Page 8 of Forever and a Duke (The Bridewell Sisters #1)

CHAPTER 7

I f the dowager duchess’s intention was to make Lily doubt whether she would do well in the role of Duchess of Edgerton, she’d succeeded.

But only momentarily.

The lavishness of the luncheon service could overwhelm anyone who wasn’t used to such formality. At Briarfield, her parents had rarely been formal at table. Family meals were a place of discussion and laughter. No one cared if they had matching plates or their silverware was in the proper arrangement.

Somehow, Griffin sensed her feelings as he sat beside her. Under the table, he offered his hand palm up.

His grandmother watched her closely, and Lily suspected she’d note the exchange.

Perhaps the test was to show that she could handle any challenge on her own. The dowager clearly hadn’t expected Griffin to join the luncheon. Yet that wasn’t the Bridewell way either. Leaning on each other was as much a part of their family’s traditions as lively dinners.

So Lily laid her palm against his below the edge of the table, where only her sisters sitting nearest might notice. He gave her hand a squeeze, all the while answering a question that Lady Harrington had asked him.

Lily relished the warmth of his touch and the reassurance he offered. Then she lifted her hand to take a sip from her teacup. Throughout the hour they’d been at table, she continually kept watch that her sisters were at ease. Daphne seemed to be soaking it all in eagerly, the twins had apparently been stunned by the pomp of it all into near-perfect etiquette, and Ivy observed everything and everyone warily.

The announcement of their engagement had come before a single bite of food was served, and the ladies the dowager invited had all expressed their well wishes, even if a few couldn’t quite hide their surprise. Over the next hour, they volunteered Lily for half a dozen charitable events and invited her to as many soirees.

Lily nodded politely and smiled, certain she’d forget half of what she’d committed herself to by the end of the day. Whenever she felt thoroughly at sea, she peeked at Griffin.

Beside her, he spoke to Lady Mortimer about how long he and Lily had known each other with such warmth in his voice that Lily wondered if he had noticed her in ways she’d never realized. Had she somehow misread him and his feelings towards her over the years?

Only when the noblewoman mentioned his friendship with Leo did Lily sense his discomfort. His replies became more curt, his posture stiff. It was clear that loss still haunted him as it did Lily and all her sisters.

As the final course was swept away and dessert served, Lily offered her own hand to him, palm up, matching what he’d done for her earlier.

He laid his atop hers for only a moment before raising it above the table edge to reach for his dessert spoon, but the firm set of his shoulders had eased.

As soon as dessert was cleared, Lily breathed a sigh of relief. Her sisters had behaved with almost flawless manners. No food had been spilled. No inappropriate comments had been blurted by Ivy. The twins had even managed to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles as they were wont to do.

She expected the visiting and discussion might continue into a drawing room, as would have been the custom at the Bridewell home. But after they’d departed the Rosemere dining room, each noblewoman bid their adieus, most promising Lily that she would soon receive the invitations they’d mentioned.

Once everyone had departed, the dowager turned to Lily. “Well done, Miss Bridewell.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

After only a moment of allowing Lily to bask in her praise, the dowager swung her attention to Griffin. “I suppose the next event shall be the wedding. Have you set a date?”

Griffin slipped a hand inside his suit coat and lifted out a folded document. “I have secured the special license. Shall we say in two days?”

Daphne gasped.

Hyacinth gulped.

Lily’s belly dropped to her toes. “ Two days?”

“May we have a moment, Grandmama?” Though he stood next to her, Griffin’s voice sounded somehow distant.

“Come, young ladies,” the dowager called, clapping her hands, “let us give these two a very little bit of privacy.” She arched a brow at Griffin. “But only a few moments, my boy. You’re not married to her yet.”

He gave his grandmother a long-suffering smile and immediately guided Lily to a nook in Rosemere’s grand entry hall so they might have something like seclusion from passing staff.

“It’s so soon,” Lily whispered with a glance toward where the dowager duchess had led her sisters through to what appeared to be a grand drawing room.

“But I thought you’d want haste,” Griffin whispered. “Dashford seemed quite determined?—”

“No, yes, of course you’re right.” The prospect of more days at Briarfield as Edwin stalked the rooms and inventoried the family’s belongings wasn’t what any of them wanted. It kept them all in a state of nervous anxiety.

“Would a few more days put your mind at ease?” He drew close, and somehow his nearness, which usually made her a flushed, nervous ninny, soothed her today.

One look into his gray-blue eyes and suddenly waiting seemed nonsensical. He was offering them all a home—and an opulent one at that—and safety from the uncertainty of Edwin’s whims.

“We’ll do it at the chapel,” he told her. “With just my grandmother and Lady Harrington as witnesses. And of course your sisters.” Bending, he leaned in a bit closer. “Invite Dashford only if you feel you must.”

Lily chuckled.

“Best to get it done immediately,” he said softly, then arched a brow as if waiting for her agreement. “That way Dashford can exert no more pressure and all of you can begin getting used to your new home.”

The reasons were practical. Logical. Nothing to do with his eagerness to be with her, she noted. No keenness to share his life, his thoughts, and his bed. Based on what she’d seen upstairs, she wondered if they’d ever sleep in the same room at all.

But of course, that wasn’t why they were marrying. She reminded herself it was not a love match. It was sensible, and she’d insisted to Daphne that such a marriage would be enough for her.

So why did her foolish heart insist on wishing it was more?

Lily nodded her assent. “Two days it is.”

Two Days Later

Griffin paced the carpet in his study and eyed the drinks cart, though he knew imbibing moments before he exchanged vows was a dreadful idea.

Lily had arrived with her sisters in tow an hour ago, but, of course, his grandmother insisted on the nonsense of him waiting until the ceremony to see her. He’d attempted to leverage his power as head of the dukedom to bypass the tradition, but his grandmother had fixed him with one of those steely looks that made lesser men shudder. Then she’d asked the one question it felt as if she’d been sharpening like a barb for that precise moment.

“Are you having doubts, my boy?”

His hackles had risen to the bait, and he’d been on the verge of biting back when her manner softened.

“There is still time if you do. The last thing you’ll want is regrets. Either yours or hers.”

She’d strode forward and lifted a hand to cup his cheek as she’d done since he was a boy. Then she’d left him alone with this thoughts.

It was the hers that caused all the relief and rightness he’d felt the last few days to ebb. Not dissipate entirely, just reduce a bit, providing room for doubt to slip in.

For his own part, he remained certain of the choice he’d made, the bride he’d chosen, the feeling that he had done right by his departed friend. He was gaining a beautiful, clever wife.

But what of Lily? Had she hoped for a love match?

He could not deny that she deserved one. Indeed, Griffin could never understand why she hadn’t been overflowing with suitors during her first Season out. He’d attended a ball she’d gone to that year and had watched her partnered for nearly every dance. Even then, he’d wondered how Leo would react if he danced with his eldest sister. But he hadn’t asked.

When Leo told him Lily was preparing for her second Season, he’d scoffed. Were the gentlemen blind? Never in his life had he met a woman more worthy of being the Season’s diamond.

But then her second Season had been cut short when she returned to Briarfield to care for her mother, who’d fallen ill. Had she missed out on a gentleman who would have courted her as she deserved?

Now the lady would be his duchess. Every time he thought of it, his chest swelled with pride and a potent flare of possessiveness.

Yet he was going to meet her in his family’s chilly and rarely used chapel and have the quickest, most bare-bones ceremony he could arrange on short notice.

Bloody fool. He ran a hand through his hair.

He should have planned something more lavish. She deserved that.

“Your Grace?” His valet, Keswick, had slipped into his bedchamber. “The ceremony is imminent.”

Griffin drew in a deep breath. Then he made his way down the stairs, out the front door, and strode across the dew-damp grass toward the family chapel.

Organ music drifted toward him, and the reality of what he was on the cusp of settled over him.

He picked up his pace, eager to see Lily. Desperate to see if he could detect any doubt in her eyes.

His grandmother stood in the arched doorway of the chapel. “Never leave your bride waiting,” she told him in an amused tone. “I suppose I should have given that advice before now.”

“Am I late?”

“Almost.” She wrapped her arm around his to lead him inside. “I detect only eagerness in your face, my boy.”

“I do not doubt my choice, Grandmama.”

“Good. You have that ring?”

He patted his waistcoat pocket. “Yes.”

With that, he escorted her into the chapel and found that it had been brought to life with flowers and candles, though it was early in the day. And, of course, the youngest Bridewell sisters stood near the front.

His grandmother stopped at a pew where Lady Harrington sat, and he waited until she’d taken a seat. Then he strode to the head of the chapel, where the vicar greeted him.

Only a moment later, the organist played with greater fervor, and Lily appeared in the doorway he’d just entered.

She looked like something out of a dream. Her blonde hair had been swept up in an elaborate arrangement with tiny white flowers and bejeweled combs. Her veil sparkled in the light spilling in from behind her. Though they stood some distance apart, he saw eagerness in her gaze, and it buoyed him.

It was a moment before he noticed that Dashford stood beside her. Though it made sense that her nearest male relation would give her away, the man’s presence rankled.

Griffin focused only on Lily.

He’d never felt so lucky in his life as he did when she strode toward him to promise she’d be his for the rest of their days. Though he’d vowed this was not a love match, something in his chest bloomed with warmth. It felt as if some knot inside him was slowly unfurling.

The vicar recited the exhortation and then put the questions to each of them.

“Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife…?”

Griffin said, “I will,” almost before the vicar had asked if he’d keep only unto her as long as they both lived.

Lily smiled, and after the vicar had put the same question to her, she immediately replied, “I will.”

Then came the question of who gave Lily to be married to him.

Dashford seemed surprisingly even-tempered as he acknowledged his duty.

Finally, Griffin could reach for her. He held out his hand, just as he’d done days ago. The mere privilege of knowing she’d respond when he reached for her felt like a victory over all the moments in his life when he’d failed.

Today, as she slipped her hand in his, a frisson jolted up his arm. As if she was the spark that would bring light into his life and sweep away all the darkness of the last six months.

The vicar then led both of them in the repeating of their vows.

As Griffin spoke the words “my wedded wife, to have and to hold” his voice dropped lower. He went on repeating the vows even as his heart began a racing tattoo in his chest. This was the most important moment of his life. And barring that one cold night in October, the most consequential.

She repeated her vows without reservation. “I, Lily Augusta Bridewell, take thee…”

Griffin studied each lovely feature of her face as she spoke—her gorgeous blue eyes, the sprinkle of tawny freckles along her nose, and the curve of her cheeks. Those full, pink lips he’d kiss beginning today and, he hoped, every day after.

Her eyes studied his features too, flicking down more than once to his lips.

She seemed to want that first kiss as much as he did.

As she said the word “obey,” there was a decided scoff from Ivy, but Lily didn’t take notice. “…and thereto I plight thee my troth,” she finished, her hand warm and steady in his.

He didn’t let her go as he dug for the ring with his free hand. The glittering diamond and sapphire-studded band had been in the Kingsley family for generations, and yet it looked absolutely right on Lily’s finger.

The vicar continued with the pronouncement that they were now man and wife and afterwards offered a final prayer and blessing. Then the small gathering rose as one and cheered and clapped and shouted their well wishes.

Amidst the sounds of felicity, Griffin only cared about the little intake of breath as he bent to take Lily’s lips in a kiss. He’d intended it to be chaste, proper, and yet she responded eagerly, and so he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her closer.

Her lips were far sweeter, far softer than any of his fantasies.

By the time he lifted his head, she was as breathless as he was.

They turned to face those they’d forgotten about for a moment.

A moment that promised a passion he’d only imagined and secretly hoped for between them. Still, he told himself to proceed slowly. She wasn’t a lady he could tup and discard. She was his bride, a partner for all the coming days of his life.

Uncertainty tried to steal its way into his mind. Did he truly deserve Leo’s most beautiful sister after leading the man down a fatal path? Could he be worthy of her, or would he fall into his usual foolish choices?

No , some deep part of him responded fiercely, and he inadvertently squeezed her hand too tight.

She just smiled and gave him an answering squeeze.

You’re a lucky bastard . Halford had said those words to him a day after he’d lost Leo and narrowly avoided Pomeroy’s bullet himself. He’d punched the man for his comment. Then again until he found some modicum of control.

He hadn’t felt lucky. In that moment and for months afterwards, he’d been so lost in grief, he’d wanted nothing so much as to have traded his life for his friend’s.

Now, for the first time in half a year, he felt fortunate.

Lily Kingsley was now his to care for, as he’d just vowed, and he would not let his weaknesses, his impulsive nature, his urges and impulses, ever prevent him from giving her all that she deserved.

Duty mattered most to Griffin now, to those who relied on him in the dukedom, to his family that had just grown by four sisters, and to his wife, who understood duty as well as he did. Probably better.

“Well, Georgina,” Lady Harrington whispered to his grandmother more loudly than she likely imagined, “after that kiss, I do hope Rosemere’s staff will be serving cool drinks at the reception.”