The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(84)

“I didn’t have to. My mother did. And my sister and brother. He does like you, Henderson. It’s just difficult for him to give up on traditions.”

“I am heartily glad he came around.” He bent his head and kissed her long and hard, sighing when he realized her mother could return at any time. He did not want either of her parents catching him ravishing their daughter again.





Chapter 19


The day of their wedding, Henderson made sure he arrived well in advance of the bride. His grandfather thought him ridiculous, but Henderson was taking no chance of worrying Alice. When she arrived, he sent his grandfather to tell her that he was already there, waiting in the wings, to see her walk down the aisle of the small church in the center of St. Ives.

Lord Berkley was his best man and Oliver his groomsman, and he knew Joseph was there in spirit.

“Are you ready, lad?” his grandfather asked gruffly.

“As ready as a man can be to wed,” he said.

“You’ve done well for yourself, boy. Your grandmother and I could not be prouder.”

Henderson knew everything he had in life was because his grandparents had made sacrifices on his behalf. He would not have gone to Eton, he would not have met Joseph, and he would not be marrying Alice if not for the love and support they’d given him his entire life. From his vantage point, he could see his grandmother, looking nervously about, no doubt feeling a bit out of place among some of the dignitaries in the room, which included the Duke of Warwick himself. Alice had tried to convince her grandfather that he need not attend yet another of her weddings, but the old duke insisted, saying that he would never forgive himself if he missed her actually get married.

“I want you to know how grateful I am for all you and Grandmother have done.”

“’Twas nothing.” His words were gruff, but Henderson could tell his grandfather was pleased. “Just don’t go thinking you’re better than you are.”

Henderson had to laugh, for all his life his grandparents had made him believe he was better than he was, that he had every right to go to Eton, to Oxford, to spend summers with the aristocracy. “I will never be a better man than you, Grandfather, though I will try.”

His grandfather chuckled. “I’ll go sit with your grandmother and give her some courage. She looks about to faint.”

Henderson watched him go, his heart swelling. He truly had been blessed with his grandparents, and that his mother wasn’t there and he didn’t even know who his father was meant nothing today.

When the organ began to play, Lord Berkley and Oliver came up beside him and Oliver slapped his back. “Are you ready?” his soon-to-be brother-in-law asked.

“I am.”

“Don’t die, don’t run off, and I think we’ll all get through this fine.”

Henderson was laughing as he walked to the front of the church and waited to see his bride. The church was packed and outside in the street, he could hear the rumble of the small crowd of spectators who had gathered to wish the couple well—and to get a glimpse of a duke and an earl, the grandfathers of the bride.

It had been two months since Lord Hubbard had given his permission for them to marry, and since that time, Henderson had hardly had the chance to kiss Alice, never mind make love. While it had been torture, they had agreed to act like a proper engaged couple, though Henderson had managed to sneak in a few kisses along the way.

When Henderson got his first glimpse of her, he held his breath, she was that beautiful. Her gown was emerald green, the same green as her eyes, and was something a princess might wear in a fairy tale. Never had a bride looked as lovely as Alice did, walking toward him, a smile on her face that told him she was as happy as he.

Lord Hubbard handed over his daughter with a wink and a smile, and even that small gesture had Henderson fighting back tears.

The ceremony was short, the cheers afterward heartwarming. As they stood before the congregation, hand in hand, now Mr. and Mrs. Southwell, Henderson gave a look to heaven and silently thanked Joseph, who he knew was up there watching and probably cheering just as madly as the rest of them.

Alice leaned over, and he ducked his head so he could hear her whisper.

“My gown is too tight. Around the belly.”

Henderson dumbly looked at her tiny waist, his brows furrowed. “You look lovely to me,” he said, and was surprised when Alice laughed.

“Around my belly, Henderson.” She widened her eyes as if to say, Are you a dunce?

Well, he must be because he had no idea what—

“No.”

She nodded her head and her eyes filled with tears. “Yes. Aunt Agatha is going to have another interesting entry in her family tree in about seven months.”

Then, in front of the entire congregation, who still stood and clapped and looked at them with smiles and misty eyes, Henderson kissed his wife senseless, propriety be damned.





Epilogue


Lord Berkley prepared for long hours for his first speech before the House of Lords, only to find out, not two weeks prior, that the monsoons had returned to India and now after two years of drought, the general feeling, even among those who supported relief efforts, was that it was no longer needed.

“I’m more relieved that I can express,” Berkley said. He had invited the Southwells to stay in his home while he and Henderson were in London preparing for the speech. It was a moderate townhouse in Cavendish Square, and Berkley mentioned more than one time that he felt suffocated in London. “I spent too much time in the American West to feel comfortable in a city ever again. I cannot find enough air to breathe.”