One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(46)

Stifling a sigh, he accepted the well wishes of the reverend and his wife, still keeping one eye on Jane as she chatted with his sister. Morning light poured through the open terrace doors, making her brown hair gleam richly in its confining chignon.

His sister looked happy, animated, and his heart loosened in his chest, allowing him to breathe easier. At least he had accomplished what he set out to do. If nothing else, he trusted Jane with Julianne. Even if she was a Spencer. Suddenly reminded of his in-laws, he glanced about the room, almost expecting to see their unpleasant visages materialize.

The Duchesses Shillington and Derring stared back at him. Lady Derring's dark eyes, a stark contrast to her fair hair, slid over him, as frank and direct as any man's and vaguely threatening. Lady Shillington was more circumspect, surveying him with sidelong, suspicious glances. He moved to his wife's side. In a low voice, he asked, "Could your family not attend?" She inhaled deeply, her chest rising within her bodice, catching his notice in a way that made him scowl. He didn't want to notice her attributes, did not want to remember the fullness of her breasts in his hands—the way they felt, the way they tasted. He would do well to never let himself become caught in her spell again.

Smiling thinly, she said, "I did not invite them."

He studied her a long moment before murmuring, "I trust you did not do so on my account." Her fragile smile faltered. "It was my wish," she answered in a quiet voice. He felt something tug at his heart. Relief perhaps. Whatever the reason, she had not forced him to suffer the very people that humiliated him years ago. The realization struck him then that he no longer included Jane in their ranks. For better or worse, she was no longer one of them. No longer a Spencer. She was his. Possessiveness crackled through him like summer lightening. His. Who would have thought she could ever elicit such feelings?

Before his icy reserve melted entirely, he turned and addressed the waiting butler. "Are we ready to move to the dining room?"

"Yes, my lord. Breakfast awaits."

"Very good." Extending his arm to his wife, he avoided her gaze, resisting the pull of whatever lurked in those variable depths, reminding himself that she was not of his choosing, no matter how she made his heart beat harder and his blood pump faster.

Her fingers landed soft as a falling leaf on his arm. Together they led their small wedding party into the dining room, to the wedding breakfast Julianne insisted they host. Even though he saw little point in pretending theirs was a happy union brought about through a customary courtship, he relented. A wedding breakfast was a simple enough matter to please his sister. Julianne and the Duchess of Shillington maintained a sprightly banter, seeing to it that the conversation never lagged entirely—no easy task considering the bride and groom's brooding silence.

The coolly dignified Duchess of Derring concerned herself with her food, feasting with a voracious appetite the likes he had never seen in a lady—the only hint of spontaneity in her icy demeanor. Occasionally she paused to level her dark enigmatic stare on him. He stared back, undaunted.

"To Lord and Lady St. Claire," the lady intoned, dark eyes fastened on him as she lifted her glass high. "May his lordship know the treasure he holds in a wife."

"Astrid," Jane whispered, dropping her utensils and tucking her hands beneath the table. The Duchess of Shillington heartily seconded the toast.

Seth sat utterly still for a moment before tossing his head back in a release of harsh laughter. Hands gripping the arms of his chair, he surveyed his guests.

The reverend and his wife exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncertain whether to raise their glasses at the one-sided toast.

Jane's cheeks pinkened.

Her friends held their glasses high, gazes burning into him, ready to carve out his heart if he did not raise his glass. Idly, he traced the edge of his glass in slow circles. Jane followed the movement of his fingers, a shadow falling over her eyes.

Shrugging, he lifted his glass in salute.

Jane's cheeks glowed brighter. Her hands remained tucked beneath the table, far from her own glass as he saluted her.

As they neared the end of the meal, Knightly appeared at his side. "All is in readiness. You best leave now if you wish to arrive by nightfall."

"Thank you, Knightly." Seth rose to his feet. "If you will excuse us. Jane and I must make haste." Jane looked sharply from Knightly to him. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Julianne chimed, her face glowing as she tossed down her napkin. "Although I did have a hand in it." She smiled pertly, a dimple denting one peaches-and-cream cheek. "You can thank me upon your return."

Seth shook his head at his sister's na?veté. She seemed to think a honeymoon the natural course of things. As though his marrying Jane were an anticipated event.

Even when he had reminded Julianne that Jane had been married before and would hold no expectations of a young starry-eyed bride, it failed to matter. To avoid disappointing Julianne, he had agreed.

"Come, Jane," he said, holding out his hand. "Let us be off." He watched, his gut tightening as the tip of her tongue wet her lips. "But my things—"

"Are already packed and in the carriage."

"I see." Squaring her shoulders, she gave a brisk nod, reminding him of men bracing themselves for the cannons of a marauding ship.