CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
One Day Until the Wedding
Gabe leaned back in his chair at the center of the long outdoor table and smiled at his friends and neighbors who had gathered for a belated engagement dinner.
Very belated, given that the wedding would be held in the morning.
But he didn’t care about the timing. What mattered was that they were all here to bless his marriage.
Across the table from him, Helena reigned over the gathering like the duchess she would be by this time tomorrow, making all her guests feel welcome and ensuring seamless coordination between the kitchens and the staff for tonight’s festivities.
She was engrossed in conversation with Squire Roberts to her left, although knowing the old squire the way Gabe did, the conversation most likely revolved around horses and hounds, and knowing Helena, she was biting her tongue to keep from telling him what she really thought of fox hunting and guns.
“Excellent supper, Your Grace,” George Brown, the owner of the village inn, complimented him from two chairs down. None of the guests were seated according to precedent tonight but wherever they’d chosen, with protocol be damned.
But then, nothing about tonight belonged to an ordinary dinner party.
Verity and Helena had the idea of taking advantage of the good weather by hosting the dinner outside on the south lawn.
Instead of gathering before dinner in the drawing room, the arriving guests were led to the garden terrace where half a dozen footmen waited with trays of canapés and glasses of Madeira.
Torches and luminaries surrounded the long wooden table on the lawn where a ten-course dinner was now being served—with tents at the ready should the fickle English weather turn.
But the evening remained clear and mild, although chilly enough for the women to cover their shoulders with fur and cashmere wraps.
Over it all hung a blanket of twinkling stars shining like diamonds on black velvet.
“Mr. Brown, you owe your gratitude to my cook,” Gabe acknowledged with a nod toward the plates of food covering the table. The ten courses were decadent culinary perfections, delivered with spotless service by the footmen. “She outdid herself this evening.”
The innkeeper smiled and corrected, “I meant the whole affair.”
Brown waved his hand to indicate the wide lawn and terrace, including the far end of the grass where a stack of wood lay ready to be lit.
Instead of remaining in the dining room this evening after the women went inside to the drawing room, the men would enjoy an old-fashioned—if small—bonfire, complete with cigars and endless glasses of port.
That had been Helena’s concession to Gabe for the evening, one he knew the men would very much enjoy.
Gabe shook his head. “Then you owe your gratitude to Miss Sinful.”
So did Gabe. He glanced down the long table at the close friends and important neighbors who had gathered to wish them well on their wedding, including poor Mr. Putnam.
Helena had graciously forgiven the solicitor for their encounter the morning of her arrival in Chatham, if not forgotten.
They would all see each other again in the morning, first at the church for the ceremony and then in Grangely’s orangery for the breakfast, when they would celebrate Gabe and Helena’s union.
But tonight was all about Gabe and Helena’s appreciation for their support.
The grand dinner was their wedding gift to their friends.
Even little Alice had been allowed to stay up past her bedtime and to sit at the table next to Verity.
She would go upstairs to the nursery and Nanny Pots as soon as dinner was finished and be tucked right into bed so she would be well-rested for the morning’s ceremony, but for now, she was enjoying herself.
Apple and grape juice filled her wine glasses, but she was dressed just as finely as the ladies, right down to Helena’s too-big pearl necklace dangling down her front.
At Gabe’s urging that the little girl needed a necklace to finish her outfit, Helena had taken it from around her own neck to let her borrow it, just as he’d hoped.
Alice was well-behaved and well-mannered—more so than most of the society ladies he’d encountered in London, in fact—and Gabe had never been more proud of her.
And never more relieved about Adam. His younger brother was in attendance but sitting at the far end of the table, carefully sandwiched between Verity and Maggie Parker.
For once, he was behaving himself. No snide comments, no back-handed compliments, no insulting jokes.
Instead, he was mostly quiet, just watching the other guests and holding up his end of a pleasant conversation.
Gabe suspected he knew why Adam was on his best behavior.
At this time tomorrow night, he would be on his way to the port to board a boat for America, taking with him the last of his allowance…
and perhaps a bit more if he caused no trouble until then.
And also because once tonight’s dinner was over, Adam would be on his happy way to the village instead of spending the night here.
When Helena had hinted that perhaps Adam would be more comfortable at the village inn than at Grangely Park during the flurry of last-minute wedding preparations, Gabe agreed and sent an immediate request to the innkeeper for help in securing a private room…
and in securing the kind of entertainments that would keep Adam busy at the inn and out of their hair at Grangely.
If Gabe were lucky, a well-deserved hangover would keep him in bed both well past noon and through the ceremony.
“Thank you for finding a room for my brother at your inn,” Gabe told Mr. Brown. “I’m certain he’ll be more rested there.”
Brown chuckled, then shared beneath his breath, “I wouldn’t call what your brother will be up to as resting, Your Grace. But he does seem to enjoy himself at the inn.”
As long as he enjoys himself elsewhere. “Keep him well-entertained, will you?” Guilt made him add, “And send his bills to my accountant.”
“Aye, Your Grace.”
Gabe’s gaze settled on Helena. Clearly, she’d had enough of conversing with Squire Roberts based on the stiff hold of her shoulders and the way she pulled in a deep breath.
“With all due respect, sir,” Gabe heard her voice rise over the din of conversation, “fox hunting should only be considered a sport if the foxes are themselves armed, given their own pack of dogs, and placed on horseback so they can run to ground a bunch of paunchy, pampered—”
Taking that as his cue, Gabe stood quickly.
“May I have your attention?” He rapped the handle of his knife against his water glass before Helena could cause a cross-county war.
Around the table, the conversations abruptly ended as everyone’s gaze turned to him.
“First, I want to thank all of you for joining Miss Sinfell and me tonight for our engagement dinner, and we look forward to seeing you all again in the morning at our wedding as we begin our new life together. As my father used to say, better late than never.” He grinned as soft laughs rose from around the table, then met Helena’s gaze with an apologetic shrug.
“At least in the end, we still managed to hold the engagement dinner and wedding in the right order.”
Loud laughter broke out at that. In the soft shadows, he saw Helena’s face tighten slightly at his teasing, only for her expression to be softened by well-wishes sent up from across the table.
His friends and tenants loved and accepted her, and he couldn’t have been prouder of the way she’d opened her arms to them in return.
“I would also like for you to know that we both appreciate all your support and goodwill during the past few weeks since Miss Sinfell agreed to become my wife. We look forward to many years of friendship and good relations to come.”
“Hear, hear!” Caleb Parker called out.
“And so,” Gabe continued as he gestured toward Larkin, the butler, who set in motion a half dozen footmen carrying trays of champagne flutes to the table, “I would like you to join me in a toast.” While he waited for the guests to take their flutes, Gabe bit back a smile as Larkin gave Alice a glass of soda water so she could join in with the toasts.
“To Miss Sinfell,” he said as he lifted his champagne flute toward Helena, “the most beautiful and brilliant bride a man could ever ask fate to give him.”
Soft murmurs of appreciation from the men joined breathless awwws and ooohhhs from the ladies.
Helena stood and raised her own glass to him. “And to Thurston.” She winked mischievously at him. “The luckiest man in the world.”
Belly laughs and hoots followed at that, along with the tapping of knives on glass stems and the rapping of knuckles on the table.
She raised her glass again as her eyes locked with his. “In all seriousness,” she said as the noise died down, “you are simply the most wonderful man. You captured my heart the day we met, and how fortunate we have a second chance at love.”
Gabe’s heart skipped. Love… Was that what he felt for her? Could they ever truly have that again in the wake of all the terrible blows life had pounded on them over the past five years?
But this wasn’t the time nor the place to ponder the implications of that, not with the beaming smiles of three dozen guests focused on him. No, he would have the rest of his life for that.
Now, there was something else he had to do.
He cast a contrite glance down the table.
“If I can beg your indulgence for a moment longer before dinner ends and we part ways.” A grin pulled at his lips.
Good Lord, he couldn’t stop smiling this evening!
“That is,” he corrected, “before the ladies go inside for civil entertainments in the drawing room and we men gather for far less proper behavior at the bonfire.”