Page 34 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl (Seven Deadly Sins #4)

London, England

One fortnight later

T he Countess of Wakefield—now the Dowager Countess of Wakefield—was not taking the news well. Not. At. All.

Granted, Wakefield’s mother never took anything well. She never had. There’d been horror and outrage when Wakefield’s eldest sibling, Aldora, threw over a respectable marquess for the man’s scandal-ridden brother. After that, there’d come the dowager countess’s volatile response to Katherine marrying Bainbridge—because of course, only the dowager countess would be angry with a daughter marrying a duke. Not when she’d had her sights on a different bridegroom for Katherine, their toad of a cousin, Mr. Ekstrom.

Ah, and then there’d been Mother’s shameful handling of Anne’s feelings for—and eventual marriage to—the Earl of Stanhope.

It would seem, however based on the dowager countess’s reaction to Wakefield’s news, his decision happened to be a line too far.

Seated next to Cressida on the cushioned window-seat that overlooked Mayfair, Wakefield acknowledged he’d never predicted this indecorous display—his mother lambasting him for all London to see and remark upon.

After all, he’d deliberately chosen his place here next to Cressida to shield her from any potential display from her new mother-in-law.

With the lecture the dowager countess continued to heap on Wakefield’s ears, however, it appeared his offense was the most grievous crime any of her four children had committed in their collective years on this earth.

Beset by guilt, he slid his fingers into Cressida’s. “I’m so sorry,” he said, soundlessly.

Cressida opened her mouth.

The dowager countess missed nothing. “You are sorry?” she squawked. “Do you truly think an apology will appease me or your sisters?”

He looked to his elder sisters for help—as did their mother.

Alas, by the trio of glowers trained his way, no help was coming from the sibling front.

The dowager countess raised her voice. “Do you?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out his apologies had been to his wife. He thought better of it. Suitable contrition was the way to end this as quick as possible. “No—”

“No, you don’t!” Katherine finished for him. She folded her arms at her chest, “That’s right. An apology is insufficient.”

At her side, Anne crossed her arms to match her sister’s pose, and responded only with an agreeing nod and glare for Wakefield.

Worried lines creased his wife’s brow. He leaned down and whispered close to her ear. “They’re usually better than this.”

Cressida lifted her hopeful gaze to him. “All of them?”

“No.” He spoke out the side of his mouth. “Only the twins. Aldora is rarely in London. But my mother…” He gave his head a regretful shake. “This is a familiar state you can expect to find the dowager countess in.”

“Lovely,” Cressida said, through lips that barely moved.

“Are you smiling, Benedict?” Anne exclaimed. She spun to Katherine. “Is he—?”

He slapped a hand to his heart. “I would never.”

Mother fixed a glare to kill on him. “There are many things you would do…included among them is hurting your mother and sisters.”

“That was not my—” Intention .

The rest of his assurances were lost to the dowager countess’s latest—and first—diatribe against her only son. Before now, Aldora, Anne, and Katherine were the recipients of Mother’s displeasure.

The dowager countess raised her voice several decibels. “Whatever were you thinking, Benedict?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

Accustomed though he was to the dowager countess’s occasional tempers, the same could not be said for Cressida.

He glanced at his newly wedded wife. She epitomized calm.

Feeling his eyes on her, Cressida peeked up at him.

Wakefield gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Cressida,” he whispered.

Her lips trembled. “I love you, t—”

“This is unforgiveable, Benedict!” Mother cried. “Do you hear me?”

“I’m certain all of London heard you, Mother,” Wakefield said dryly. Here. This is something he and his irate sisters could unify around—calling out their mother amidst her temper.

The dowager countess sputtered. “Are you making a jest, Benedict?” she squawked. “After…after…this?” She slashed a furious hand in an X formation at Wakefield and Cressida.

The more surprising bit of it all? Wakefield’s sisters, stood shoulder to shoulder in their support of the dowager countess.

The righteous anger left the dowager countess so quickly, Wakefield got a dreadful jolt. Then, something he’d never before seen in his life happened—tears glittered in his mother’s eyes. “How could you have married without any of your family present?” she whispered; hurt bleeding from her tones.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” he said quietly. “I truly am.” The reason he’d done so was because he and Cressida both agreed they’d wanted a quiet—hasty—affair with only they two present, and the witness who was responsible for their union—Lord Dynevor. He couldn’t have foreseen in a hundred thousand years his mother would so warmly welcome Cressida and express regret at not having thrown them the wedding of the Season.

Anne sniffled.

Wakefield looked at his sister. “I’m sorry, Anne. Katherine, I’m—”

A twinkle in the darker twin’s brown eyes stopped him mid-apology. He peered closely; first at Katherine, then Anne, and at last, Mother. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you putting all this on to make me feel guilty?”

The glitter in the three women’s eyes deepened.

“Is it working?” his mother asked sweetly.

Bloody hell.

The tension left him.

A moment later, just as he and Cressida took to their feet, they found themselves surrounded by the Adamson women, enfolded in warm hugs, and met with happy tears.

Then like a sudden, extremely violent, whirlwind, the jubilant celebration eased, and Katherine, Anne, and Dowager-Countess bustled from the room to begin preparations for a proper celebration, leaving Wakefield and Cressida alone.

He had her in his arms before the Adamson voices fully faded from the hall. “There,” he murmured, as she lay her head against his shoulder. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

Cressida snorted. “Not at all; rather like being trampled by the ton, in full evening dress.”

Wakefield chuckled. “God, I love you, Lady Wakefield.”

“And I love you, dear husband,” she murmured.

Lowering his head, Wakefield went to kiss his bride. Just as he made to brush his lips over hers, Cressida spoke.

“The women of your family are a clever lot,” she remarked.

“I assure you, love, the last thing I care to do right now is speak about my mother and sisters.”

Wakefield made another attempt to kiss her.

“Do you believe they’ll ascertain the reason we decided it was best not to wait on our nuptials?” Cressida murmured.

Her eyes sparkled with both mischief and the same joy that’d been there since he’d asked to marry her.

“I do suspect they may do some tabulations.” Wakefield ducked his head once more.

“Do you think—?”

“I know I’m going to kiss you, wife,” he breathed against her lips. “And never stop.

Twining her arms about his nape, Cressida stretched up on tiptoes so their mouths were level. “Do you promise, dear husband?”

Not only did Wakefield promise—he showed her.

The End