Griff arched an eyebrow at his wife and in a voice heavy with innuendo, replied, “I disagree.”
“Little girls don’t—”
“Perhaps not,” he admitted, “But you and I have become the closest of friends since I drew blood from you.”
“Griffin Abernathy!” His blatant sexual intimation in Gillian’s presence surprised his wife. “I’m shocked that you would say such a thing with Colin’s bride in earshot!”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “Surprised, perhaps, but not shocked.” He looked at his wife. “I’ve done far more shocking things in your presence—and you know it.”
Alyssa giggled at the memory of some of the more shocking things he’d done in her presence. “You’re right,” she told him. “I’m surprised that you would say such a thing in Gillian’s presence and—”
“And...” he prompted.
“I’m surprised you have scars of which I’ve been unaware.” She took her husband’s right hand and kissed his palm. “I thought I knew them all intimately.”
“I keep a few in reserve,” Griff teased, “just to keep you guessing, because you seem to enjoy searching for them.”
“You enjoy the search every bit as much as I do,” Alyssa reminded him.
Gillian blushed at the easy intimacy between the duke and duchess. It was clearly apparent that theirs was a love match, and Gillian couldn’t suppress a twinge of envy. They shared the sort of companionship she always hoped she would have with the man she married. Unfortunately, that sort of camaraderie had been impossible with the first man she’d married. But now that she’d been given a second chance, Gillian prayed she might one day share the same sort of loving relationship with Colin McElreath.
“Now, see what you’ve done,” Alyssa pretended to admonish her husband. “You’ve made Gillian blush again.”
“Brides are supposed to blush.” Griff’s eyes twinkled when he turned to look at Gillian. “That’s why they call them blushing brides.”
“But I’m the man who is supposed to make this one blush,” Colin interrupted, coming to stand beside the bride in question.
“Then we shall leave you to it,” Griff said, glancing around the room, gauging the number of people present. “While Alyssa and I say hello to our parents and seek a less congested corner of the room.”
“We’ll be back shortly,” Alyssa promised. “But we’ve monopolized the bride long enough. There are loads of people you need to speak to, and well...”
“My mother-in-law is beckoning.” Griff lifted Gillian’s hand once again and brushed her knuckles with his lips.
Alyssa sighed. “She’s my mother and I love her dearly, but she still insists on showing Griffin off as if he were her own personal trophy.”
“At least she likes you,” Colin teased.
Griff laughed. “Now that I’ve become a duke, Lady Tressingham thinks I walk on water. Amazing what an elevation in title can do. I remember when she despised the sight of me.” He shrugged. “A word to the wise: You don’t just marry a person, you know, you marry the family as well.”
“Don’t scare her off,” Colin warned. “For I’m about to introduce Gillian to mine.”
“Just smile,” Alyssa told her. “And you’ll do fine. Lady McElreath is very nice, and Lord McElreath is…” She thought for a moment. “Engrossed in cards, but at least he offers useful advice. All my parents ever talk about is—”
“Breeding,” Griff replied.
“Pedigrees,” Alyssa countered. “Those listed in Debrett’s and those listed in the annals of horses and hounds. And I don’t know which is more boring.”
“Come along,” Griff urged, “before we become equally boring.” He reached for Alyssa’s hand. “Many happy returns, Lady Grantham,” Griff said to Gillian before he pulled Alyssa into his arms and kissed her soundly.
“Thank you, Griff,” Gillian answered, smiling as a blushing Alyssa tucked her hand in the crook of Griff’s arm and steered him toward a waving Lady Tressingham. Gillian sighed.
“They’ve been married two years,” Colin explained, “but they still act like newlyweds.”
“I don’t mind,” Gillian said. “I think it’s very nice. And very encouraging.”
Colin gave his bride a warm smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Gillian leaned against him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and Colin automatically placed his hand at the small of her back to steady her.
“Tired?” Colin asked.
“A little,” she admitted. “Everything has happened so fast, and it’s all been a bit of an ordeal.” Realizing what she’d said, Gillian looked up at Colin to see if she’d accidentally insulted him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean marrying you has been an ordeal,” she added hastily. “Just that everything leading up to it has been.”
“No need to apologize,” Colin told her. “I understand. Yesterday I was a sworn bachelor, and today I’m a married man.” He turned to Gillian. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s just that I don’t know quite what to expect next.”
He wasn’t complaining. He was being completely honest with himself and with her. When he’d come to this house to meet with her father yesterday afternoon, Colin hadn’t expected his way of life to change. Oh, he admitted there were times when he longed for a real home, a wife and children—perhaps a spaniel or a wolfhound to sleep beside the hearth—but deep down, he had known that that sort of life was impossible for a man in his position, for a poor viscount who relied on the largesse of his friends and colleagues and who excelled in the secret art of war.
Colin took a deep breath. The scent of Gillian’s perfume filled his nostrils—a warm and compelling scent of lemons and orange blossoms and musk—that drew him. Much like Gillian seemed to do. Gillian. His wife.
Colin smiled. He hadn’t thought about marriage in relation to himself since Lord Kelverton had put Esme out of reach. If he longed for someone to love, someone to come home to, and someone to call his own, Colin never acted upon those longings. He had simply put them aside and refused to question why. He had the Free Fellows League and his work, and that was enough. Until fate—in the form of an unknown impostor—had placed Gillian Davies in his path.
The impostor had assumed Colin’s secret identity and pretended to marry Gillian, but Colin had done him one better. He had married her, and the knowledge gave Colin a particularly warm feeling inside. It filled the place in his soul that had been empty for so very long... For the first time in years, Colin believed he might have a future beyond the war with Bonaparte, that he might have a reason to stay alive.
“I wish I could promise that this will all be over soon.” He nodded toward the crush of people still waiting to speak to the bride and groom. “But I don’t know how long it will last. Or what comes next. My friend, Shepherdston, has offered us his country house for a honeymoon, if that’s agreeable to you. As for the rest of it...” He shrugged. “I don’t own a home in which to take you or a threshold over which to carry you.”
Gillian studied Colin’s face—the way his blond brows framed his mesmerizing green eyes, his perfect nose, his mouth and the pout of his bottom lip. Gillian stared at his mouth. Colin McElreath was her husband now. Less than an hour ago, he had stood beside her and solemnly promised to love, honor, and cherish her. Then he kissed her so tenderly she thought her heart might break.
She smiled shyly at the memory of his kiss. What would it be like to have him love, honor, and cherish her with his body? Gillian blushed at her thoughts. A fortnight ago, she’d hoped she was done with that part of married life. She had hoped she would never have to endure the pain and the mess and the embarrassment that came with the marriage bed again. And now she was contemplating a honeymoon with a man who, although legally her husband, was little more than a stranger. Gillian wondered suddenly how she could think of sharing Colin McElreath’s bed on the basis of their brief acquaintance and one sweet kiss.
But she was. And the idea was as appealin
g as it was alarming. “Perhaps it would be best if we concentrated on taking one step at the time,” she suggested. “And not look too far ahead.”
He had hoped for more, but Colin recognized the wisdom of taking things slowly. Colin stared down at his bride. Her face was so guileless and her thoughts so apparent. A few short weeks ago, Gillian Davies had fallen in love. She’d had romantic dreams of love and marriage and had risked everything by eloping and sharing a honeymoon with another man. She had no way of knowing that the man with whom she eloped was a charlatan or that he’d married at least two other women in as many months. Now she was facing the reality of marriage to him. And the possibility of sharing a marriage bed with a near stranger. It didn’t matter that her marriage to him was legal. Colin was a stranger, and he knew that being married to him would take a little getting used to, especially since she gave every indication of being in love with someone else. Colin sighed. He wasn’t a normally patient man, but he would try.
“Fair enough.” Reaching down, he took Gillian’s hand in his. “And the first step I need to take is to introduce my bride to my mother, father, and brothers and sisters, so they can welcome you into the family. Ready, Lady Grantham?”
Gillian took a deep breath, followed the Duchess of Avon’s advice, and smiled.
Chapter Seventeen
“And then to breakfast with
What appetite you have.”
—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
King Henry VIII
Gillian smiled as Colin introduced her to his mother and father. “Maman, Father, may I present my bride, Gillian?”
Gillian curtsied to the earl and countess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
“The pleasure is ours, my dear.” The earl lifted Gillian’s hand and brought it to his lips.
Her father-in-law had once been as handsome as his eldest son, but years of hard living had left their marks. The earl’s skin was pasty white, his face and jaw bore signs of acute dissipation, and his eyes were bloodshot and drooping. He had dressed for the wedding in a well-tailored tailcoat and striped trousers, but the careful tailoring couldn’t hide the paunch that too many late nights, too much rich food, and too little physical exercise had caused. Now, the Earl of McElreath stank of brandy and tobacco and bore only a passing resemblance to his handsome son. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gillian answered, smiling at Lady McElreath. “I’m honored to be a part of the McElreath family.”
“We are honored to have you,” Lady McElreath added. “May I present my daughters, Liana and Caroline?”
The girls curtsied. “Lady Grantham.”
“Please, call me Gillian.”
“Gillian,” they replied in unison.
“Oh, Maman, look at her betrothal ring!” Liana, the oldest daughter, nudged her younger sister in the arm and pointed to Gillian’s left hand. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Gillian held out her hand, offering Liana, Caroline, and Lady McElreath a better look at the pink sapphire surrounded by the perfectly matched diamonds.
Lord McElreath leaned forward and studied the ring. “That beauty must have cost a pretty penny.” He threw his son an accusing glance.
“The price is of no concern,” Colin replied coolly. “It was a wedding gift for my bride.” He glanced at Gillian. “A token of my affection and esteem.”
“The price is of great concern,” Lord McElreath contradicted, “when you spend a fortune on your bride’s ring but refuse to help your father with his debts.”
“She was well worth the cost,” Colin reminded his father. “Especially when I’ve so little else to offer.”
“You just gave her an old and honorable title as the Viscountess Grantham,” Lord McElreath pointed out.
“The title is an honorable one,” Colin agreed, looking his father in the eye. “Unfortunately, it’s attached to a mountain of family debts I didn’t incur.”
“There’s no call to be rude to your father,” Lord McElreath admonished.
“And there was no call for you to be rude to my bride on her wedding day.” Colin dismissed his father and leaned forward to kiss his mother on the cheek. “Thank you for coming, Maman.” He nodded toward his sisters. “And for bringing the family.”
Lady McElreath turned to Gillian. “Please excuse Lord McElreath. He’s not at his best. He had a very late night last night and was not prepared to attend a wedding this early in the morning—else he wouldn’t have acquired an aching head.”
“I’m sorry about Father’s aching head,” Colin said, “but an aching head doesn’t give him the right to behave like a cad in the presence of his new daughter-in-law.”
“Your father is no cad,” Lady McElreath said softly. “He’s a gentleman.”
“Then he should remember to behave like one.” Colin glared at his father before turning his attention back to his mother. “If you will excuse us, Gillian and I have other duties to attend to.”
“I understand,” Lady McElreath said. “And I wish you much happiness on your wedding day and every day, Colin and Gillian.”
“Thank you, Lady McElreath,” Gillian replied.
“Yes, thank you, Maman.” Placing a hand at the small of Gillian’s back, Colin steered her away from his parents and over to their table.
“A pleasure meeting you,” Gillian called over her shoulder.
“That went rather well, don’t you think?” Colin said as they reached the relative quiet of their table.
Gillian surprised him by giggling at his dry attempt at levity. “Your father disliked me on sight. Your mother is reserving her judgment as to what sort of wife I’ll be. My betrothal ring sparked an argument with your father but made a good impression on your sisters—so I think, on the whole, it did go rather well.” She paused. “Better than I expected.”
“I find it hard to believe that your expectations are so low,” Colin said. “Tell me, Lady Grantham, is that generally the case? Or did you make an exception for the meeting with my parents?”
Gillian laughed once again. “I made an exception for your parents.”
“Really?” Colin arched an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “And why did you believe that was necessary?”
“I assumed that your parents, like most parents, wanted only the best for their son and heir.” She looked up at Colin. “And that they would naturally be disappointed to learn he had settled for less.”
Colin frowned. “My parents believe I married for reasons of infatuation, if not for love.”
“How?” Gillian began. “We only met two days past.”
“Infatuation only takes a moment’s glance,” Colin said. “But I told my mother I met you weeks ago while you were visiting relatives in the border country.”
“But your father...”
Colin seemed to read her mind. “My father’s behavior had very little to do with you or with our wedding. He was rude because he’s ashamed.”
“For appearing foxed at our wedding?” Gillian asked.
“For having to appear anywhere when he’s not at his best.” Colin sighed. “And he must save his best for the gaming hells, because we’ve not seen it since Gregory was born.”
“Gregory?”
“My youngest brother.”
She looked up at Colin. “How many brothers have you?”
“Two.” Colin told her. “Malcolm and Gregory. There are five McElreath children. Three males and two females, of which I am the eldest.”
“Why didn’t I meet your brothers?” Gillian asked. “Didn’t they come?”
“Oh, the young hellions are here somewhere,” Colin warned. “I saw them swarming around Griff earlier. But...” He glanced over at the floor-to-ceiling windows where Griff and Alyssa stood.
“Are you as rich as Papa says?” a small voice demanded.
“Speak of the devil.” Colin looked down to find his youngest brother, eight-year-old Gregory, tugging on the end of Gillian’s veil. “Rudeness must run in
the family today,” Colin said by way of explanation. “Lady Grantham, may I present my youngest brother, Master Gregory McElreath?”
“Gregory.” Gillian held out her hand.
“Gregory, it’s customary to bow in the presence of a lady, and this lady is your sister-in-law, Gillian, Lady Grantham.”
Gregory bowed. “Well? Is it true? Are you?” he asked again, returning to the subject he found most intriguing.
“I don’t know,” Gillian answered. “How rich does your papa think I am?”
“Papa says you’re rich enough to cover all his chits with coin to spare.”
“Nobody’s that rich!” Ten-year-old Malcolm said in a weary voice wise beyond his years.
Colin bit back a smile. “Lady Grantham, may I present my other brother, Master Malcolm McElreath?”
She nodded, and Colin continued his introduction, “Malcolm, may I present my wife, Gillian, Lady Grantham?”
“How do you do, Lady Grantham?” Malcolm bowed politely.
“Very well, thank you,” Gillian replied.
“Are you rich enough to cover all of Papa’s chits?” Gregory persisted.
Gillian turned to Colin. “What are chits?”
“Gaming debts,” Colin answered.
“Doesn’t your papa have chits to cover?” Gregory asked.
Gillian shook her head. “My papa doesn’t gamble.”
Gregory’s eyes grew big as saucers. “At all?”
“No.”
“Then what does he do when he goes to his club?”
“My papa doesn’t belong to a club,” Gillian answered.
“How does he spend his time?” Malcolm asked.
“He goes to his office at Davies Silk and Linen Importers.”
Malcolm was shocked. “He’s in trade?”
“He’s a silk and linen merchant,” Gillian said. “He has a fleet of ships that sail the trade routes to China and the Orient, the East Indies, Africa, even the Americas.”
“I thought he was a baron,” Malcolm said.
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