “Jealous?”
“Not in the least.” Cassie glanced down at her own chest, and for a moment, lost herself in her own thoughts.
“Cassie?” Millie prompted.
“Do you know why you had to wait to see the solicitor this morning?”
“Presumably for Harbury to go over his will.”
“He wrote in a few additional instructions, yes.” Cassie placed a hand over her stomach. “Because soon, he may have more than just an heir presumptive.”
“Oh, Cassie! Already?”
Cassie chuckled. “Well, Harbury has applied himself studiously to the task.”
Millie hugged her sister. “What a lovely wedding day gift!”
When they parted, tears were shining in Cassie’s eyes. “I’m so very happy, Millie. Happy for you. Happy for me. Happy for Eliza. When we were growing up, I had dreams, but I never truly believed things would end so well for us.”
Millie cocked a brow. “If father had lived, they wouldn’t have.”
“I know.”
“I apologize for complaining so horribly about having to come to London. I’m so glad, now, we did.”
Cassie hugged her close again. “Thank heavens for Lady Asquith and her generosity.”
Thank heavens for Lord Asquith and his choice of friends. “I haven’t made it entirely through the woods,” Millie cautioned. “Not yet. We don’t know how this marriage will be received.”
“This is Neville,” Cassie reminded. “He’s always been above reproach. People will accept the story version we give them.”
A knock sounded on the door. Millie and Cassie exchanged a glance. Was it finally time?
“Lord Neville has returned,” Cassie’s maid explained. “And he has brought Lady Neville with him as well.”
“Lady Nev—” Millie stopped herself. “Oh, his mother.”
Cassie’s sidelong smile was almost too much a roast to bear.
“Send up Aunt Jane, would you, Sally?”
“No!” Millie whispered. They’d met before, but meeting your brother-in-law’s aunt is one thing, and greeting your future mother-in-law quite another.
“I don’t see why you should object,” Cassie reasoned. “I think Jane would like to see her son’s bride before the wedding.”
“Of course I would.” Lady Neville peeked around the door Cassie’s maid had left cracked. “Oh, what a stunning dress, my dear.”
“I sent home for it.” Millie blushed. Would she have done so if she’d known his mother would be here? Probably.
“It’s certainly…”
“Memorable?” Millie suggested.
Lady Neville’s lips quirked. “Just lovely.” She came toward Millie. “May I?”
Millie nodded. Neville’s mother touched her shoulder, smoothed her hand down Millie’s arm, and then fluffed out the skirts.
“Just lovely,” she repeated.
“Do you really like it?” Millie asked, suddenly nervous.
Lady Neville turned her face away and started to blink.
“I can change,” Millie offered. “If you think—”
“Do you love him?” Lady Neville interrupted.
Millie opened her mouth, but she couldn’t bring forth a single word. She stared at the woman who would, in just a few moments, become her mother-in-law.
She’d been without a mother for so long, she almost didn’t recall how that particular look—the eyebrows, raised, chin down, I want the truth look—could cut to the chase and force the revelation of any secrets.
Did she love Neville?
He certainly loomed large in her mind from the first flutter of her heart to the fateful stumble, to his tender kisses, to the passionate embrace, to the meek and hopeful way he’d offered her, not only himself, but everything he valued.
She loved his loyalty. His steadfastness. His thoughtful care.
But love him?
Just the idea made her heart stutter to a stop. In less than an hour, she would be fully, legally in his power. Then, she would become his physically. Was she not permitted to hold on to some privacy, even in her own mind?
“I can promise you I will take good care of him,” she replied carefully. “Then, thinking of how polite Neville had been, she added, “Ma’am.”
Lady Neville’s eyes reddened the same way her son’s did. “I can see that you love him, even if you don’t yet know yourself.”
Millie stared blankly.
Lady Neville sniffed. “You love what’s good in him, and you understand what is…less than easy.”
“Yes.” That much, Millie could admit. “I understand what’s less than easy.”
“That will have to be enough to put me at ease.” Lady Neville sighed deeply. “In my heart, however, I believe that you, my dear, are the answer to my prayers.”
The wistfulness in Lady Neville’s voice—wistfulness weighted with the purity of a mother’s love—left Millie wishing she could set aside her qualms. But so much had changed in so short a time, she couldn’t.
She trusted Neville. She’d pledged to him her own fierce protection. Still, all of this was too new for her to place any faith in something as ephemeral as a feeling. As badly as her mother had been treated, Millie’s mother had professed to “love” her father, too.
Another knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” Cassie called.
Cassie’s maid peeked inside the room. “I’ve just shown the Vicar into the duke’s bedchamber.”
“Well!” Cassie smiled, drew her in and shrugged in an excited fashion. “It’s time. Are you ready?”
Millie looked into the mirror and pinched her cheeks. There. “As ready as I can be, considering. But you two go in first.”
“Are you sure?” Lady Neville asked. “I know your father isn’t present.”
Cassie and Millie exchanged a significant glance.
“And Harbury is supposed to be in no condition to stand up for you. I know it would be most unusual, but I could walk you in myself, if you like? Then, give Harbury your hand to present to Neville for the ceremony proper?”
“How kind of you to offer.” she kissed the lady’s cheek. “But Lady Sarah has agreed to the honor.”
And then, of course, there was the matter of making sure everyone inside had taken their places so she could focus on Neville’s reaction to her dress.
“Aunt Jane.” Cassie slid her arm through that of her husband’s aunt. “You must prepare yourself. Harbury is not truly sick, but you must act as if he is extremely unwell. I’ve powdered Harbury’s face. He actually does look quite gray.”
Lady Neville laughed. “Oh, I well know how he can put on an act. Especially if that act gets him out of trouble.”
“Or in this case, gets me out of trouble,” Millie said.
“Can’t truly be trouble if things turn out right in the end.” Lady Neville glanced over her shoulder and winked.
Millie grinned. She quite liked her bridegroom’s mother, far more than she thought she would.
Fortunately, she liked her son even more.
*
Though Neville and Harbury had long shared a cordial relationship, one some might even call close, Neville had never been inside the ducal bedchamber, either here or at Harbury Hall.
The suite of rooms occupied the entire floor just above the public rooms below.
The walls were gold gilded, the bed massive and old…
both remnants from their grandfather’s day, Neville was sure.
But the huge bed did make Harbury look small, and, if Neville didn’t know very well that he was hearty and hale beneath the piled-on coverings, he would have believed Harbury quite ill indeed.
The tiny spaniel prostrate at his master’s side and staring up at him with pensive look of pure devotion only added to the effect.
The Vicar had laid a makeshift altar across the table and had placed the parish register to one side. He was now standing, solemn and expressionless, his gaze fixed on the door. Harbury opened one eye, caught Neville’s gaze and stuck out his tongue.
Neville turned away, suppressing a smile.
He wondered if, right now, Gerard was arranging his things in a chamber on the upper floor that he’d share with Millie.
He hoped the bed was as comfortable as the floors were thick.
Their lives might have turned on a sixpence this week, but he’d been lusting after Millie for what felt like a lifetime.
At the very least, he was not going to have to sit through a wedding breakfast. Nor would Harbury be able to give him the kind of hearty backslap Neville, Asquith, and Adrian had delivered to him on Harbury’s wedding day.
The door opened, and Neville held his breath. But only Cassie and his mother entered. Harbury let out a long, low moan and they both rushed to his side.
Cassie put her hand on Harbury’s brow. “Any change, my love?”
“Not yet,” he said in a rough whisper. “I just—I’m just trying to hold on—”
Good God.