A Family Affair (26 page)

“And by the way,” she continued, while stroking away the wrinkles in her skirt with her hands, “it won’t be just you and me in the nearest future. Don’t you remember? I told you about my family’s yearly get-together, which we have in the beginning of August.”

He must have looked just as bewildered as he felt, because his lovely bride-to-be frowned at him.

“What?” He smiled.

“You forgot!” she cried out as the truth hit her. “How could you forget about something as important as this?”

His smile vanished as he stood to face her. “I have had many things on my mind lately, as you are well aware.”

“One would think that courting me would mean you remember what I tell you, especially about important things such as family gatherings we are to attend.”

“You are important to me, not your family!”

“My family is important to me, and if I am important to you, they should be too.”

He looked at her teary-eyed face, not really understanding what her problem was. So what if they missed the family gathering? They had it every year. They could attend the next year, or even wait for the year after that.

She was almost a married woman, and as such she should know her husband was now her family, not the heap of relatives she had grown up with. He shook his head at her silliness. She obviously didn’t like his indifferent attitude, and turned her back to him.

Without a word, he left her standing alone in the gazebo, not once considering a continuation of the discussion.

He needed a drink. No, better make it two.

Lord, he longed for tomorrow, when the ceremony was through and they could be on their way to Pendragon. If luck was on his side, they could leave before high tea and reach as far as Swindon before they needed to stop for the night.

He’d had enough of her family over the last couple of months. Solitude, with time to think things through, had become a necessity. His life had reached a crossing, and he nourished a desperate need to figure out which way to go.

Tomorrow he would have a new responsibility in his life, a wife, and he wanted—no, he needed—time to come up with a plan as to how to handle her with the care and respect she deserved.

When he entered the hallway, he called out orders to the sour-faced butler Ivanoff, who stood at the bottom of the stair, before continuing to his room.

He smiled toward Bear as he closed the door behind him. His aristocratic valet arched an elegant eyebrow at his friend’s obvious happiness.

“You look content,” he grinned, as Devlin seated himself on the bed, facing him.

“I know I do, and amazingly enough I really am content. For the first time in my life, I know what I want and need in my life, and it’s Fanny. She is such a wonderful person, and I can’t keep myself from smiling when I think about her. She is a handful; I won’t lie about it, but at the same time, she is not too hard to handle. However, more importantly, I have no doubts about her turning into a perfect duchess, with a little loving molding.”

“Mold her into perfect?” Bear chuckled. “And here I thought she already was perfect.”

Devlin looked at his friend sideways, a bit unsure with him for the first time during their friendship.

What did Bear mean? Did he have a crush on Fanny too, or was he only trying to tease? It was hard to say.

To save himself from illogical tantrums, Devlin decided to ignore the other man’s remark. Instead he leaned back and closed his eyes, continuing with their conversation as if he’d never had doubts.

“I want a wife who will be feared, loved, and respected, and who would never be close to doing anything that could be called a scandal.”

“Then I guess you have found your perfect duchess, as Lady Francesca is born into respect, and she would never do anything wrongful against you, or your marriage.”

Devlin smiled without opening his eyes. “When I think about our immediate future at Pendragon, a wave of contentment washes through my body. Fanny and I didn’t have much time before the announcement of our engagement. Since it became official, we have been guarded closely by her family, and the only thing I can think about now is to have her to myself. I’m so bloody relieved we’re leaving for Pendragon tomorrow that I don’t even feel at all bothered about her wanting to stay on for a while. As my wife she will respect my wish.”

Devlin could feel uneasiness oozing from Bear, and he tried not to be affected by his friend’s feelings. Tomorrow he would have the right to do whatever he wanted with Fanny, and if his wish was for them to leave, she had nothing to say about it, thank God.

How amazing it would be to have someone to come home to after a long day managing the large machine that a holding like Pendragon was. She would always be there, just for him, eagerly awaiting his arrival.

“You do realize she has a will just as strong as yours, and she won’t back down if she thinks you are wrong?”

“Nothing to get excited over.” Devlin snorted. “I am, after all, the man in this marriage, and it’s my right to have it my way. She will have to bend.”

“Oh, indeed?”

Devlin opened his eyes and gave Bear a hard look that his friend just shrugged off before, without another word, he stood and left the room.

Devlin muttered with indignation as he undressed without the assistance of his pretend-valet and, naked as the day he was born, lay down on the satin sheets. He could hear the music playing in the barn as he closed his eyes.

Bear’s anxiety had affected him more than he liked. What if his friend was right? What if life with Fanny as he pictured it wouldn’t be just that—as he pictured it?

He sighed deeply and shoved his newly found doubts aside. It didn’t matter what Bear said. He was going to marry her anyway. And maybe life wouldn’t be as pleasant at first, but he wouldn’t fret about it.

He was a patient man. Sooner or later he would have his way.

Chapter 21

Fanny sat at her dresser, looking at her image in the small mirror. She looked disheveled, with her hair all mussed and the dress slightly torn and dirty. She looked a mess—and it was kind of a relief, as she felt like a mess.

What had happened down in the gazebo? It had been as if she had tried to talk to a wall.

A brick wall.

A very inconsiderate brick wall, with no respect for her feelings or for the traditions of her family. How could he forget about the upcoming family gathering? They had it every year, and she had told him about it twice.

Twice, for goodness’ sake!

She grabbed her hairbrush and started to work through the tangled knots in her hair with swift, almost brutal movements, so that her scalp ached satisfyingly.

A part of her wondered why she was surprised. They had been talking constantly for months, and not once had he interrupted all her questions with one about her. He hadn’t even asked her why she had been so upset the night of his proposal. He still didn’t know about Penelope and how her friend’s situation had affected her, and she had a sinking feeling he wasn’t interested in knowing, either.

All in all, she had started to doubt if they were such a perfect match, despite what everyone kept telling them. How could they be, if he wasn’t interested in her? A part of her wanted to cancel the wedding, but the other part wanted to know if such doubts were reason enough.

She looked at the wardrobe where her bridal gown hung for display. It was such a beautiful gown, with layers upon layers of heavy ivory silk. The seamstress had outdone herself this time and created a gown worthy of a princess.

Or a duchess.

She sighed, a deep pitiful sigh, before she quickly changed into her nightgown, threw a shawl around her shoulders, and sneaked out into the corridor. She knocked softly at Penelope’s bedroom door before opening it to slink in and over to her friend’s bed.

Penelope stirred sleepily as Fanny slipped down under the quilt.

“Is everything okay?” she yawned.

“I have doubts about marrying Devlin, and I need you to tell me I’m stupid.”

Penelope moved slightly to offer her friend a little more space. “You are stupid.”

“How can you call me stupid, when you haven’t even been told why I am upset yet?”

“Easy. You are my friend, and I want to humor you the night before your wedding.”

“As my friend you are not supposed to humor me. You are supposed to tell me the truth, and nothing but the truth. And you are not supposed to call me stupid.”

Penelope moved to a more comfortable position, as if she could sense this was going to take some time. “So, what happened?”

“He’s not interested in me!”

Penelope gave Fanny a look that clearly told exactly how ridiculous she found the comment. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Fanny said, a bit hurt over how lightly her friend seemed to take this. “He doesn’t listen to a word I say, which is quite upsetting since I have been talking constantly for months.”

“I have to agree with the truth of your words, as your voice has been a constant companion since he proposed to you,” Penelope mused, and hid her face under her arm, as she was attacked with a pillow.

“Today we were talking about the wedding, and he told me how much he looked forward to spending time with me alone, when the whole wedding thing finally was over. When I reminded him gently about the family party we always have at Chester Park every August, and told him how we are to stay here for another week, he was genuinely surprised and quite aghast about it.”

“Well.” Penelope pondered. “I too would have been a little vexed about having to stay put for another week, when all I wanted to do was to take my new bride home.”

“But he has no right to be vexed,” Fanny cried out, startling her friend.

“For goodness’ sake, Fanny.” Penelope rolled her eyes. “He wants to be with you! Why are you so upset? If someone I loved made a little fuss about not being able to have me all to himself, I would thank my lucky stars for finding this man, not be upset about it.”

Fanny glared at her friend. “I. Do. Not. Love. Him.”

Penelope rolled her eyes again, not answering such an obvious lie.

“I don’t!”

“Yes, you do, and stop denying it.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, if you don’t, why are you so upset about him not listening to you?”

“Because I thought he respected me.”

Ah.

“Fanny, dearest,” Penelope said with her softest tone, silently wishing her friend would come to her senses again. “Being upset about finding out you won’t be able to have your new bride all to yourself is not in any way disrespectful. You know this is the truth, if you only let go of this childish tantrum of yours.”

“I’ve already told him about the festivities twice during the last week, so I still do think I can have as many tantrums as I like over the fact he apparently didn’t hear a word I have said.”

“I have to admit, that is a bit disrespectful.”

“Thank you.”

Silence ruled in the bedroom for a while. The dying fire in the old fireplace cast a soft yellow light over the ceiling above the large bed, and the shadows seemed to be dancing to the faint music still drifting from the barn.

“I don’t know what to do,” Fanny said quietly, in a hoarse, tearful voice. Penelope rolled over and hugged her tightly.

“Do you love him?”

Fanny nodded. This was not the time nor the place for pretending not to.

“Then marry him. If you don’t, you will regret it for the rest of your life. He is a good man, and he cares very much for you. And you know you will never find anyone better or more suitable.”

“Well…” Fanny laughed drowsily. “I can always marry Mr. Pembroke.”

Laughter filled the room, effectively wiping all sadness away, and when Caroline peeked in an hour later, they were both sound asleep.

She stood by the bed for a little while, watching the sleeping beauties. Her only daughter mumbled something in her sleep, just as she had done since she was a little girl, and tears over times now gone forever filled the loving mother’s eyes.

Never again would she be able to stand at her daughter’s bed watching her sleep. Fanny would now be sleeping in her new home with her husband.

If she only could turn time back and relive these past wonderful eighteen years again, she would do it in an instant. She was happy for her daughter’s marriage, and she would celebrate tomorrow, but this was her night of mourning.

She bent down and kissed her daughter’s cheek, her nose on the soft flesh smelling the faint scent that was Fanny’s.

The daughter was still too young to understand how much her life would change now, but the mother knew and could only hope she would have as little friction as possible during her installment as the new duchess. With tears running down her cheeks, she quietly left the room.

Chapter 22

Francesca Darling Ross, the Duchess of Hereford, was so angry with her new husband she couldn’t even look upon him.

Silently she stared out through the window of the carriage, watching the countryside slowly pass by. She was worn into pieces from keeping herself behaving like a lady instead of the furious woman who raged within.

He had tried to talk to her at first, awkward attempts to reach through her anger, with reasonable arguments about why he had decided they would leave as soon as the wedding ceremony was over.

But when she didn’t react to his words, he gave up and stayed just as quiet as she was.

One would think four days of silence would decrease her anger, but instead it had grown, and now as they drove up the road leading to his ancestral home she was practically seething. She had done everything she could think of to make him as angry as she was. She had even locked him out from the rooms he had rented for them at different inns throughout their journey.

But he had not said a word about it.

The first night he had knocked for a few minutes, begging her to let him in. But when she refused to reply or open the door, he left. She had spent the rest of the night wondering where he had gone and imagining him sharing a bed with some barmaid.