Page 9 of The Blind Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Mayfair, London

Though it was a Sunday, Allan thought it best to have the wedding on a day where everyone would be busy with their own families and less likely to be out and about, for his bride-to-be was quite skittish, as evidenced by her flight yesterday after that chaste kiss.

He turned his face to one of the windows in his drawing room as he thought about how he’d felt about kissing Annette.

It had been a pleasant experience, and those full lips of hers had been pillowy soft and warm, yet there had been no opportunity to savor it, for she’d bolted.

No matter. Their nuptial ceremony would take place in thirty minutes.

Since there wasn’t sunlight coming through the windows to hurt his eyes, he assumed the skies were overcast; when weren’t they in England?

But that was all to the good also. It felt almost peaceful.

As fabric rustled and the low murmur of voices told him that the small handful of guests filtered slowly into the room, he ignored them. His life would change quite soon, and he didn’t know if he was ready. Would he be able to do right by her? Would he be enough, sight notwithstanding?

“Not long to wait now, Masterson.”

“Indeed.” With a chest tight with worry and the unknown, he turned about at the sound of the Earl of Pennington’s voice. “To be honest, I am suffering from nerves.”

“Understandable, but I think this might be a good thing.”

When Pennington laid a hand on Allan’s shoulder, a modicum of calm went through him. “I told my bride-to-be nearly the same thing yesterday when I called on her, so I hope that will prove true.”

“If you work on it and compromise, it will. When I married my wife, there was an adjustment period, but when we found common ground, we began the fall into love.”

“Of course it’s all common sense, but she is frightened. Of what, I’m not quite certain, but eventually I will discover what.” He blew out a soft breath. “Damn this blindness. I would have liked to see her when she comes in.”

“I will do my best to describe her for you, but once you come to know each other, you shouldn’t need sight.” The earl squeezed his fingers on Allan’s shoulder. “Are you taking her on a wedding trip?”

“Not immediately.”

Pennington blew out a breath. “That’s hardly romantic.”

“When the weather warms this summer, and if all goes well between us, perhaps then we will take a trip. I don’t know Annette well enough to understand where she might enjoy visiting.”

“Fair enough. You’re a good man, Allan,” the earl said in a soft voice. “And you are not alone. Your friends, those of us who have already been victimized by Mrs. Dove-Lyon, will support you and help you through until you find your footing.”

“I appreciate that. I fear I’ll be largely in a state of confusion at the first.”

“Yes, well, it happens to the best of us. Ashbury, Captain Huxley, and a few more of our friends have just arrived.”

“I’m glad they are here. Did the married ones bring their wives?”

“They did.”

“You came with Adriana?”

“No. She wasn’t feeling quite the thing this morning, but she sends her good wishes and promises to pay you a visit at some point during the week.” Before Allan could respond, Pennington gave a soft chuckle. “It seems your bride has arrived.”

“Oh? Is she beautiful?” From what he’d discovered of her from his fingertip exploration yesterday, she had classic looks.

“That is subjective, of course, but only you can say.” Pennington patted his shoulder. “However, I shall do my best in describing her.”

“Thank you.” Yet his muscles tensed as he waited, even more so as murmurs went through the guests in the room.

“Quite frankly, Mrs. Jennings is radiant even if she appears as if she’ll cast up her accounts at any second.

” The earl chuckled again. “She’s in a gown of a bright-raspberry hue.

There is a sheen to the fabric, so I assume it’s some sort of silk.

Shows her curves and décolletage to advantage.

There is a diaphanous garment much like a short-sleeved robe tied at the waist in silver with a handful of tiny silver spangles sewn on. ”

Allan nodded. “How is she wearing her hair?”

“Dark brown, and is in a pleasing upswept style. Lots of curls and tendrils with silver ribbon woven throughout.” There was a grin evident in the earl’s voice.

“A thin tiara sits atop her head, not obnoxious, but sweet. A thin, long, trailing veil is attached with the shorter side down to cover her face.” He guided Allan to the side between the windows, or so it felt.

“She’ll prove a challenge, but she’s a lovely blend of innocence and experience and mystery. ”

“Life won’t be dull.”

“You are a fortunate man.”

“That is also a matter of perspective.” Yet he was oddly looking forward to having someone else beneath his roof that he could share conversations with, perhaps dare to be unapologetically open with. “I only hope Romeo doesn’t take exception to her.”

Pennington snorted. “Your cat will be fine.” He patted Allan’s shoulder. “She approaches with her parents, so I am going to select a seat. Ask her to describe everything to you; I rather doubt she’s a monster, so she will help.”

“Thank you, Montague. I appreciate everything you’ve done.” It was the truth. Without his friends, the past twenty years would have been harrowing.

“Rather damp morning for a wedding, isn’t it, Your Grace?”

Allan frowned as he turned toward the weak sound of the viscount’s voice. In the back of his mind, he remembered Annette saying that the man was dying. “Since it rains more days than not in England, this is rather expected. Welcome to my home, Danvers. I hope you find this morning easy.”

“Thank you. However, you disrespect my wife by not greeting her as well,” the viscount said, with annoyance in his tone.

After blowing out a breath, Allan narrowed his eyes. “Since I cannot see her and you didn’t announce her presence, how would that have been possible?” There was only so much grace he could give a person.

“Papa, why don’t you go sit down? You’re not strong enough to antagonize the duke,” Annette said in a whisper.

The faint whiff of pears and vanilla wafted to his nose as she came close to him.

Then she laid a hand on Allan’s arm. “I apologize for my father. He still believes he is indestructible. During the ceremony, I will make certain you know what is happening.”

“Thank you.”

“My mother is to my father’s right, by the by.”

He turned his head in that direction. “Good morning, Lady Danvers.”

Before either of her parents could respond, the rustle of fabric indicated the arrival of someone else.

“The Duke of Masterson?” a man inquired in a reedy, thin voice that had absolutely no further nuance than that.

“I am the duke.”

“Ah, lovely. I am Mr. Teeters, the minister who will oversee your nuptial ceremony.”

When Allan leaned his head toward his bride-to-be, she whispered, “He’s a tall, thin man with a ring of gray hair around a small bald spot, and he’s wearing a black suit.

There is also a much younger man with him, no doubt a clerk or underling.

” She paused as another man whispered to her.

“His name is Mr. Brown, and will oversee the signing of the register.”

Mr. Teeters huffed. “Is there something amiss?”

“Of course not.” Faint annoyance echoed in Allan’s voice. “Unless you consider my being blind an issue?”

One of the female guests in the room gasped. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought it was the captain’s wife.

The minister sputtered and finally said, “I apologize, Your Grace. I wasn’t informed.” He cleared his throat. “I assume this is your bride?”

Perhaps he was being uncharitable, but this man rubbed him the wrong way. Not a good sign to begin his nuptial ceremony. “Why don’t you ask her, since she is not as dull as an unlit candlestick.”

At his side, Annette softly snorted with amusement. “I am Mrs. Jennings, and yes, I will be marrying the duke. No doubt we should accomplish this more sooner than later.” Then she briefly left his side. “Mama, Papa, you should find chairs. I shall be fine.”

Of course her mother would argue. “Dear, you look ready to bolt. Should I stand at the door to prevent that?”

“That won’t be necessary. I might be terrified, but I won’t embarrass either of you.” When she returned to Allan’s side, his annoyance for their treatment of her had risen. In a low voice, she added, “I will try not to embarrass you as well.”

He huffed. “You needn’t apologize for feeling broken. It is not a crime to not have a perfect life.”

The minister cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes, please,” he responded, and the light touch of Annette’s fingers on his sleeve kept him a bit grounded.

“Very well.” Mr. Teeters raised his voice. “The nuptial couple is ready to begin.” As guests settled into sofas and chairs around the room, he leaned his head toward his bride. “What is happening?”

She squeezed her fingers on his arm. “The minister is looking at us both,” she whispered. “He has a copy of the Book of Common Prayer open in one hand.”

“Your Grace, Mrs. Jennings, please face me.” When they did, the sound of pages rustling reached Allan’s ears.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church… ”

Despite his best intentions, Allan’s attention wandered.

Never did he think that he would ever recite vows to a woman, and especially not one whom he didn’t know.

And now that he was, in fact, marrying, it was to a widow who was apparently afraid of her own shadow.

How she managed to stand here beside him, he had no idea, but he was in awe of her determination.