“That was the most romantic thing I have ever seen or heard of,” Daisy said. “And I have been sneaking Miss Wickersham’s novels for years.”
“You must go to him,” Rosie said, clasping her friend’s arm. “Oh, Cynny. You are going to be so happy.”
The three of them rushed to leave the closet, but a burst of sunlight filled the small space as the door flew open. The light was then blocked out again by the formidable personage of Garland, hands on hips. “What are you three doing in here? I ought to have known you would be up to trouble. And on your wedding day too. Now, show me why all of you are in here of all places.”
Garland pushed them back into the confined space and it was too much for the weakened floor of the old manor house. With a crash, the four young women broke through the floor and landed in a heap in the middle of Miss Wickersham’s study. The three younger girls were tangled in each other. Somehow, Garland had fallen on a chair.
“Oh, Miss Wickersham, my apologies. I have broken the naughty chair.”
“Naughty chair?” the three men said at once.
Hyacinth broke free from the pile and rushed to Lord Grayson but pulled up short, suddenly shy, in front of him.
Behind them the commotion continued and she had to tear her eyes away from Lord Grayson to check on her friends. Miss Wickersham had gone to Garland’s aid, but the two gentlemen had taken a keen interest in Rosie and Daisy. Lord Kensington lifted Daisy from the floor, his hands spanning her slim waist and even Hyacinth could see his hold lingered just a moment too long on her friend’s body. For once, it appeared Daisy was speechless as she stared up into Lord Kensington’s face, a pink blush covering her cheeks.
The man who had accompanied Lord Grayson had gone to Rosie’s rescue, assisting her to stand and then leaning down in a most attentive manner, gazing into her face and whispering words of comfort. Rosie was clearly shaken up by the ordeal as the man brazenly poured a glass from Miss Wickersham’s special decanter and handed it to Rosie. She took a sip and smiled up at him.
“I am curious, miss, about the naughty chair. Can you tell me more about that?” And he took Rosie by the arm and escorted her from the room. He was a bold man, indeed.
Cynny turned her attention back to the man who had just thrown down a fortune for the privilege of marrying her. Her breath came out in shallow gasps and warmth spread throughout her body, particularly between her legs in that achy way she had come to associate with Lord Grayson.
“Were you spying on us, Miss Heathrow?” His dark gaze held her in place.
“Y-yes, Lord Grayson.”
The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Well, then, we shall see to your discipline once we are married.”
Chapter 8
Perhaps she was dreaming.
Cynny almost pinched herself, because she could scarce believe the events of the past few hours. In fact, she wondered if her heart would ever cease its frantic pounding in her chest, or if the nerves in her stomach would eventually calm enough to allow her to fully appreciate and enjoy her abrupt change in circumstances.
She cast a shy glance at Lord Grayson seated next to her in the carriage and felt herself flush hotly when his dark gaze collided with hers.
Her husband. He was her husband now, and her papa, too.
Through an incredible series of events, her day was turning out vastly different than she’d anticipated when she awoke this morning, after spending a night tossing and turning.
In a rather short period of time, she’d gone from thinking she was about to marry Lord Kensington, to fearing she was about to be arrested and jailed for her thievery of the pocket watch that had been intended as a wedding gift for Lord Kensington, no less...to finding herself suddenly married to the handsome Lord Grayson, owner of said pocket watch and a constant fixture in her thoughts ever since the day he’d approached her in the gardens.
Oh, heavens. Why had she stolen the watch? If she hadn’t done that, everything might be absolutely perfect on this day. Guilt and fear filled her heart suddenly, because she’d trespassed against her new husband, her new papa, and now she dreaded him finding out the truth.
What would happen if he learned she’d stolen from him? Would he still think her eyes were like the morning sky?
She felt faint with increasing worry. What if he regretted fighting for her and promptly returned her to Miss Wickersham? The very possibility left her heartbroken. And such a fall wouldn’t only affect Cynny. If she was found out, her grave blunder would forever tarnish the reputation of Talcott House as well. She made a mental note to stealthily place the pocket watch in a random part of his house at the first opportunity, where no doubt it would be found by happenstance and he would simply assume he’d misplaced it.
Yes, that’s just what she would do, and then all would be well and she could have her happily-ever-after with the intriguing Lord Grayson who’d shown up at Talcott House to oh so romantically fight for her hand in marriage. With a large sum of money and a pistol, no less.
She studied him, admiring how rugged he looked compared to the first time she’d met him in the gardens of Talcott House. His wavy shoulder length hair, dark blond with brown undertones, was swept back over his shoulders but wasn’t as neatly styled as the last time she’d seen him, as if he’d repeatedly run his hands through his disheveled locks in a fit of frustration. His jacket and trousers were a tad wrinkled, but she would not have noticed had he not been so finely dressed during their meeting in the gardens. His eyes were alert and his stature confident as ever, though she occasionally saw flashes of fatigue in his dark depths.
Well, she supposed his slight ruggedness was a result of his hurried, apparently last minute, trip to the country to try and prevent her wedding to Lord Kensington. Her insides fluttered at the thought of his hasty yet impassioned decision to claim her as his wife. He’d arrived at Talcott House with great urgency, his carriage barreling down the lane, having traveled from London during the late hours of the night.
The companion who’d come along with him, Lord Caldwell, was apparently returning to London this afternoon in the company of Lord Kensington, for which Cynny was grateful. Lord Caldwell’s presence would have made their post-wedding carriage ride all the more awkward, and perhaps the gun-toting man would be kind enough to make sure the lord to whom she was formerly betrothed wasn’t too upset over her decision to marry Lord Grayson.
Oh, please don’t let Lord Grayson find out about the watch, she prayed silently. Please let us fall in love and be happy forever and ever. Please let this marriage be the fresh start I’ve so desperately been seeking. I’ll be good and never steal again, I promise.
She glanced down at her hands and realized they were shaking in her lap, and she quickly folded them tightly together and hoped her new husband hadn’t noticed.
“You needn’t be afraid of me, Hyacinth,” Lord Grayson said, and his use of her given name rather than calling her Miss Heathrow, spoken in his deep masculine voice, made her insides flutter as a pulsating warmth affected her nether area. But she wasn’t Miss Heathrow anymore, she realized with a start. She was a lady now. Lady Grayson. She almost pinched herself again, for this twist of fate seemed too good to be true. She wondered if she would ever recover from the surprise of today.
She squirmed delicately in her seat, puzzling over the odd but not unpleasant sensations that were unfurling within her, then took a deep steadying breath before peering up at her Papa.