I Thee Wed (29 page)

When she lifted her head a bit, Orion had very little breath left. Just a little, enough to gasp. “Do it again. Practice makes perfect.”

She laughed against his lips. “I fear I have just publicly compromised you, Mr. Worthington. I suppose I'd best make an honest man of you now.”

Orion felt his family gather closer around them. Francesca did as well, for she straightened and sat quite primly upon his knee. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Orion grinned at her, then glanced bashfully around at his family and hers.

Archie smiled genially at Orion and Francesca. “‘Amen, if you love her; for the lady is well worthy.'”

“
Much Ado About Nothing
.” Iris sighed. “My favorite!”

“Scene one, act one,” said every single Worthington in unison.

Francesca put a startled hand to her cheek. “Oh, I should get Nonna Laura's permission first!”

Archie smiled happily. “Ah, how is your grandmother, dear? I haven't spoken to her in many years.”

Orion turned his head to frown at his father. “You know Nonna Laura?”

“Oh my, yes.” Archie raised a woolly brow. “I studied physics under Dr. Laura Bassi at the University of Bologna. That was before I realized my future lay in literature.”

Orion's jaw dropped. Laura Bassi? Innovator in physics, natural studies, electricity, and nearly every branch of science in the world? Orion shut his mouth, then swallowed hard. He was marrying into scientific royalty, and he hadn't even known it!

“She used to invite me to dinner with her family.” Archie tucked Iris's arm into his as he strolled away. “I recall meeting Volta at her villa, and Charles Bonnet, and even . . .”

Orion turned to Francesca. “Your relations are the Verattis?” According to what he'd read about her, Laura Bassi had
wed fellow scientist Giuseppe Veratti and proceeded to have twelve children while maintaining her professorship.

She sighed. “Oh yes. A rather exhausting bunch of high achievers. I like your family better. They know how to have
fun
!”

As if to prove her point, Archie clapped his hands and announced to everyone that they ought to roast chestnuts on the coals of the destroyed lab.

Orion took the opportunity to nuzzle Francesca's ear. “I'd rather have breakfast . . . and a bath.”

She sighed. “Oh yes. I'm starving. And that bath had better be for two!”

Miraculously, they managed to sneak away from the families undetected. At least, Orion thought so until he saw Iris turn his way . . .

And wink.

O
RION Worthington and Francesca Penrose stood face-to-face in the small stone chapel of the tiny village near the Worthington estate, awash in the sacred hush of the moment. As their gazes locked, Orion smiled with the utmost gentleness, and Francesca knew she would remember this moment the rest of her days.

They were together, pledging their love, the only two people who existed in the entire world.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Orion slipped a simple gold band down Francesca's left finger, and in the silence she swore she could hear his heartbeat.

It was her turn. Francesca took a breath to ensure her voice remained steady. “With this ring, I thee wed.” The gold fit snugly around his flesh and before she could pull away, Orion grabbed her hand. He didn't wish to let go.

The couple held on to each other in the quiet. Never had Francesca been surer of anything—she loved Orion Worthington to the depths of her being, and he loved her more than life itself. Hadn't all the evidence supported that theory?

“This is taking
forever
! What are they waiting for?”

“In the theater, it is called a dramatic pause, Attie, darling.” From her seat in the front pew, Iris gestured grandly toward the minister. “Continue with the scene!”

And so the vicar did. With a voice that rang through the small church, he said the words for which everyone had waited: “I now pronounce you man and wife!”

Without warning, Francesca's feet left the altar. Orion lifted her into his arms and began kissing her senseless. It was a scorching kiss, a possessive kiss much like the one they'd shared on the Duke of Camberton's terrace, yet today they had nothing to hide.

The crowd of friends and family burst into raucous applause at the minister's declaration, and when it appeared Orion might never stop kissing Francesca, their approval became a roar accented by shouts, stomps, and several piercing, two-fingered whistles likely supplied by Castor.

When Francesca finally came up for air, Orion gazed down at her, unabashed joy and mischief in his dark blue eyes. “This crowd seems a bit disorderly, Mrs. Worthington,” he said. “Shall we make a run for it?”

“Run mad, Mr. Worthington!”

Orion never let Francesca's feet hit the floor. He swung her up into his arms and proudly carried her through the pressing horde inside—and outside—the church. Because the chapel had been filled to capacity, additional wedding guests were assembled outdoors in the English morning sunshine.

Not an hour later, the newly married couple approached the grounds of Worthington Manor, the family's large country estate tucked into the Shropshire countryside. A procession of carriages snaked its way behind them.

Orion glanced down at his beautiful, rosy-cheeked wife pressed against him in the carriage, her hair now cut in a short, curly bob and woven through with ribbon. She looked positively scrumptious in the traditional Italian wedding dress Button had created for the occasion, a soft green silk so pale
she seemed to be floating in a mist, the soft color setting off the honeyed glow of her bosom.

“We are almost there!” she cried.

He hoped the setting would be all she envisioned. It had taken much persuasion for him to agree to Francesca's plan—she wished to hold their wedding supper on the grounds of the Worthington family's estate. His concern was that having a fire-damaged manor house in the background of their celebration would bring back the harsh memories of the laboratory blaze, just weeks past. Francesca assured him she would be fine.

“Is the manor not being restored?” she'd asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Then its return to glory is a celebration of life itself!”

The grounds came into view. She clutched at the forearm of Orion's coat.
“Bellisimo!”
she cried.
“Molto bello! Favoloso!”
Francesca looked up at him with wonder in her warm brown eyes.

A level section of the front lawn near the creek had been carved out as the setting for their wedding feast. Tables of all shapes and sizes were covered with colorful fabrics and surrounded by a wide assortment of chairs—some work chairs, some kitchen chairs, and some upholstered wing chairs. Pottery jugs overflowed with wildflowers. As his sister Elektra had reported, the accommodations had been made possible by the efforts of many villagers and most of the Worthington household staff, and by her own labor and that of Calliope and Iris. The much-pregnant Miranda's contribution had been keeping Attie out of the way.

The guests arrived, and though Francesca had herself prepared and coordinated the preparation of most of the delicacies, it took the vigilance of nearly everyone present to keep her from dishing out plates of food at her own wedding feast. The menu was not the usual English fare, but instead a combination of familiar dishes and those from a traditional Italian wedding
festa
. Several items had been shipped from Italy just
for the occasion—olives, wine, and prosciutto among them. Entrées were noodles with a variety of Francesca's sauces, along with an English roast beef, venison, and veal; roasted summer vegetables; and fresh fruits. Dessert featured her specialty—dozens and dozens of her small seed cakes topped with swirls of cream icing.

Blessed with a splendid summer day and a lively crowd, Francesca and Orion barely sat during the festivities. There were too many guests to laugh with, too many family members and friends with whom to visit.

Not long into the meal, a rather breathless Duke of Camberton raced up to Orion. “Is Bliss here? I do not see her!”

Orion noted the forlorn expression on Neville's face. “Right over there.” He pointed to a spot in the trees where Bliss and Calliope were emerging, likely after walking along the creek.

Neville was off like a shot.

As the newly married couple strolled from table to table, they repeatedly encountered a boisterous threesome—Attie and her little friend, Charlie Darwin, either running after or running from Herbert, the bunny. Herbert, a pretty pink ribbon around her neck, had reclined in Attie's lap during the wedding ceremony, behaving more like a trained puppy than a rabbit. Little Charlie was obviously exhausted from the running. Attie had informed Orion that the brilliant little boy spent most of his time in the library and she was trying to improve his circulatory system.

Judith and Asher believed they were being sly about it, but it was clear they could not bear to be more than an inch apart from each other. Several times they disappeared behind a large oak close to the creek, only to reappear in a state of disorder. Judith's hair and dress were mussed, but her eyes sparkled. A dazed smile had become a permanent fixture on Asher's face.

“I wonder if he's popped the question.” Orion said this aloud while standing next to his brother Dade.

“And how would he manage that?” Dade asked with a chuckle. “Semaphores? The fellow doesn't speak!”

“I'm certain he'll find the right words at the right time.” Francesca shot a playful grin Orion's way.

Suddenly, a chorus of female voices could be heard above the conversation, and all eyes turned to where Miranda stretched out on a wing chair, Iris, Attie, Elektra, and Calliope twittering around her.

“It's her time!” Callie cried, and the announcement had the effect of a call to arms. Iris directed the troops, and the women went into action, gathering supplies and summoning a carriage.

Orion and Dade rushed to Miranda's side along with their brother and her husband, Castor.

“I am here, my love.” Cas crouched by the chair and held her hand. “Everything will be all right.”

“I don't think I can do this!” The flushed Miranda began panting, fear shadowing her eyes.

“Don't worry, dear. You'll be fine.” Iris stood calm among the nervous crowd, reaching for Miranda's other hand, which she began to pat rhythmically, her voice soft and reassuring. “We'll get you to the village midwife, who is quite competent. She delivered two of my eight—Elektra and Attie—and she'll see you through this.”

“But—” Miranda winced with a wave of contractions. “The pain!”

“Oh, nonsense!” Iris said brightly, directing the carriage to pull as close as possible to Miranda. “It's just like falling off a log . . . and then getting run over by an ale cart. But you'll be fine.”

Moments later, Francesca was pressed tightly to Orion's side as they watched the carriage take Miranda, Iris, and Cas to the village. Judith and Asher came to stand nearby, and Judith's eyes were wide with alarm.

“Heavens, that was dramatic!” she exclaimed, pressing a palm to her throat.

Orion gave her a wry smile. “On the contrary, Cousin—for a Worthington event, we have thus far an exceedingly low body count.”

It was then that Francesca noticed members of the Blayne House staff assisting with the event. “How did you convince your father's staff to come all the way to Shropshire?”

Judith said, “They're my staff now, and they are quite embarrassed about Pennysmith's departure with Papa's silver trophy cups while everyone else was battling the flames and searching for you.”

“As well they should be,” Francesca said with asperity. “And what is the latest news of Sir Geoffrey?”

“I am told that his stay in the private hospital will be quite lengthy.” Judith seemed unconcerned about her father, then smiled at Francesca. “There will be plenty of room for you and Orion to move in once you return from your honeymoon in Italy.”

Orion took the opportunity to ask Judith if she would look in on Attie while they were gone.

“Of course!” she said. “I will be visiting Worthington House often for my painting lessons with Iris.”

Francesca reached for her cousin's hand. “Are you quite sure you are comfortable sitting across the dining table from Mr. and Mrs. Worthington on a daily basis?”

Judith broke out into a smile that transformed her cool perfection into a warm, welcoming beauty. “You won't be the only married couple at the table for long.”

The usually silent Asher choked, recovered himself, and said, “I accept.”

Judith and Asher grasped hands tightly for a moment, and she hid her giddy embarrassment by gazing outward across the grounds. “It's going to be beautiful again someday. It's so peaceful here. So quiet.”

Orion and Francesca turned to each other.

“It's quiet,” he said.

“That's bad,” she said.

“Where's Attie?” they asked in unison.

Moments later, Dade and Lysander were waist deep in the brook, fishing the floundering Charlie Darwin out of the brisk current. Orion extended his hand to Attie, who scrambled up the creek bank to muddy Orion's wedding suit. All the while, Herbert watched safely from a patch of moss, her whiskers fluffing innocently.

“You're older than Charlie,” he reminded her. “You should have kept him out of the deepest water.”

Attie was clearly offended. “I'm helping him. He needs to get more fit if he is to survive,” she said.

Once the dramatic rescue was complete, Orion found he had lost track of Francesca, and located her at the refreshment tables, serving the last of the seed cakes. He headed in that direction, intending to retrieve her and, he hoped, finagle some cake before it disappeared entirely.

“Mrs. Worthington,” he said, giving her a gallant bow and holding out his hand, “I urgently require your presence, and one of your cakes.”

She glanced up at him, a smile on her lips, and snatched one of the remaining cakes. “Where are we going, Mr. Worthington?” she asked, holding the cloth-wrapped sweet in one hand as he led her away from the table.

“There is a fine botanical specimen of a
Quercus robur
on the grounds,” he said, guiding her toward the ancient oak near the creek.

She smiled when she saw that particular tree. “Oh, I love botanical specimens!”

Once they had made their way to the far side of the great tree, the world faded away. Alone at last, sheltered by the huge limbs of the oak, Orion dropped kisses on her summer-warmed neck and collarbone.

“I thought you wanted cake,” she said teasingly.

“Can't I have both? You and cake go so well together.”

With a small smile, Francesca broke off a piece of cake with her fingers and lifted it to his lips. Bite by bite, they
shared the confection, their lips and fingers sweetened with icing. When the cake was gone, he moved in for a deep, sugary kiss.

Orion brushed his lips across her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I'm glad I finally persuaded you to say yes.”

“It was quite a chase, wasn't it?” She sighed happily, snuggling closer to him. “But I finally caught you.”

Orion lowered his face into her hair to catch the orange-blossom scent of her, knowing that in his arms he held the greatest discovery of all.

The couple was so lost in each other, they didn't notice the black-and-white rabbit sitting up tall at their feet, whiskers twitching with
amusement.