“I am,” he replied with a nod, sliding the ring on her finger before giving it a kiss.
Wrapping her free arm around Gabriel’s shoulder, she reached up and kissed him. “I love you,” she whispered.
Gabriel grinned, kissing her forehead. “I never thought I’d hear those words,” he whispered in return. Moving his lips to hers, he kissed her gently. “I love you, my lady,” he said, his lips still touching hers. “And I have another bauble for you, but I think I shall save it for later,” he murmured.
After a moment, he straightened and turned around to regard his mother. She still sat in the coach, beaming happily. “I cannot decide if I should have you shackled and thrown in the dungeon, or if I should hug and thank you,” Gabriel said, his expression not giving away if he was still upset with her.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Lady Trenton replied with a wave of a gloved hand. She turned her attention to Sarah. “There is no dungeon at Trenton Manor. But I will move into the dowager cottage if you demand it of me,” she offered, one eyebrow cocked mischievously.
Not yet ready to make demands of the dowager countess, Sarah shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous, my lady.” After a pause, she asked of Gabriel, “Didn’t you say there wasn’t a dowager cottage at Trenton Manor?”
Lady Trenton smiled as she watched her son and his fiancée. But her smile turned to a worried grin when Gabriel replied, “Not yet, there isn’t.” He shut the door to the coach and gave the driver a wave. “You need to go back to the inn for her lady’s maid,” he called up to the driver. The man on the seat gave him a nod of understanding.
As the coach pulled away, Gabriel pulled Sarah back into his arms, little Gabe between their shoulders. “Let’s get back to the inn,” he murmured softly. “We have a wedding to plan before we head to London.”
“London?” Sarah repeated, allowing Gabriel to lift her and Gabe back onto the Cleveland Bay. He followed, seating himself just behind Sarah. With one arm wrapped around her waist, Gabriel dug his heels into the bay and they were off, Jupiter running alongside.
“We have a ball to attend,” Gabriel replied. “For my sister’s come-out,” he added when Sarah turned her head to give him a questioning glance.
Sarah nodded, smiling when she realized she wouldn’t just be getting a husband by marrying Gabriel. She would also be gaining a sister. “A quick wedding, then,” she said with a grin.
Gabriel tightened his hold on her. “A quick one,” he agreed.
Chapter 38
Before the Ball
Alistair wasn’t quite sure why he expected to find the Mayfield household to be as quiet and sedate as he always did on the days he had dance lessons with Lady Julia. But on this day – the day of the Mayfield ball – he witnessed a scene of apparently organized chaos and heard worse as he made his way from the back door toward the ballroom.
”There you are,” the housekeeper said as she hooked her arm into his and led him down a different hallway. “A package came for you. From the tailor, I believe,” she added as she suddenly turned into the day parlor, unhooked her arm, and took her leave of the room.
Stunned by her quick departure, Alistair took a look around the room and found Edward Seward gazing out one of the front windows.
”Well, well, if it isn’t the groom,” Edward commented as he turned and regarded Alistair. He held a paper-wrapped parcel under one arm. “This is for you. If I were you, I would try them on immediately to be sure Hockholder hasn’t done something underhanded.”
“Seward,” Alistair stated, surprised to see his friend at Mayfield House. “I didn’t realize you were Hockholder’s delivery service,” he teased as he reached for the package.
“I volunteered, seeing as how I wanted to speak with you before tonight’s fête,” the tall man explained. “Seems the missus and Cunningham’s missus are both a bit concerned about your come-out.”
Alistair regarded Edward for a moment. “Oh?” he replied, a bit concerned himself. Tonight was the night he would prove he could be a gentleman in the eyes of the ton – and Lady Julia’s. But it would also be the night it could go very wrong if anyone recognized him prematurely.
“You have to tell Lady Julia. At least, according to Olivia and Anna,” Edward said. “And I’m of a mind to agree on this one.”
Shaking his head, Alistair gave the earl’s son a shrug. “You don’t think I can keep from being recognized?” he wondered, now not as convinced he could make it through the night without being recognized by someone. If he told Lady Julia now, though, what would her reaction be? She probably wasn’t even available to be told – if she was like any other chit on the day of a ball – of her own first ton ball – her bedchamber would be in as much chaos as the ballroom.
“Christ, Alistair. We knew who you were, and we hadn’t seen you in three years,” Edward countered, helping himself to a glass of claret from a sideboard.
Alistair sighed. “I rather doubt Lady Julia would agree to see me this late in the day,” he said, a bit of panic settling over him.
Edward punched him on the arm, a move Alistair would have expected from Michael Cunningham, given that man’s reputation at Gentleman’s Jackson’s boxing saloon.
“So … tell her tonight. Just before you go into the ballroom. That way she can’t make a scene,” Edward said with a hint of humor. “But if you do that, be prepared for the wrath of an angry woman,” he warned with a raised finger. He took a long sip from the wine glass and seemed to savor the claret before returning his attention to the groom.
“Why would she be angry?” Alistair asked, his brows furrowing. “She’ll probably be relieved. Last I heard, she was more nervous about me than she was about herself, and she’s the one making her come-out tonight.”
Edward cocked his head to one side. “You seemed rather concerned about her in every other way but what she’ll think of you when she finds out she’s been bamboozled.”
Shrugging, Alistair lowered himself into the nearest chair and allowed a sigh. “I am. I’ve watched her … blossom over the past few weeks. Damn girl’s gotten under my skin,” he whispered with a shake of his head.
Taking the settee adjacent to where Alistair sat, Edward leaned back and gave his friend a knowing look. “Fond of her, are you?” he whispered, his attention once again on the wine glass he held. At Alistair’s nod, Edward suddenly softened. “They do that, you know. When you’re not looking, they cast this spell over you, and suddenly you can’t think of anything but them. Can’t do anything without wondering what they would think of it. Can’t go anywhere unless you take them with you, because you’re convinced someone else will swoop in and take your place if you don’t.”
Alistair frowned as he listened to Edward, alarmed that the man was putting into words the very thoughts he’d been experiencing the past few days. “Is that what happened with your Anna?” he wondered. “How … how long ago?” he asked, thinking Edward and Anna must have met and married rather recently. They had only just returned from their wedding trip a few months ago.
Edward nodded. “When we were children. I’ve loved her my whole life,” he said proudly.
Rolling his eyes, Alistair leaned forward and thought about punching the fencer. “Damn you. You’re no help in this, you must know.”
Chuckling, Edward leaned forward as well. “I have other news,” he said quietly. “The ladies were at the Clarendon Hotel for luncheon today. They met the new Countess of Trenton.”
Alistair stared at Edward for several seconds before the news sank in. “Gabe got married,” he stated, finally understanding Edward’s simple statement. “To whom?” he asked, straightening in his chair. “I just spoke with him a couple of months ago. He had no prospects.”
Edward grinned, rather enjoying his friend’s surprise. “Her name is Sarah. Anna claims she is a blond beauty from the country who is gracious, and apparently rather industrious.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Gabe found her runnin
g a coaching inn up in Staffordshire. He’s apparently known her for some time and decided she would make a suitable countess.”
Alistair allowed a smile. So Gabriel Wellingham had managed to find a wife outside of the ton. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispered, surprised at just how quickly the earl had managed to find a wife.
If he can do it, then so can I, he thought.
Lady Julia couldn’t remain too angry with him if he proposed the night of her come-out. How many chits could claim to get marriage proposals at their first ball?
“Where did you propose to Anna?” Alistair asked suddenly, thinking Edward would have chosen a particularly romantic place to pop the question.
“Oh, everywhere,” Edward answered with a wave of his hand. When he saw his friend’s expression of confusion, he added, “Because I’ve known since childhood I was going to marry her, I asked her several times in several places. But you’ll probably have the best chance of success if you propose in a dark garden during a ball. Preferably a ball where her father can announce the engagement without impinging on anyone else’s good news.” This last was said with a cocked eyebrow, implying Alistair should carefully consider at which ball the proposal take place.
Alistair’s eyes widened.
The Mayfield ball was obviously the only ball at which he could ask for Julia’s hand. There would be no other announcements planned for the evening. But …
“I can’t ask her tonight,” Alistair stated suddenly.
Edward’s eyes widened. “Ask who?”
“Lady Julia.”
“Well, I must say, this is quite sudden. She must have really cast a powerful spell over you,” he teased, careful not to have too much fun at Alistair’s expense. “And, pray tell, why can’t you ask her?”
Alistair shook his head. “If you recall, my father cut me off. I have no income, besides what I make as a groom, and what little I have in savings will have to go to the widow,” he explained, a sadness settling over him. “Lady Julia isn’t going to agree to marry a man who can’t keep her in the manner to which she’s become accustomed.”
Sighing, Edward leaned back in the settee. “Perhaps you should let her decide that for herself,” he suggested as he pulled a pocket watch from his topcoat pocket. “And on that note, I must take my leave. I promised Anna we would enjoy a late tea before coming to this ball.”
Alistair nodded, a bit relieved that there would be gentlemen he knew at the ball. If things got a bit tense, he could always seek them out and join their circle. “Thank you for bringing the evening clothes. And for paying for them,” he said as he stood.
Edward joined him near the door. “Don’t thank me yet, Comber,” he warned with a cocked eyebrow. “You might be cursing all of us before the night is done.”
Or cursing myself, Alistair considered before he gave the earl’s son a nod.
Chapter 39
Come-outs
“You will be the belle of the ball,” Samantha claimed as she watched her new lady’s maid, Mary, finish pinning a headband onto Lily’s curls. The headband, adorned with a cameo and a short ostrich feather, was the latest in fashion for those sporting the shorter hairstyles.
Lily shrugged, too humble to believe a gentleman would find her any prettier than any of the other chits who would be attending the Mayfield ball. Her gown, a white satin underdress with a sarcenet overdress, was simple and elegant.
Samantha had opted for a new gown, favoring ruched chiffon around the neckline of a white satin gown. Her hair, adorned with white pearls amongst the pinned curls surrounding an elegant bun, had taken her new maid nearly a hour to complete. The style made her appear a bit older than she was, but she favored the look. She was no longer interested in trying to pass as one of the newest gels in the Marriage Mart, but thought instead to attract an older gentleman who might require a devoted wife and an heir.
“Lady Chamberlain was kind to allow my mum to help dress me,” Lily said, pinching her cheeks until they pinked up. She had watched Samantha do the same over the years and now understood why.
“My aunt is so excited, she’s about to burst,” Samantha claimed as she grinned at her reflection in the cheval mirror. “You would think she was the one having her come-out.”
Lily smiled as she pulled on her dance slippers. “At least I won’t be the only one being introduced to the ton tonight,” she said. At Samantha’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I received a letter from Lord Trenton. He married a few days ago, and will be bringing his wife tonight.”
Samantha’s eyes widened in surprise. “Married? Gabriel Wellingham?” she countered. She hadn’t heard any gossip suggesting the man was even engaged!
“I know. It is a bit of shock. But he claims to be in love, and he has known his Sarah for longer than a year,” Lily explained as she took a shawl from Mary.
“Sarah … who?” Samantha wondered.
“Cumberbatch,” Lily replied with a shrug. “No one in London knows of her.”
“A baron’s daughter,” Samantha guessed.
Lily shook her head. “I’ve no idea.” She was about to mention where Gabriel had met his bride when there was knock at the door. Lady Chamberlain popped her head around the door. “We really must be leaving, girls,” she said as she gave them both an admiring gaze. “I don’t want to miss a minute.”
Lily and Samantha grinned as they joined Lady Chamberlain in the hall. As they made their way down the central staircase to the vestibule, Lord Chamberlain began clapping his hands together. “Brava,” he shouted. “Not only are you all beautiful, you’re actually ready on time,” he teased. “Let’s be off.” Before the girls could reply, the man was out the front doors and down the steps to the coach-and-four.
“Nervous?” Temperance Mayfield wondered as she regarded her daughter from where she stood in the hallway.
Having just come from her bedchamber, Julia turned and regarded her mother. The woman was dressed in a coral gown, the color a perfect compliment for her complexion and hair. And she was looking more calm than she deserved to given she was the hostess of the ball.
Julia felt a bit washed out in her own white gown. She’d been so caught up in preparing the groom for the ball, she had neglected to arrange for a new gown to be made for the night. Instead, she wore one she borrowed from Samantha, its layers of satin and chiffon billowing about her legs with each step she took. “A bit,” she admitted, taking a breath. “Is it already time to form the receiving line?” she wondered.
Her mother cocked an eyebrow. “If there was to be one, then yes, but your father and I decided we’d rather enjoy the entire ball. Lord Chamberlain’s butler is going to do the announcing from the top of the stairs,” Lady Mayfield explained, joining her daughter for their descent to the main floor. The faint sounds of an orchestra tuning their instruments could be heard despite the noise of early arrivals from the vestibule. In only a moment, Lady Mayfield became the gracious hostess, welcoming her guests and engaging in chit-chat with several ladies as footmen saw to their wraps.
Too nervous to speak to anyone, Julia turned to head toward the ballroom and stopped suddenly. Mr. Comber stood in the center of the hall, looking every bit the gentleman she had hoped he would. His black hair was cut short in a Brutus style, accentuating his aristocratic features. His evening clothes, black satin breeches with a black stain topcoat, red waistcoat and black cravat, were tailored to fit him perfectly, and his legs made it apparent he had no need to pad his stockings. Buckled black dance shoes completed his look.
“Mr. Comber,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Lady Julia,” he answered with a bow. He reached out for her gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. He hadn’t been prepared to see her dressed for a ball, her white gown a layered confection that seemed to float around her body, her hair an elegant chignon outlined with tiny braids and dotted with baby’s breath. “You look very lovely,” he managed to get out.
Juli
a stared at the groom, almost forgetting to curtsy. “Thank you. And you … you look as if you could be an … an earl, or a marquess,” she managed to get out, not aware that the groom still held her hand.
Alistair stilled himself. “About that,” he replied, remembering Edward’s Seward decree. She had just given him the perfect opportunity to explain his situation. “I have something I really must tell you …”
“There you are,” Lady Samantha called out from behind Julia.
Dropping her hand as if it had burned him, Alistair straightened at the approach of Samantha and a blonde chit who looked as if she could be Cupid’s sister. “Ladies,” he said as he bowed and took their hands in turn, kissing the backs of their knuckles.
Julia curtsied to her friend and turned to Lily. “Lady Samantha, Lady Lily, I’d like you to meet Mr. Comber,” she said, giving Samantha a wink as she did so.
“So very good to meet you,” the two said in unison, and then giggled when they realized how they must have sounded.
“Lady Lily is making her come-out at this ball,” Samantha explained proudly.
“Ah, then might I reserve a dance?” Alistair wondered, thinking a girl fresh out of the school room wouldn’t be hard to impress with his dancing skills.
Lily’s eyes widened. “I … Why, of course,” she answered, hoping Samantha’s finger poke into her rib wasn’t evident to the handsome man. “The Scotch reel?” she added.
Alistair nodded. “I will find you,” he said.
A sudden pang of jealousy gripped Julia. “Might I have the Cotillion?” she wondered, realizing the groom would be booked solid for dancing if she didn’t get him reserved for one.
“Of course,” he answered with a nod. “My lady?” he said to Samantha. “Might you consider a dance with me? An English Country dance?” he wondered, thinking he need only dance one more to keep his promise to Julia.
My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy) Page 27
