“Lady Brianna Dougall and Miss Deidre McDowell,” the footman announced at the door. “Miss Emilia McDowell,” the servant added after studying a card. A hasty consultation concluded with, “And Lady Daphne McDowell.”
“Aunt Daphne!” Aster cried, still clutching her father’s hand but turning to smile toward the new arrivals. “How lovely of you to come! I so much wanted family to be here.”
“What are they doing now?” Duncan grumbled in Theo’s ear.
“Aunt Daphne is a dauntingly tall lady with a huge bosom draped in scarves,” Theo whispered. “Even the earl looks cowed. And the vicar is hovering behind them. Announce that we’re repairing to the drawing room, and we’ll enthrone you by the fire. I think Aster chose the King George chair for just that purpose.”
His bride had arranged it so that Duncan’s raw scar would be turned to the fireplace, and the wings on the massive chair would protect him from three-quarters of the room, so people would have to stand directly in front of him to speak. Aster had a way of tending to details.
Duncan snorted in appreciation of her efforts. Theo was so relieved that his brother wasn’t throwing tantrums that he would have blessed Aster on the spot had he been a bishop.
“Let’s not linger in the foyer like dolts,” Duncan drawled, gesturing toward the drawing room. “Lady Azenor, place us where you will. This is your day.”
“It’s a shame you can’t see the dazzling smile of approval my bride is casting in your direction,” Theo murmured for his brother’s ears only. “Or maybe it’s not, because that means you won’t try to steal her from me.”
“Do I hear cats?” Duncan muttered in return.
Ashford’s hearing had evidently improved with blindness. Theo cast a hasty look for the culprits. “I believe the lady’s servants have arrived with trunks and . . . cats,” he confirmed with resignation, noting baskets on the arms of several of the maids.
Dogs and cats—no wonder her charts were covered in disaster. Theo cast prayers to heaven and was grateful the fire wasn’t lit.
Still clinging to her father’s hand, Aster took Duncan’s other arm as they entered the newly refurbished drawing room. “This couldn’t be a more perfect wedding day if I’d planned it. I am so happy you came down in time, Papa. You must tell me how you met up with Bree and Dee.”
She cast a glance over her shoulder. “And Vicar Matthews! You look dashing today. I told Cook to make certain he fixed those scones you like. You should have brought your wife.”
The vicar had a wife? And liked scones? Theo cast his amazing bride a look of disbelief. He wanted to ask her how she learned these things, but he was afraid she’d say she’d read it in the stars.
If she hadn’t been on the other side of Duncan, he’d lean over and ask her if their wedding day was fated for disaster—because he was having a damned hard time believing he could keep a goddess.
Twenty-six
Uneasily aware that she was playing the part of the general that Theo called her, Aster saw Duncan seated in the large chair by the hearth. Even with the raw scar, the marquess looked impressively aristocratic and confident. It was hard to tell that he couldn’t see anything. Even Emilia was casting him looks of interest, which was astonishing in itself.
Her father was not so easily disposed of. The earl was accustomed to thundering through classrooms of cowed students or around a stone castle that absorbed his roars. A polite, nearly bare, drawing room filled with women and Ives . . . She took a deep breath to calm herself and glanced at Theo for reassurance.
He winked. Giddiness bubbled up inside her at the intimacy of the communication, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or to smack him. He solved the problem by turning to her father and gesturing at a far corner of the enormous room. “My lord, perhaps we should step aside while I assure you that I can support your daughter in the style to which she’s accustomed?”
“She doesn’t need a jackanapes like you for that!” the earl roared, but he stalked off in the direction indicated.
Wishing she could simply run upstairs and cuddle her pets, instead, Aster hurried to thank the vicar for coming. She directed him toward Ashford so the marquess wouldn’t feel abandoned. That Duncan had actually emerged from hiding to be displayed in public for Theo’s sake was a wedding gift beyond anything she’d ever dreamed. She had to show him her gratitude.
She left the other Ives brothers to sort themselves out while she ran to her family, flinging her arms around her stiff and proper aunt and kissing her on her cheek. “Thank you, thank you for coming! I so wanted family with me but given my disastrous planets, I was terrified to ask.”
“If these young sprouts could visit without coming to harm, I saw no reason why I shouldn’t,” Daphne said imperiously, apparently knowing nothing of the carriage accident. “Your mother would never forgive me for not seeing that you’re marrying safely. Besides, there are a few additions to the wedding ceremony of which you might not be aware. This is as good a time as any to teach the next generation.” She looked pointedly at her daughters.
“Additions?” Aster asked weakly, noticing for the first time that her aunt had directed a maid to carry in a valise.
“As librarian, you should know this,” Daphne scolded. “Did you think you could marry without me? The ceremony is in all our journals.”
“Oh, dear, not the druid ritual? Surely we’re beyond that sort of primitive superstition in these days of enlightenment.” Aster grimaced as her aunt gestured for the bag and opened it, drawing out a rowan ring.
“Do you think keeping your genealogy charts and journals is superstition?” Daphne asked indignantly.
“Of course not,” Aster said. “They contain valuable information. I’m not certain rituals are valuable.”
“Do you wish your marriage to be a success?” Daphne demanded tartly, as if that settled the matter.
Bree and Dee dug into the valise, producing short capes, another rowan ring, and green candles molded and scented to look and smell like evergreens.
“The candles are pretty,” Bree said with a decided lack of enthusiasm. “Shall we set them on the mantel? Light them? Duel with them?”
“It’s enough to set them about, I think.” Daphne gestured at tables. “It might be dangerous to light them with so many people in the room.”
“Thank all that is holy,” Aster said fervently. “My disastrous planets have not gone away with a change in location. I’d rather not burn down the Hall before I’m wedded.”
“And bedded,” Emilia said with a laugh. “Your groom cannot take his eyes off you, even when your father is roaring like a wounded lion.”
Aster turned to see if Theo needed rescuing. He didn’t even seem to be listening to her father’s diatribe. He was watching her with a hint of worry. Tall, lean, elegantly garbed in black and white—although the wayward hank of golden-brown still fell on his brow—her scientist was all a woman could dream of.
She smiled reassuringly, and he took a step toward her. Her father grabbed his arm and dragged him back. Given the level of male posturing she’d seen in this household, she had every reason to be confident that Theo could handle the earl.
She took a steadying breath with that realization. She really didn’t doubt Theo. She doubted herself. Yes, she was angry that he couldn’t accept her charts. But what man would? She simply needed to convince him. Somehow.
“Did my father wear a rowan ring when he married my mother?” Aster asked as her aunt shook out a black cape.
“Of course he did. He is a Malcolm, after all. If your bridegroom wishes to marry a Malcolm woman, he must show his acceptance of our ways. We are not women to be bullied by society or limited by perceptions.” Daphne placed the rowan ring over the elaborate curls so precariously pinned into Aster’s hair.
“All Malcolm men wear capes?” Dee asked with curiosity. “Will our brother have to wear twigs in his hair? His bride might take exception.”
“Kenan will have to make his own
decision on that,” Daphne said grandly. “Malcolm men do not happen often, so there is no tradition. The rowan is a vital tool of our magic, but men do not need to display their power as much as women do.”
Bree and Dee grinned at the word magic, and Aster sympathized, but she was too nervous to argue. She’d read the journals. She knew their history better than the girls. Magic merely covered the inexplicable, not necessarily the scientifically impossible. Her planets existed. Her accurate predictions, however, defied known science.
Rowan, on the other hand, was symbolic of their ancient heritage only useful for cowing the ignorant as far as she had determined. If she intended to start as she meant to go on, wearing twigs in her hair would certainly make a statement of sorts. She just feared it was “the bride is weird” and not “the bride is powerful.”
Hugh, sporting a large goose egg over his black-and-blue eye, ran up and waited for acknowledgment. Fearing he brought news of potential disaster, Aster introduced him to her family.
“That is three of you with bruised brows,” her aunt said in puzzlement. “Are fisticuffs common in this household?”
“No, we simply attract trouble,” Aster said as cheerfully as she could manage. “Did you have a question, Hugh?”
“The maids would like to watch the service, my lady. They ask if they can bring down the little ones if they’re ever so quiet and stand outside the door. And Uncle Pascoe sent word that he’ll be here shortly. Papa said we should wait for him.”
Oh dear, she’d all but forgotten the little ones in the nursery. She would be a shameful mother. But if she meant to include family—no matter how huge a circle that meant—then she should start now.
“Of course they may attend. Why don’t you let them know as soon as Mr. Ives arrives? Are the villagers being looked after outside?”
“It’s starting to sprinkle, so Mr. Browne has opened the stable. They’re setting up tables there,” Hugh said cheerfully. “Cook has covered the kitchen with food. I stole a cake.”
“Why don’t you run down and have them put together trays we can circulate among the guests in here while we’re waiting? I’m not sure anyone properly broke their fast this morning.” Except the twins, who never went without food, ever, Aster had learned.
“Pascoe Ives will attend?” her aunt asked with interest as Hugh ran off. “He’s well known in political circles and could be very useful in our push for the child labor law.”
“I don’t know him well, but he has two small children, and he can’t keep a nursemaid. So if you know anyone suitable, he would be most appreciative. And since we seem to have time,” Aster said with a sigh and a wistful glance toward Theo, “you should come speak with the marquess. He is very proud and does not want anyone to notice his affliction. I would appreciate it if one of you would explain what’s happening to him as we go on.”
As she led her aunt toward Duncan, Theo broke away from her father to join them, leaving the earl to decide whether or not to follow. Aster smothered a grin. Her bookish bridegroom wasn’t in the least concerned that he’d just dumbfounded her father, who wasn’t accustomed to people turning their back on him.
“Now we will see if you are up to dealing with my family without running away to Wystan,” Aster murmured as Theo grabbed her hand.
He eyed the twigs in her hair with interest. “So far, I’m more intrigued than intimidated.”
“Father did not nail you to the wall and torment you?” She wished she could have been a fly on that wall, but she understood men had to pretend they were in charge by having manly discussions.
“He is rightfully anxious about you. You and I know that I’m a prince among men.” He flashed her one of those boyish grins that made Aster’s insides flip with happiness. “But he needs it proved. I reminded him that his daughter is the most astute of women and a perceptive reader of the zodiac and would never join hands with a renegade. That oddly seemed to reassure him.”
His cheerful confidence melted her just a little more. Aster wished the crowd away and wondered if she could persuade them that if Pascoe wanted to be present, he should have been here by now.
“We cannot repair to our chamber until the guests are gone anyway,” Theo whispered, as if he’d heard her thoughts.
“Could we invite them all to visit your telescopes and push them off the roof?” she suggested. “That should be sufficient disaster to prove my prediction.”
Instead of replying, he chuckled and took up the role of presenting everyone to Duncan. Her groom was learning proper manners quickly, if only in self-defense, to prevent their families from insulting or maiming each other before they were introduced.
Duncan pried himself out of the chair to be presented to the ladies, but Aster knew her family didn’t stand on formality and intervened on his part. “As you know, the marquess is still recuperating from his accident and must rest his leg. My lord, please do not continue standing and undo all the doctor’s good work. Where is Dr. Joseph anyway? I invited him.”
“He has a patient in trouble and will be along later,” Lord Erran offered curtly, wandering up to add to the crowd as Duncan gratefully sat down. The marquess seemed to be locating voices well, but he was still tense.
Of all the Ives, Lord Erran was the most taciturn and the most fashionably attired—which seemed at odds with his powerful boxer’s build. Aster wished she’d had time to study her charts to see if her sister or Emilia would suit him, but that would have to wait until she was married. Although she had a notion her quiet, studious life of studying charts was about to end. She was starting to understand some of Theo’s frustration.
She couldn’t believe she was actually marrying the brilliant man she’d met little more than a month ago! Theo’s charts had shown the part of murder followed by marriage. Her charts had given her no such warning. Although, she realized with a sigh, she hadn’t been looking for marriage in her stars.
Or perhaps marriage was the danger in her family sector, and she’d overlooked that angle.
Fortunately, the servants arrived with trays of food and tea, and the crowd around Ashford began to part.
“Emilia is looking for a husband,” Aster whispered in Lord Erran’s ear as he shifted to grab a small sandwich. “She has a very large inheritance.”
Looking mildly interested, he turned to find her tall cousin, now speaking with Aster’s father.
“Brianna knows Mrs. Siddons,” she murmured to Jacques a little later while pouring a cup of tea. His eyes widened, and he carried a plate of delicacies in the direction of her younger sister.
As his brothers and her family began to drift off in different directions, Theo hugged her. “Now do we get an explanation of the twiggy hair?”
Apparently smelling the sweets, Duncan declined the tray a footman waved beneath his nose. “Malcolm idiocy,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ve heard about their ceremonies. They like to pretend they’re bewitching you.”
Aster filled a small plate with delicacies and broke off a bite-sized piece of a lemon bar. She popped it into Duncan’s mouth before he finished his sentence. He glared but chewed.
“I like that solution,” Theo said, helping himself to the other piece of the bar. “Every time he says something unpleasant, I shove food in his mouth.”
“Large family, old trick,” Aster said with a dismissive wave. “Aunt Daphne, you may explain to the marquess what we will be doing. If Mr. Ives does not arrive before everyone is finished eating, then I suggest we not take up more of the vicar’s valuable time and proceed with the ceremony.”
“Or we’ll have a stable full of drunken villagers who will begin burning down the Hall,” Theo added helpfully. “I’m fairly certain the kegs will have been breached by now. Whose idea was it to invite the village?”
“Mine,” the earl thundered, coming up behind them to grasp a fistful of the sweets. “Marriages should be celebrated by the entire community. If you’re not to do it proper in the kirk, then you must bring
the congregation here. I’ll not have my daughter married off in a ramshackle manner.”
Aster sighed and squeezed Theo’s hand. She should have guessed. Theo pressed a kiss to her brow to show his lack of concern for her father’s arrogance. Her groom smelled of sandalwood and lemon and she almost licked him.
Duncan held out his hand for more lemon bar. “Then let us hurry and finish the food and get this over with before the village is staggering drunk. Are you wearing a frilly cape yet, Theo?”
“Cape?” he asked warily.
Daphne signaled for the valise. “You are all descendants of Malcolms, however far removed, and fully entitled to the appropriate symbols. I have brought black for Lord Theophilus in honor of your heritage.” Aster’s aunt brought out a waist-length cloak of the sort a medieval knight might have worn.
“I hope you brought brooches,” Aster said, reaching for a sandwich to settle her nervous stomach. “I had to search the house up and down for sufficient pins for my attire and have nothing left to pin a cape.”
Daphne held up matching gold circle pins. Aster sighed and allowed her lovely silk bodice to be covered by a white silk cloak pinned by a gold brooch. At least it didn’t entirely conceal what her low-cut neckline revealed and that Theo had been admiring.
Her bridegroom frowned warily at the rowan circlet but obediently stooped so her aunt could place it on his thick hair. It immediately slid to one side, and he had to catch it.
“Theo’s head is too big for the rowan,” Aster told Duncan, who couldn’t see the silliness but listened appreciatively.
“Perhaps we can pin a brooch to his head,” the marquess said dryly.
“Very helpful, big brother. I shall remember that when the time comes. Aster, make certain he marries another Malcolm,” Theo ordered, submitting to the rather dramatic black cape that worked well draped over one shoulder of his black and white attire.
“Yes, master,” she acquiesced with a mock curtsy—which drew his appreciative eye to the little cleavage she now revealed. “Do you think we could break out the sherry yet? I’m not certain I can tolerate the suspense much longer. What if your uncle is leading a band of wild savages or has crashed his horse over a bluff or wild lions have leapt out upon him? How long must we wait?”
Magic in the Stars Page 23
