A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)(39)

A quarter-hour before his wedding was scheduled to begin, Toby stood in the annex of St. George’s of Hanover, wearing a new tailcoat of close-cut superfine and a wide, idiotic grin. Hundreds of guests representing the first skim of the cream of English society crammed the church pews, all waiting to see the infamous bachelor at long last take a wife. And they would not be disappointed. They would be treated to a spectacle of blossoms and lace and seed pearls the likes of which London had never seen, and a wedding breakfast so richly spiced they’d be tasting it for weeks. And at the center of it all would sparkle an unparalleled, legendary beauty: Isabel.

His Isabel.

Toby smoothed his coat sleeve. He was determined to present a relaxed exterior, but inwardly he hummed with anticipation. This morning, he claimed a public victory. Tonight, in private, he claimed his prize. Barring a last-moment crisis, this was going to be a good day. When Gray entered the room and shot him an angry glare, Toby’s grin only widened. Gray’s presence meant Isabel had arrived at the church; the rage in his eyes meant the wedding was still on.

It was going to be a very good day.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” Gray said, prowling the small room. “I can’t believe I’m going to hand my sister over to you.”

Toby watched him with satisfaction. “I thought agitated pacing was the groom’s duty. Come on, Gray. It’s not so bad as all that. You make it sound as though you’re leading her to the guillotine.”

“It’s your head I’d have on a platter.” Gray stopped circling the room and drilled him with a threatening look. “I told you months ago—keep her happy, or there will be no wedding.”

The bottom dropped out of Toby’s stomach. “Is Isabel not happy?”

“No. She’s not happy. She’s goddamned ecstatic, and I hate you for it.”

Toby covered his sigh of relief with a laugh.

Gray continued, “After today, I’ve no threat to hold over your head. Well, I suppose I could always kill you.” He said this with an insulting, nonchalant wave of his hand that suggested dispatching Toby would cost him all the effort of swatting a gnat. “But I’m not eager to make my sister a widow at the tender age of twenty.”

“Er … Thank you? I guess?”

“Damn it, I’m serious. After today, I can’t order you to keep her happy.” Gray approached him. “So I’m not threatening you anymore, I’m … Bloody hell, I’m begging you. This is my baby sister. My only sister. And this morning, she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her in her life.” He jabbed a finger in Toby’s chest. “Don’t c**k it up.”

“Good God, man. I think you’re going to cry.”

Gray bristled. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, I swear it. Your eyes are all glittery.” Toby raised a finger to the corner of his own eye. “Look, right here … a little tear just about to fall—”

“Go to hell.” Gray turned on his heel, making a show of raking his hand through his hair before surreptitiously swiping at his eyes.

Toby felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Perhaps it was poor form to gloat, when he’d already won the battle. “Listen,” he said. “You’ve nothing to worry about. No one wants to see Isabel happy more than I do.”

Gray threw him a look of utter skepticism.

“No, I mean it,” Toby said slowly, just as surprised as anyone to realize he was speaking the truth. “I know you can’t credit it. She’s been your sister all your life, and here she’s been my intended just a matter of months. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I tell you quite honestly, there’s nothing more important to me than seeing Isabel happy. Nothing.”

Gray made a sound of derision.

For both their sakes, Toby decided to lighten the mood. “Look at it this way. You’re not losing a sister, you’re gaining a brother.”

“God. Now I really will weep.” Collecting himself, Gray gave Toby a superior smirk. “Well, I’d best be getting back to Sophia. You know, my wife.”

“Oh, no. That won’t work anymore, either. I’m not envious of you. How could I be, seeing how it all turned out?” For the second time in the space of a minute, Toby’s impulsive honesty came as a revelation. It was true. What ever his mixed feelings toward Gray, jealousy no longer had any part in them. “Mind, I still think Sophia’s too good for you.”

“Of course she is. I’m no fool.”

“And I know we can agree Isabel’s simply too good for this world.” Toby smiled. “There’s nothing for it, Gray. I think we’ll just have to get along.”

Gray’s shoulders scrunched together, as if the idea sent chills down his spine.

“Come on,” Toby prodded, enjoying the moment thoroughly. “I’m an amiable sort. I’m friends with everyone.” He opened his arms and tilted his head to the side. “Brotherly hug?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. I’d sooner cut off my own bollocks.” Gray made for the exit, leaving Toby’s arms suspended mid-air. He paused at the door just long enough to repeat those encouraging words: “Don’t c**k it up.”

Don’t c**k it up, indeed. What an enlightening chat. All this time, Toby had focused on getting even with Gray—only to find they’d emerged as allies. At some point in their betrothal, somewhere in the midst of begging, charming, cajoling, and outright lying to earn her approval