A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) (25 page)

"You are right, of course. I know I am being selfish, but it is so very lonely without him here and I just did not realize it would be this difficult, you see." She looked from her aunt to the earl with pleading eyes.

Lady Alana drew Allie close for a hug and smoothed back her amber curls. "Yes, we do see. Be sure of it. Perhaps Griffin will see things more your way, for he, too, must be very lonely and missing you a great deal. He writes nearly every day, does he not?"

"Yes, but his letters have become a litany of late and say the same things, ask the same questions, over and over. It's as though we've lost the ability to communicate on any subject but the length of our engagement."

"That is most likely because it is a problem uppermost in both your minds. We'll find a solution, never fear." Rothburn, waxing magnanimous in the extreme with his own good fortune, spoke with conviction, though he was not sure just what solution would serve these two young persons.

He knew his cousin was set on providing for the girl on his own, but if they wed now, that would not be possible. Deciding to let the chips fall where they may, he vowed to get Griffin to the wedding and let them work out their own schedule.

He turned to his betrothed with a gentle smile that quickly became a joyous grin, echoing her own. "I've much to do—and you as well—if we are to be on our way in two days time. As soon as Sir Gordon arrives, see if you can get him to alert our small guest list that the time has arrived."

Smiling, Rothburn went out the door whistling a ditty. Lady Alana went into action—a veritable whirling dervish—Allie close on her heels, her own troubles forgotten momentarily.

* * * * *

Griffin opened the letter, delivered by a footman in Rothburn livery, and read it through twice before looking up at the messenger. "Tell His Lordship I will be in Cheshire on time. Here is something for your trouble, good man." He handed the servant two shillings and watched the man bow his way out of the room, grinning and jingling the coins in his hand.

He then pocketed the three ten pound notes that had been included with an instruction to buy a decent set of clothes for the occasion. It would also pay for his travel expenses, which relieved the student immensely.

Turning to his desk, he quickly pulled the lecture notes into a pile, stuffed them in a small valise, and went to pack a bag. Griffin was coming up on midterms and thought he should take at least some of his studies with him. He was anxious to do well and make his mark, that he might provide well for Allie and any children they would have.

His heart quickened at the thought of seeing her in two days' time. It had been several weeks since the pair had seen one another and it had been a very lonely time for him—as Rothburn and Alana had predicted.

Sometimes he regretted the waiting with such intensity that on more than one occasion he'd almost gone to his cousin with a plea for assistance so they might be wed immediately. Most often though, he banished the impulse by thinking of how much happier they'd be in the long run were he able to provide for them from the beginning, and so resolved to wait.

If he could.

He hurried along with his preparations, anticipating a much needed break from his studies—but mostly the mental image of Allie and her brilliant sapphire eyes held him in thrall. He was so engrossed in thinking of her that he nearly forgot to take his notes with him.

At the last minute he snatched up his most recent letter to Allie and stuffed it in his breast pocket, thinking to deliver it in person—after finishing it, of course.

* * * * *

Cheshire was a veritable garden of spring, the trees full with new budding leaves, the wildflowers spread over the downs in a bright profusion of color, the sky more blue than any sky in the world. That is how the entourage viewed it, climbing the long drive to Jennings Manor.

The first carriage held Rothburn, his mother and Sir Gordon. Behind them came Lady Alana, Allie and Griffin—who'd caught up with them at the last posting inn. The following six carriages held numerous relatives and friends, including Lady Eleanor and her parents, Lord and Lady Avonleigh, who were delighted to be included.

Sir Gordon had been designated to give away the bride. Lady Alana's oldest brother—expecting his first child—could not very well leave his wife at a time like this. The next oldest brother, being in India with his regiment, the 16th Lancers, regrettably could not attend, either. The absence of her brothers on such an auspicious occasion saddened her, but Alana, looking forward to a new niece or nephew, was somewhat mollified.

Conspicuously absent were the parents of the bride. By a marvel of maneuvering, Lady Grace had been kept in ignorance, much to the relief of all parties concerned. The bride was hurried to the suite assigned her, along with mounds of luggage and several ladies to assist in preparations. Allie, though reluctant to leave Griffin—even for a moment—understood the urgency of getting the wedding underway and left him in the library with the other gentlemen.

* * * * *

"Well, Rothburn, does your neck feel the noose tightening?" The Marquis of Darlington, who had come from his nearby estate, teased the groom, his tired old eyes studying the younger man." I made the leap four times, and it never got easier. I do hope you have better luck than I did."

His words caused some laughter, excepting the nervous groom, whose cravat felt tight enough to choke him, as evidenced by his red face.

Rothburn replied to the elderly peer with an air of one who is about to go to the gallows, "I admit to some hesitation, now that the moment is upon me, but I would hope that you all enjoy the spectacle, for I shall be calm as a stone after I finish this brandy."

With that, he tossed back the amber liquid in such haste that he began to choke in earnest, eliciting more laughter. The mood was light, the participants eager for gaiety, consequently ready to laugh at nearly anything. Even the sight of a man choking—although he was in no danger of expiring from his hasty guzzling.

Jennings—a cousin of Lord Champlay—eagerly greeted his gusts. He and Mrs. Jennings were a middle-aged, childless couple, happy to have all the excitement in their otherwise uneventful lives. Mistress Jennings had gone to great trouble to prepare her parlor for the nuptials and hothouse flowers were everywhere. The ancient oak furniture gleamed with polish and the atmosphere was cozy throughout the manor.

Not an overly large house, by country standards, it had ample space for the thirty-odd guests and the overflow of servants they had brought.

While awaiting the bride and her attendants, the company wandered the grounds and the two gardens, or sat in the large drawing room, chatting about this and that. All were prepared to wait as long as necessary. Everyone, that is, except the groom, whose penchant for theatrics had reached its peak in his agitation.

Consulting his watch for the hundredth time, Rothburn began to pace. "I vow, it is nearly time and I'm ready to bolt. How do I look?  I feel faint—actually faint. I cannot believe it."

His face paled, perspiration dotted his brow and his normally very deep voice had become squeaky with apprehension.

"Really, Rothburn, you are only being wed. Nothing to it lad. Just stand up with the girl and give your promises and you'll be leg-shackled without a hitch." Sir Gordon, beginning to be irritated with Rothburn's pacing, spoke in a rather strident voice, but his grin was in place, so that when Rothburn looked at him irritably, his visage did not appear to match his tone, and Rothburn grinned back.

"Well, you must take careful note, Gordon, for you will be next." He looked at Griffin. "And you as well. This is just momentary panic, I am sure. You will find me a model of perfection as I take my vows."

He looked then at the older men, seeking their assurance and gratified at their solemn nods.

"If you touch your cravat once more, Cousin, you will delay the wedding even further, for it will take a miracle to repair the damage and a great deal of time." Griffin smiled at The Earl of Rothburn and went to refill his glass. "Mayhap a bit more of this will help settle you down."

Lady Susan appeared in the doorway and spoke with some amusement, her eyes scanning the assembled gentlemen. "Not too much Griffin. We don't want to carry him up the aisle. Wouldn't look right at all.  I've come to tell you to take your places. The bride is ready."

"And high time, I'd say." Rothburn, too agitated to appreciate his bride's efforts on his behalf, strode to his mother and escorted her to her seat, followed from the room by the other males.

Taking his place on the small dais, sandwiched between the vicar and Griffin, he looked at the entryway, holding his breath, though he did not realize it. When the chords struck on the harp, Allie stepped forward, drawing a gasp from Griffin. The light from the windows illumed her hair and struck brilliance in her eyes. Her eyes on his in a most alluring manner, she made her way to the front and stepped to the other side of the vicar, ready to take the bride's bouquet.

Lady Alana, following her closely, stepped though the door on the arm of her nephew, and glided toward Rothburn with such grace as he'd never seen. Her dress of ivory lace over silk clung to her willowy figure and her eyes held his with intensity, head high as she came forward.

She arrived at the altar and Sir Gordon placed her hand on Rothburn's arm, stepping back as the couple turned to face the vicar. Rothburn placed a hand atop hers, gulping air at last, earning a curious look from the bride.

They intoned their vows amid the soft thrumming of the harp and the quiet, inevitable tears shed by the older ladies in the assembly, and within a few moments, they were husband and wife at last.

Rothburn was mesmerized by the beauty and serenity of the woman who stood beside him and he could only stare at her in rapt attention as she gazed back in much the same manner. When the vicar repeated his suggestion that the groom might kiss the bride, still they stood immobile.

Griffin leaned forward and whispered—rather loudly, "I say, old fellow, do kiss her and let's get to the dancing."

There was much laughter in the front row, for all had heard his words, and he drew a puzzled frown from Rothburn for his efforts.

Then, brought to himself of a sudden, Rothburn dipped his head and kissed Alana, busing her lips softly, breathing his whispered words into her mouth. "You are mine now. I love you, Lady Alana, Countess Rothburn."

"And I you My Lord Rothburn," Alana whispered back just as softly, so that even those close to the couple could not hear their exchange. Her heart leapt and galloped away as her new husband looked at her with a dark gaze, filled with promise of the night to come.

Turning back to the audience, Rothburn proudly presented his bride, saying, "Most honored guests, I give you my wife, Lady Alana George, Sixth Countess of Rothburn."

A burst of applause followed and everyone surrounded the couple, wringing Rothburn's hand, slapping his back until both ached. The pop of a champagne cork drew all eyes to the Earl of Avonleigh, who held up the magnum, exclaiming in a loud voice. "Let us toast the couple. Come everyone, get a glass, and be quick, for Rothburn looks dry and needing a drink, don'tcha know?"

The late afternoon sun streamed through the west facing windows of the drawing room, layering everyone and everything within in a soft golden glow. Champagne flowed freely, laughter was paramount and the gathering was mellow, for even Rothburn had calmed at last.

With the object of his desire securely by his side, he waxed magnanimous in his toasts, his boasts and his hearty thanks to all.

Lady Alana, overcome by all the excitement, had grown thoughtful and she had developed a shyness as well, as her thoughts turned inward to the night ahead.

If she seemed quiet and less gregarious than her new husband, no one appeared to notice, except perhaps the elderly Marquis of Darlington. His eyes followed the young woman as she progressed around the room. There was something in her bearing and stance that reminded him of a woman he had once loved and his nostalgic feelings grew with his observations.

"A word with you, my good man." Darlington approached the couple and stood before them, bowing gravely to the bride and looking meaningfully at the groom. "I know you cannot bear to be parted, but this will only take a moment Rothburn, and I vow, it will be well worth your time to hear me out."