by Music Box
“Don’t try.” Gaby was about to break apart, everything inside her coiled, poised, waiting. “Bryce …”
“Now … right now,” he rasped, melding their loins for one fierce, unendurable instant.
They shattered together, dissolving into a thousand brilliant fragments of sensation, clinging to each other as the passion peaked, then ebbed, banking into the wondrous aftermath that was as magical as the minutes preceding it.
“I love you,” Gaby breathed, her limbs sinking weakly to the bed.
“Each moment, each day, I fall in love with you all over again,” Bryce murmured, kissing her soft, parted lips. “But that’s the miracle of Wonderland.”
Gaby lifted her lashes, and the look she gave him was filled with aching tenderness. “One of the miracles of Wonderland,” she corrected. “You, my darling husband, provide quite a few of your own.”
A stampede of footsteps intruded on their privacy.
“Gaby?” Lily knocked soundly on the door. “Are you and Mr. Lynd—I mean Bryce—still asleep? Chaunce said we should leave you alone. But I knew you wouldn’t want that. ʼCause the vicar will be here in a half hour for—you know, the rehearsal.”
One glance at the clock, which now read nine-thirty, confirmed Lily’s announcement.
“We’re awake, Lily.” Gaby was already scrambling out of bed. “We’re just …” Frantically, she searched for an excuse.
“We’re just late,” Bryce supplied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “But we’ll be there in plenty of time. I promise.”
“Oh, good.” Lily sounded thoroughly relieved. “Did you hear that?” she declared to whoever else was with her. “They’re just late. Let’s go wait for them in the chapel.”
The stampede of footsteps resumed, then faded away.
“We’re just late?” Gaby repeated, as she hastened toward the bathroom. “Is that the most original excuse you could conjure up?”
Bryce’s eyes twinkled. “Not original, but incredibly fitting. I borrowed it from Alice’s white rabbit.”
The chapel was in chaos when Gaby and Bryce arrived.
Marion and Ruth were whispering in the rear, repeating the wedding vows aloud in the hope of learning them. Along the right side of the room Goodsmith and Wilson paced up and down, muttering nervously about rings and the proper time to lift the bride’s veil for a kiss.
The rest of the staff was rushing from one end of the chapel to the other, alternately calming down the grooms and reassuring the brides.
In the center of the room, Chaunce was conducting a card game with the children to keep them occupied, and at the altar, Hermione was conversing with Vicar Kent, probably seeking the help of some higher being to ease the hysteria that pervaded the chapel.
“We haven’t missed anything, have we?” Gaby asked brightly.
“No, no, of course not.” Vicar Kent smiled down at them from his sanctified position. “Although I do wish your aunt wouldn’t worry so much. It isn’t good for her health.”
Hermione frowned. “My health is fine, Vicar. I’m simply upset that four people I happen to love, each of whom adores his or her betrothed, are getting married tomorrow and are distraught rather than excited about the nuptials.”
“Still,” Bryce observed, “Vicar Kent is right. You really shouldn’t become so overwrought. Think of how weak you’ve been.”
“Actually, Aunt Hermione has been much better these past weeks,” Gaby informed her husband. “Why, I haven’t seen Chaunce fetch her medicine once, have you?”
“Now that you mention it, no.”
Chaunce and Hermione exchanged glances.
“Dr. Briers doesn’t feel I need as many doses as I once did,” Hermione explained. “Evidently I’m regaining my strength.”
“How wonderful!” Gaby said, her entire face aglow.
“Indeed it is,” Bryce concurred. “To what does Dr. Briers attribute your recovery? Whatever it is, we’ll have to ensure you receive more of it.”
A loud wail from Ruth interrupted their conversation.
“Ruth, what is it?” Hermione asked, hurrying over.
“Oh, ma’am, I don’t know what to do,” Ruth replied, wringing her hands. “I love Wilson so much, but I just know I’m going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and embarrass him.”
“You?” Wilson bellowed from the other side of the room. “It’s me who’s goin’ to ruin things. I’m not used to speakin’ my mind to anyone but a shovel. And you’re too precious to stutter even one word to.”
“I’ve whipped this ring out of my pocket a dozen times,” Goodsmith announced. “And I drop it each time. What kind of bridegroom drops his bride’s ring?”
“And I trip every time I practice walking down the aisle,” Marion chimed in. “I’m convinced I’m going to knock the vicar over and land at George’s feet.”
“Please, all of you, stop.” Hermione waved away their complaints, pulling her petite form up in that remarkably regal way she had. “You’re all just nervous. That’s perfectly natural. But I don’t want—”
“What in the name of heaven is going on in here?” Thane demanded, stepping inside the chapel. “I came to attend a wedding rehearsal. Instead, I’m walking into a brawl. What’s the matter?”
Four overwrought voices began explaining at once.
“Wait.” Bryce waved his arms to silence everyone. “You all watched and listened as Gaby and I took our vows. As you saw, there was nothing to it.”
“You’re a barrister,” Wilson muttered. “You’re good at talkin’. I’m a gardener. I’m not.”
“Wilson, the words come from your heart, just as the feelings do,” Gaby said softly. “I assure you that anyone can say them.” Seeing his skeptical expression, she shot a pleading look in Chaunce’s direction.
The butler rose from his card game. “I’m not a barrister, Wilson. Will it reassure you if I show you how it’s done?”
Wilson looked as if he wanted to kiss Chaunce, who was unofficially but undeniably the male head of the family. “You’d do that for me?”
“Certainly.” Clearing his throat, Chaunce walked solemnly down the aisle, positioning himself in front of Vicar Kent.
“Now what?” Goodsmith called out.
“Now I await the bride.”
Marion let out a whimper. “How do I know how fast to walk? Or how slow? How do I take the proper steps?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I shall demonstrate.” She glanced at Thane. “Since Chaunce is acting the part of the bridegroom and can’t fill his role as escort, would you mind ushering me down the aisle?”
A chuckle. “My pleasure.”
“Now watch—Marion, Ruth.” Taking Thane’s arm, Hermione walked sedately down the aisle, placing one foot in front of the other as she made her way toward Chaunce. “Just look straight ahead and take measured steps. That way you won’t trip or fall. All right?”
“All right.” Marion’s brow furrowed as she watched Thane turn Hermione over to Chaunce. “And now?”
“Now comes my part,” Vicar Kent advised her. “I read as follows …” He recited the ceremony, substituting Chaunce’s and Hermione’s names for those of the brides and grooms.
“Reginald?” Lily piped up in surprise. “I didn’t know Chaunce’s name was Reginald.”
“I didn’t know Chaunce had a name,” Henry whispered loudly.
“Of course he has a name,” Peter explained. “Everyone has a name. Reginald is his given name, Chaunce his surname.”
“Shhh,” Jane hissed. “This is the good part. I remember from Gaby and Bryce’s wedding.”
They all fell silent, listening as Hermione and Chaunce exchanged vows, demonstrating to the others how it was done. The vicar dug in his pocket, producing a spare ring he evidently kept for emergencies like this one.
Chaunce slipped the ring on Hermione’s finger.
There was a brief moment of quiet.
Then Hermione turned to face the r
oom. “So you see? There’s really nothing—”
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Vicar Kent trumpeted proudly. He waited for one long, patient moment, then gave Chaunce a gentle nudge. “You may kiss your bride,” he said with a meaningful glance at Hermione.
“Pardon me?” Chaunce inquired.
“I said, you may kiss your bride.” A broad grin. “I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.”
“Vicar …” Hermione inclined her head in his direction. “What on earth are you—”
“I’m marrying you two,” he replied, “as I’ve wanted to do for years. Correction: I’ve just married you. Now you must kiss and greet your well-wishers.”
Both Hermione and Chaunce stared, stupefied, from the vicar to each other, to the roomful of people all gazing expectantly at them.
“Go ahead, Chaunce,” Thane urged. “We’ve awaited this day with bated breath—nearly as eagerly as the two of you have.”
“And a good deal more impatiently,” Gaby chided good-naturedly. “Honestly, at least Bryce and I had the good sense to realize we’d fallen in love. How long did you intend to ignore the obvious?”
“On the other hand, your dawdling did give us the opportunity to concoct this splendid plan,” Bryce pointed out. “We accomplished two great feats in one: uniting two people who were made for each other and affording ourselves the pleasure of outdoing the masters.” His lips twitched. “Surrender, you two. You’ve been bested. Our match is as well-devised as yours, and as cleverly and secretly arranged. But we accomplished it without feigning a need for medication—rather, lemon water—or inventing guardianships. We found something more effective than either: our family.” He made a grand sweep with his arm, indicating all the scheming conspirators now beaming at the gaping bride and groom. “A remarkable group of actors, wouldn’t you say?” Bryce’s teeth gleamed.
Hermione’s dazed glance darted from Wilson and Goodsmith to Marion and Ruth. “You mean you didn’t … you weren’t … you aren’t …” She never finished her sentence.
Everyone understood nonetheless, and a rumble of laughter reverberated through the room.
Marion answered for the four of them. “Quite the contrary. Yesterday, during our real practice ceremony, Ruth and Wilson spoke their vows with not a single stammer, George flourished my wedding ring in one smooth motion, and I walked down the aisle without so much as a wobble. So, no, ma’am, we didn’t want your help. What we wanted was your happiness.”
Hermione’s lips trembled as the reality of what was happening slowly began to sink in. Her misty gaze drifted over the group, settling on Bryce and Gaby. “You knew about the medicine, about the guardianship—about everything?”
A broad grin split Bryce’s face. “Aren’t you the one who insists that I have a brilliant legal mind? What kind of barrister would I be if I couldn’t recognize manipulation and deduce its objective?” He wrapped an arm about Gaby’s waist. “An incomparably flawless objective, I might add. As for my wife here, she’s not only insightful, she never sleeps. Put the two together and you have a keen mind that’s perpetually in motion.”
Gaby laughed, enjoying the expression of utter incredulity on Aunt Hermione’s face and, more astoundingly, on Chaunce’s. “Once Bryce and I combined our suspicions, we unraveled your scheme like a ball of wool. Of course, we needed to be sure, because we were eager to return the favor. So we did the only practical thing. We went to see Dr. Briers. We explained our intentions to him, and he was more than willing to help, since he also happens to think you two make an ideal couple. He divulged the truth about your supposed illness. That was all we needed. The rest was easy, thanks to our family.” Gaby cast a tender look about her. “We all know how much you two love each other, how right it is that you become husband and wife. But we also know you never consider your own needs. You’re too busy worrying about ours. Well, it’s time you understood that your joy is ours.” Tears glistened on Gaby’s lashes, and she gestured for Chaunce to seal his marriage as the vicar had advised. “Enough chatter. Kiss your bride, Chaunce. We’re all waiting. It’s up to you to make our family complete.”
Chaunce swallowed, his eyes damp. Then, rife with emotion, he gave a brief nod and turned to face Hermione.
The two of them smiled at each other, a sense of lightness hovering between them, and Chaunce lowered his head, brushed Hermione’s lips with his.
A jubilant cheer erupted in the chapel and the entire family surged forward, surrounding the bride and groom in a sea of good wishes and love.
“I’m beginning to relish these weddings I conduct at Nevon Manor,” Vicar Kent declared to Gaby and Bryce, after offering his congratulations to the bride and groom. “One could become accustomed to these delightful, unorthodox displays of emotion.”
“Then isn’t it fortunate you’ll be back here tomorrow when Marion and Goodsmith, Ruth and Wilson, truly do wed,” Gaby laughed.
“And don’t forget Thane,” Bryce added blandly, keeping a perfectly straight face. “I’m sure his day of reckoning won’t be far off if Hermione has her way. Why, I’m sure she’s already begun concocting enticing plans for his future—with the help of her ingenious new husband, of course.”
“Didn’t we plan an extended wedding trip for those two?” Thane demanded. “If not, I think we should.”
“No, thank you, Thane.” Hermione appeared at his side, patting his arm reassuringly. “Thanks to all of you, I have everything I want right here at Nevon Manor. Chaunce and I will be remaining at home, won’t we?” She turned glowing eyes up to her new husband, who’d come to stand beside her.
“Absolutely.” Chaunce’s lips twitched. “Now that our lemon water has been unmasked, we’ll have to be even more resourceful in our next venture.” Abruptly, his amusement vanished, and he gazed solemnly at Thane, Bryce, and Gaby. “Thank you. I’m not a man of words, but I want you to know …”
Gaby stood on tiptoe, kissed his cheek. “We love you, too,” she whispered. With that, she moved to her aunt, hugged her fiercely. “Be as happy as we are. I can wish you nothing more miraculous than that.”
Stepping back, she clapped her hands to get the crowd’s attention. “Everyone, Cook has prepared a mouthwatering feast—”
“In secret again,” Cook called out good-naturedly. “I’m glad tomorrow’s wedding breakfast can finally be prepared out in the open.”
More laughter.
“Let’s escort the bride and groom to the manor and begin the festivities,” Gaby concluded.
“There’s no music for them to exit with,” Marion murmured in dismay. “We didn’t have time to arrange for—”
“Ah, but there is.” Eagerly, Gaby dug into Bryce’s coat pocket, extracting her music box and opening it to release the silvery strains of “Für Elise.” “What better way to begin a marriage than with a music box that now holds nothing but joy?”
“Joy and Beethoven—I can’t think of a more perfect combination,” Bryce replied, drawing Gaby to his side, “other than the breathtaking woman who brought them into my life and the lucky man she married.” Tenderly, he kissed her.
On that note, the chapel doors were flung wide, and everyone poured outside, running, stumbling, even limping toward the manor—a family bound by something more profound than the eye could see. Limitations ceased to exist, supplanted by the deeper knowledge that life’s truest blessings were indeed theirs.
The music box played on.
And Wonderland reigned at Nevon Manor.
When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one.
—Lewis Carroll,
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
A Biography of Andrea Kane
Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty-five novels—including fourteen historical and twelve contemporary novels—that have been published in sixteen countries and translated into more than twenty languages. Whether she’s writin
g about Regency England, America on the brink of civil war, or New York Police Department detectives caught up in mayhem and murder, Kane’s ability to create unforgettable stories has earned her a loyal worldwide following.
Kane published My Heart’s Desire, her first historical novel and the first book in the Barrett Family series, in 1991. Others quickly followed, including Samantha, the second book in that series; Echoes in the Mist and Whispers in the Wind (the Kingsley in Love series); and the acclaimed Black Diamond, Thornton-Bromleigh Family, and Colby Coin series. Stand-alone historic romances include Dream Castle (1992), Masque of Betrayal (1993), Emerald Garden (1996), and The Music Box (1998).
Kane’s groundbreaking romantic thriller Run for Your Life (2000) became an instant New York Times bestseller. This was followed by a series of suspense novels featuring NYPD detective-turned-private investigator Pete “Monty” Montgomery. Kane’s current contemporary series introduced FBI special agents Sloane Burbank and Derek Parker. Other thrillers include No Way Out, Scent of Danger, Twisted, I’ll Be Watching You, The Girl Who Disappeared Twice, and, most recently, The Line Between Here and Gone.
Kane is a self-proclaimed “cerebral” type, and prides herself on her questioning, analytical mind, which has led to her passion for mysteries. She has spent many happy hours with the classic novels of Agatha Christie, trying to outsmart Hercule Poirot.
She is also a die-hard sentimentalist. She cries at old movies and believes in striving for happily-ever-after. In Kane’s words: “The idealist in me loves writing romance, and the pragmatist in me loves writing suspense. I feel very fortunate that I’m able to combine the two, and give you books that keep you at the edge of your seat, but at the same time, make you care.”
Kane lives in New Jersey with her family.
Andrea Kane as a little girl, with her first puppy, Inky, named for the black spots on his white back.
An eight-year-old Kane, a proud sleepaway camper for the first time.
