For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. “I’ve been in love,” he said slowly. “It’s not a very comfortable place to be. I think I can assure you it’s not likely to be a problem.”
He hadn’t said anything about affairs, she noticed. “And... loyalty?”
His voice was deeper than usual, without a trace of humor. “I swear to you that this promise comes first, Wendy, and it always will.”
It sounded like a vow – more binding, and certainly more sincere, than the promise he would make in public to love her and cherish her, till death parted them. But then, this promise was really to Rory – as hers was, too.
“Well?” he said. “Will you marry me?”
She nodded, not quite willing to trust her voice. “When?”
“As soon as possible. I’ll check on the details tomorrow – but I think it can be arranged by the middle of next week.”
She couldn’t argue with that, exactly. “The sooner we can establish a normal pattern for Rory…”
Mack finished the thought for her. “The less spoiled she’ll be.” He smiled a little. “And the less likely we are to get unsolicited advice from the rest of the family. I’ll tell them at dinner, if you don’t object.”
She shook her head. Despite the warmth of the room, she was shivering a little, now that it was too late to back out.
Mack leaned forward and cupped her cheek in his hand. The touch of his palm made her want to nestle her face into his soothing warmth. She could pick out the tang of his cologne, mixed with the aroma of warm skin and Rory’s baby lotion.
For an instant, she thought he intended to kiss her. Instead, he brushed his thumb over her lips, and whispered, “It’ll be all right, Wendy. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Elinor received the news with delight and promptly began making noises about church weddings and country club receptions and dance bands and invitation lists.
Mack, who obviously saw the color starting to drain from Wendy’s face as she contemplated the idea, reached for her hand and suggested a very small family wedding instead, to be held at the Burgess house. Wendy clutched his fingers in gratitude and agreed. Privately, she would have preferred a civil ceremony in a judge’s chambers with two complete strangers as witnesses – but of course that was hardly realistic.
Tessa, mourning the fact that she had nothing in her current collection of designs which could possibly be considered appropriate for a tiny and elegant wedding – and no time to create something – took Wendy on a whirlwind tour of the city’s most exclusive boutiques in search of a special suit.
“I’m so glad it all worked out this way,” she confided over hot chocolate at mid-afternoon as they took a break from their search. “I’ll be the first to say Rory’s a doll – which must be your influence, considering what Marissa was like – but I’m simply not in the mood to settle down to kids just yet. And probably not ever,” she added after a moment’s thought. “Frankly, the fear that Elinor might expect me to volunteer to be Rory’s mama was turning my hair gray. And the idea of being compared to you with every move I made…”
“Surely no one would criticize you.”
“Oh, not openly. Mack doesn’t have to say a word, you know just looking at him when he disapproves. And don’t give me that confused stare,” Tessa said dryly. “Of course you haven’t noticed it, because he is so obviously enchanted by most of what you do!”
Wendy blinked in surprise, before she remembered that Tessa didn’t know about some of their early discussions, like the night in Phoenix when Mack had caught her lying about her job. If Tessa knew about episodes like that, she wouldn’t think Mack was blinded by Wendy’s charm.
Wendy had to admit, however, that he was being very kind about the whole thing. Of course the family knew the real reasons behind this sudden wedding, but a stranger who came into the house would have no reason to doubt that they had all the usual motives. If their behavior wasn’t exactly romantic – well, it was easy to believe that they were simply restraining themselves in public. And Mack was unfailingly polite and correct.
How cold that sounded, she thought, but he wasn’t cold at all. He was gentle and always considerate of her feelings, her wishes – and though he didn’t follow her around or hang on her every word like a moonstruck teenager, he always appeared to find her interesting and attractive. And though it would have been easy to present himself as a hero, he had never implied to Wendy that she owed him a debt of gratitude for making it possible for her to stay with Rory.
Mack was very special, there was no doubt about that. Sometimes when she caught sight of him unexpectedly her throat closed up in amazement at how it had all worked out.
Tessa had gone straight on without waiting for an answer. “The way that baby lights up when you walk into the room...” She shook her head. “Of course it’s no wonder Mack approves of that. I could never have lived up to your example.” She checked the dainty watch on her wrist and drained her cup. “One more boutique, and then we’d better make a decision so we can start looking for shoes. Oh, and we mustn’t forget to pick up your ring. The jeweler should have it sized and cleaned by now.”
Her ring... It was Elinor’s ring, actually. She had called Mack and Wendy to her sitting room on Christmas afternoon, and given her own engagement and wedding rings to Mack for his bride.
Wendy caught one glimpse of the glitter of diamonds and gold in Elinor’s palm, and tried to turn down the gift. But Elinor insisted. “The rings won’t be to your taste, of course,” she said calmly. “You’ll want to have them reset. But the stones are good, and it would give me great pleasure to watch you wear them, Wendy.”
And what could Wendy say after that? Only the truth – which was that the rings were lovely just as they were, and she wouldn’t dream of tearing them apart.
They went to the jewelers first. As they waited in a small paneled office, beside a velvet-topped table, Wendy watched Tessa from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t help but wonder what Tessa thought of this gift. Her voice had sounded perfectly natural, without a hint of resentment, and yet...
“Do you mind, Tessa? The rings, I mean. After all, you were the first bride, and they should have been yours.”
“Mind? Heavens no. I wouldn’t have wanted them – I don’t have the hands to carry off truly magnificent rocks like those, and the settings aren’t my style at all.” She waved her left hand, with its cluster of dainty stones, as if in explanation. “Besides, things like that should go to the eldest son and be passed on.”
Wendy hadn’t thought of that before. They’ll go to Rory, of course, she thought. Or perhaps it would be better to pass the rings on to Elinor’s oldest grandson, whether he was John’s son, or Mitch’s.
The jeweler bustled in with a velvet case in his hand, took a chair behind the tiny table, and opened the box with a flourish. “I hope you’ll be pleased with the results, Miss Miller.” There was no trace of doubt in his voice, and Wendy quickly saw why he was certain of himself.
Wendy was no authority on jewels, but she had known at first glimpse that Elinor was understating the quality of the stones. They weren’t merely good, they were superb, and the setting was equally inspired. Still, the sheer brilliance and power of the newly-cleaned ring startled her. She reached for the box, and turned it slowly from side to side.
At the center of the ring, set at an unusual angle, was a marquise diamond, a couple of carats in size and absolutely colorless – except now, when it caught the powerful display lights and exploded into a rainbow of fire. On each side of the center stone was a cluster of baguettes, nestled into a wide gold band.
“Go on,” Tessa said. “Let’s see it on your finger.”
Reluctantly, Wendy took the ring from the velvet box and slid it cautiously into place. It settled at the base of her finger as though it belonged there, and she held up her hand and turned it under the lights. Her voice was a little husky. “And the wedding ring? Is it ready?”
The jeweler shook his head. “A minor problem, I’m afraid. One of the prongs has cracked, and it will be tomorrow before we’ll have it repaired. I hope it will not be a serious inconvenience?”
Tessa grinned. “Not at all,” she said cheerfully. “The wedding’s not till the day after tomorrow. Though unless we find you a suit, Wendy...” She rose, with a casual farewell wave for the jeweler.
“I already have a perfectly good suit,” Wendy reminded.
“And it’s lovely, but you must want something new for your wedding. Why won’t you wear white? Or ivory, at least?”
“I told you once, I look awful in pale colors.”
Tessa studied Wendy’s face. “There’s a shade of ivory for every woman, you know. But if you insist on being stubborn, we’ll look for something deep and rich and sultry.”
Wendy didn’t argue. She was just happy that Tessa had accepted her excuse instead of digging further, for the real reason ran much deeper than her dislike for pastels, and she was absolutely certain that she didn’t want to share her opinion with Tessa or anyone else.
A bride in white was a creature full of sentimental hopes and dreams of a future filled with love. White dresses belonged to romantic unions, not to legal partnerships. So did cathedral trains and lace-trimmed veils, and therefore – even though no one could deny Wendy’s right to all of those things – she chose not to take part in the masquerade.
But if she tried to explain that to Tessa, she was apt to sound as if she felt sorry for herself. Poor Wendy, robbed of a chance for love... No, it was much better to keep her philosophy to herself.
“Besides,” she said, “where would I wear an ivory suit afterward? I wouldn’t dare put it on if Rory was around. She’d spit up on me.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “I suspect, if you play your cards right, Mack will take you out to dinner once a year or so without Rory,” she said dryly. “Honestly, Wendy, has it never occurred to you that if he wanted a nursery maid, he’d hire one?” She stopped dead, clasped one hand around Wendy’s arm, and pointed at a display window. “There, my girl, is your wedding suit. Behold!”
*****
Tessa was right, the suit was perfect. The deep, rich teal brought out the red highlights in Wendy’s hair and did wonderful things for the creamy tint of her skin. However, the jacket was more tightly fitted than those of her other suits, and the skirt was a little shorter. She hesitated over that until she remembered that she needn’t be so careful to stick to classics any more. It didn’t matter whether this suit stayed in style for more than a season.
And the way she felt when she saw herself in the mirror on her wedding day confirmed her judgment. Not that it took away the nervousness; nothing could do that, but it was comforting to know that she was looking her best. At least on the outside, she looked as if she belonged to the Burgess clan.
It was evening, and darkness had already fallen when Tessa knocked perfunctorily on the door of Wendy’s room and came in. “Mack’s here,” she said. “He brought you orchids.” She set a big octagonal box down on the window seat.
Wendy looked at it with foreboding. “How many orchids?”
“Three, I think. Oh, if you mean this box, don’t panic. This is from me. I know what you said about veils, but this is such a little one that I thought perhaps you’d relent.” The creation she lifted out of the box was teal, the precise shade of Wendy’s suit, and no one with any imagination would have called it a mere hat. A slash of fabric swooped high on one side and low on the other, balanced by a fall of delicate lace. “If you hate it, don’t worry. I’ll pretend I never thought of it.”
“It’s wonderful,” Wendy said.
“Well, I thought it was, but then it’s the only hat I’ve ever done.” Tessa pinned the hat in place and stood back to admire the result. “You’ve certainly inspired me to go in new directions, Wendy. Hats, baby clothes...”
The maid came out of Wendy’s bedroom. “Everything’s packed, miss,” she said.
“Packed?” Tessa repeated. “Are you having a honeymoon after all?”
“No.” Wendy was too aware of the maid, still within hearing range, to go into detail.
“Do you mean Mack is taking you back to that boxy little apartment of his? Though I suppose it might be sort of cozy.” She pinned Wendy’s orchids in place. “We’d better go down. Mack’s probably pacing the floor by now, even though he’s the one who was late. Considering it’s his own wedding, it seems to me he could have left work a little earlier than usual.”
Mack was not pacing; Wendy hadn’t expected that he would be. He was standing by the mantel holding Rory and talking to the pastor, and when Wendy came in he looked up and smiled and held out his arm to draw her into the circle. She had grown so used to seeing him in casual clothes in the past few days that his charcoal business suit almost took her by surprise.
She cupped her hand over the waxy orchid blossoms at her shoulder. “Thank you, Mack,” she whispered, and he smiled down at her.
The baby reached out to Wendy, but Tessa stepped in and took her instead, much to Rory’s displeasure.
Mack kept his arm around Wendy through the brief ceremony. His touch was protective, not possessive, and she was glad of his support. Her knees were feeling a bit shaky all of a sudden, and when it came time for the vows, her throat was so constricted she wasn’t certain she could speak.
Mack’s voice was as deep and beautiful as ever as he repeated the age-old words, but just as Wendy’s turn came, Rory burst into heart-breaking sobs, accompanied by a flood of tears. Tessa tried her best, but it was quickly apparent that Rory didn’t intend to be consoled.
“You see?” Tessa muttered. “I told you I was hopeless at handling kids.”
Wendy looked over her shoulder. “Perhaps she senses that something important is going on.”
“Which leaves you with a choice,” Mack murmured. “Would you rather hold the baby or put up with the racket?”
“We could send her upstairs.”
“You don’t want to do that, do you?”
“No.” She reached for Rory, who clung to her for a moment and then looked around with an angelic – if damp – grin as if telling them to proceed, now that she was in her proper position right in the center of things.
And so when Wendy repeated her vows, there was no tremor in her voice, no doubts in her heart. When she shifted Rory in her arms so Mack could slip her wedding ring in place, the baby reached eagerly for the sparkling gems. And during the final blessing, she discovered that patting Wendy’s veil made it swing delightfully. The pastor’s eyes were twinkling by then. “May this new family be forever as close as they are today,” he said. “I now pronounce you husband and wife...”
Rory cooed.
“And – of course – daughter,” he finished. “This is a first for me, Mack, but if you’d like me to hold the baby while you kiss the bride, I’d be happy to help out.”
“Good idea,” Mack said. He untangled Rory’s fingers from Wendy’s veil and handed the baby to the pastor as casually as if she’d been a bouquet.
When Wendy raised her face to Mack, she was laughing at the way Rory’s eyes had widened in offended astonishment. But the dark intensity in Mack’s expression startled her into soberness. He slipped one arm around her shoulders, and his other hand came to rest very gently beneath her chin.
His kiss was firm, but almost tender – a far cry from the ceremonial brush of the lips she had expected. It lasted only a few moments, but that brief span of time seemed to stretch out forever as a sensation of warmth crept cell by cell through her body, moving as inevitably as water soaking each fiber of a thirsty towel. Even after Mack raised his head, he stood for a second with his hands on her shoulders, and she stared at him, too stunned to move, every cell of her body trembling.
Someone started to applaud, and even Rory got the idea and began swinging her hands in a wild attempt at pat-a-cake. That broke the tension, and everyone was laughing as Pa
rker came in with a tray full of champagne glasses.
Tessa gave Wendy a hug. “Well, Mrs. Burgess,” she said, “welcome to a very exclusive club!”
Mrs. Burgess. The name felt strange to Wendy’s ears.
The wedding dinner passed in a blur, and before long it was time to go. One of the nurses brought Rory down. The baby was already fed and ready for bed, and the nurse’s eyes were damp. “It’s not easy to let her go,” she said. “Any time you need a break, miss... Oh, I’m sorry. Ma’am.”
“I’d take her up on it,” Mitch said. He was leaning back in his chair and contemplating the bubbles rising in his champagne glass. “Leave the baby and go have a honeymoon.”
“Mind your own business,” Mack suggested, “or people are apt to wonder if you’re contemplating a honeymoon of your own. Ready, Wendy?”
The car was quiet; the motion sent Rory to sleep in moments, and there seemed to be nothing to talk about. Wendy was uncomfortably aware that it was going to be a very long ride across Chicago if they didn’t find something to discuss. “It was a pretty ceremony,” she said finally. “Despite Rory’s intervention.”
“I think a poll taken of the audience would find a good percentage who believe we have a spoiled little girl.”
“It’s impossible to spoil a baby that age. She’s completely unaware of anything except her own needs.” Wendy wished she could see his face more clearly. Did Mack think Rory was spoiled?
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said finally.
She tried to pay attention to the streets. If she wasn’t going to be house-bound, she would have to learn her way around Chicago. She couldn’t depend on Mack to be available every time she wanted to go out.
But instead of cutting across to the expressway which would take them toward the heart of the city, the car was cruising along twisting side streets, full of large houses set well back on lawns still crusted by Christmas snow. In the dark, Wendy couldn’t even judge directions. At this rate, she thought, she’d never learn her way around.
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