Page 37

T here’d been times, over the last few decades, that Cassian had missed his mother. Well, perhaps not her exactly, since she’d died when he’d been young, and he only remembered her as a rather quiet, bookish sort of woman.

But he’d missed the idea of family . Of someone who would have his back, someone who would support him even if they thought he was doing a terrible job, someone who would always be there for him.

The Biggenpanses had become that family, and he was delighted to know that they had and would continue to help him raise Gus in that sort of supportive, welcoming environment.

And then?—

And then he’d met Gabby’s family. The Lindsays. The Hayles. The Cummingses. Good God, how were all these people even related? It was difficult to keep track .

Aunt Sophia, as she’d insisted on being called, had arranged this wedding with barely a hiccup. She and Gabby had put their heads together and whipped together an event that rivaled Society’s grandest affairs, and in only a matter of weeks. And the guest list?

Well, Princess Louise might have been in the front pew of the church, silently blessing their union and their future with her presence…but Cassian had been most touched by the outpouring of love and support from everyone else.

Bull sat beside the Duke and Duchess of Exingham with their twin children, beaming proudly as if this marriage had been his doing.

Behind him sat his sister Marcia, whom Cassian had met just last week, along with her new husband Hawk—was there some unspoken rule that everyone in this family was named after an animal?

Next to Marcia were her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Peasgoode, and her younger brother Rupert, who kept leaning forward to make googly eyes at Hawk’s niece, whose name Cassian had completely forgotten.

And those were just the relatives he could remember the names of.

On his side of the aisle, Cassian had only the Biggenpanses, since Gus was standing proudly at the altar beside him, wearing a kilt in a tartan to match his own.

“These things are drafty, Da,” he’d muttered under his breath. “How am I supposed to get anything done in it?”

Truthfully, Cassian had to agree with his son. Not because he wasn’t proud of his family colors, or because he stood out—half the men in the church were wearing kilts. But it felt fooking strange, to be standing here with his prosthetic—his scars —on display.

The kilt covered none of his injury, and the sock didn’t help much either. The evidence of his disability was on display for the world—for his new family —to see… And to his surprise, he didn’t care.

Gabby and Gus thought he was good enough, whole enough, for them…and that’s what mattered. And so he was grinning…despite the draft.

“It’s for special occasions,” Cassian had whispered back. “Like standing in front of a half-dozen bleeding dukes, trying to remember yer own name.”

His son had snorted at that. “It’s a good thing Gabby’s a bastard like ye, Da, because I’d hate to be claimed by so many nobles. That one hasn’t stopped scowling.”

Cassian suspected the lad meant the Duke of Lickwick, whose scowl seemed general, rather than particular. Whenever anyone so much as looked at his pretty daughter, the man actually snarled like a beast, to both his wife and daughter’s amusement.

That might’ve been worth considering for a moment, had Gabby not stepped into the church at that moment on the arm of a beaming Hunter, and Cassian forgot about anyone else.

Forgot about any thing else, besides his future with this remarkable woman.

Something so momentous should have taken longer, but the ceremony confusingly flew past. Or perhaps it only felt that way because Cassian couldn’t take his eyes off his bride long enough to pay attention to many of the words.

He knew he vowed to love, cherish and protect this woman for the rest of their lives, and she’d said the same about him.

There were rings, and there was most definitely a kiss, and then Gus was making coughing noises and Hunter was cheering and Cassian and Gabby were officially married.

Wed.

Husband and wife.

It was surreal.

It was wonderful.

Less wonderful, perhaps, was the reception Aunt Sophia had arranged afterwards, which required Cassian to not only be on his best behavior, but also remember everyone’s names and relationships to everyone else, an impossible task.

Thank fook Gabby was at his side during the reception line.

“Congratulations!” a woman who was almost certainly Marcia cried, throwing her arms first around Gabby, then Cassian. “I am so happy for you both!”

Her new husband Buzzard—Buzzard? Hawk—was more circumspect, but his grin seemed genuine as he offered his hand.

“Welcome to the menagerie—I mean family, Cassian. If ye ever need backup, let me ken. This crowd can get overwhelming at times.” He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially.

“Most of them arenae even related to each other!”

“That does not matter, Uncle Maxwell,” said his pretty niece, probably Allison, as she curtseyed. “Family is made by love, not blood.”

“Aye,” sighed Marcia’s younger brother Rupert, staring besottedly at the young woman.

“Aye,” echoed Gabby, smothering her giggle as she gathered Gus to her side and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Right, son?”

Cassian had to chuckle as the lad twisted awkwardly in her hold, then Gus paused and sighed hugely. “ Aye , I suppose. Can I go see the cake, Gabby? Barrett said to meet him there and we can?—”

When Cassian opened his mouth to warn his son not to make any trouble, Gabby interrupted him with another, gentler kiss. “Aye, make good choices.”

Gus squirmed from her arms and ran off, kilt flapping, and Cassian hummed as Marcia’s family moved on. “Should I be worried about how much trouble two lads can get into near a cake?”

Gabby’s arm threaded through his. “Bear is a calm sort of lad. I am actually hoping our son will bring him out of his shell, and if that costs us some chaos, then so be it. What?”

Our son .

Her words had been so innocuous, so natural, that Cassian’s objection to incoming cake chaos died on his lips as he stared down at her. “Ye are a wonder, Gabrielle Grey. Thank ye for loving Gus as much as I do.”

He tried not to find it alluring, the way her cheeks pinked. They had hours to go before their wedding night, after all, but he was unable to resist bending down and kissing his new wife.

Wife .

She was his, and he was hers, and he couldn’t be happier.

Gus had given his approval to the match, same as Uncle Dickie and Aunt Zilphia, but the laddie still called her Gabby .

And that was acceptable; Cassian approved of the lad’s desire to honor the woman who gave him life.

But at the same time, Cassian liked to think that Artemesia would be pleased to know the two of them had found joy again, and made a new little family.

A new home. A new future.

“I love ye,” he murmured against Gabby’s lips. He hadn’t said it enough to his first wife, hadn’t been home enough to say it. He vowed, here and now, that Gabby would never have to wonder where he was, or what he was doing, or if he valued her. “Thank ye for giving me a future.”

Her lips curled under his and her eyes fluttered closed. “I only nudged things along, Cassian. You and your men were heroes?—”

“No’ that,” he interrupted, dropping another kiss. “Though I appreciate it.” Another kiss. “I meant…thank ye.” Yet another. “For showing me how to love with all my being.” Another kiss. “For loving me and Gus?—”

A new voice cut through their bliss. “Oh, for fook’s sake, Georgia, I’m no’ standing around watching the two of them rut like?—”

The growl was cut off with a shushing , and Cassian straightened, flushing guiltily to find the Duchess of Lickwick glaring at her husband.

The husband seemed unimpressed. “I dinnae mind people being amorous , love, but putrid flop-gibbons, this is ridiculous! Gabby’s a wee baby lassie?—”

“She happens to be older than your daughter,” his wife informed him primly.

“—and if any bastard tried to shove his tongue down her throat the way that bastard is doing to young Gabby—” The Duke cut himself off with a glare as he realized they’d moved to the front of the receiving line.

Admittedly, his wife stepping forcefully on his foot likely influenced him too.

“Oh. Hello. Congratulations. Pretty dress. Et cetera .”

Gabby, despite her pink cheeks, smiled at the pair of them.

“Hello, Uncle Demon, Aunt Georgia. Thank you ever so much for joining us today on our special day. Please meet my extremely kissable husband, Cassian Grey.”

Cassian bent over the Duchess’s hand, murmuring niceties, then offered his hand to the Duke. “I’m a bastard, aye, but that wasnae my tongue down Gabby’s throat, and she’s auld enough to decide if I’m worth it.”

The Duke of Lickwick— Uncle Demon? —squeezed his hand. “I like ye,” he barked, nodding to Gabby. “Good work, Gabs.”

The young woman at his side embraced Gabby, even as her younger brother—he must be her younger brother, because he had Demon’s dark coloring—stepped in to shake Cassian’s hand .

“You are so beautiful, Gabs,” the girl sighed. “I cannot wait for my wedding.”

“No’ for many decades,” her father growled.

The lass winked at Gabby. “Speaking of which, have you seen Bull? I swore I saw him…” she said as she pulled away and began to crane her neck to peer at the crowd.

“Rosie!” barked her father, yanking away from the niceties to follow his daughter. “Rose Marie Hayle, I warned ye to stay away from that philandering well-dressed cock-wobbler! Rosie, come back here, ye malignant?—”

“Language, dear,” sighed the Duchess as she dipped her head in Gabby’s direction, slid her arm through her son’s, and followed after her husband.

At Cassian’s side, Gabby began to giggle. To his surprise, the man who stepped up to shake his hand next was also laughing.