“Or in this case, gets me out of trouble,” Millie said.
“Can’t truly be trouble if things turn out right in the end.” Lady Neville glanced over her shoulder and winked.
Millie grinned. She quite liked her bridegroom’s mother, far more than she thought she would.
Fortunately, she liked her son even more.
*
Though Neville andHarbury had long shared a cordial relationship, one some might even call close, Neville had never been inside the ducal bedchamber, either here or at Harbury Hall. The suite of rooms occupied the entire floor just above thepublic rooms below. The walls were gold gilded, the bed massive and old…both remnants from their grandfather’s day, Neville was sure.
But the huge bed did make Harbury look small, and, if Neville didn’t know very well that he was hearty and hale beneath the piled-on coverings, he would have believed Harbury quite ill indeed. The tiny spaniel prostrate at his master’s side and staring up at him with pensive look of pure devotion only added to the effect.
The Vicar had laid a makeshift altar across the table and had placed the parish register to one side. He was now standing, solemn and expressionless, his gaze fixed on the door. Harbury opened one eye, caught Neville’s gaze and stuck out his tongue.
Neville turned away, suppressing a smile.
He wondered if, right now, Gerard was arranging his things in a chamber on the upper floor that he’d share with Millie. He hoped the bed was as comfortable as the floors were thick. Their lives might have turned on a sixpence this week, but he’d been lusting after Millie for what felt like a lifetime.
At the very least, he was not going to have to sit through a wedding breakfast. Nor would Harbury be able to give him the kind of hearty backslap Neville, Asquith, and Adrian had delivered to him on Harbury’s wedding day.
The door opened, and Neville held his breath. But only Cassie and his mother entered. Harbury let out a long, low moan and they both rushed to his side.
Cassie put her hand on Harbury’s brow. “Any change, my love?”
“Not yet,” he said in a rough whisper. “I just—I’m just trying to hold on—”
Good God.
“My dearest wish is to witness my cousin joined in holy matrimony to my lovely sister-in-law. This terrible pain will besoftened by the knowledge my suffering has brought these two together.”
Neville fixed Harbury with a dead-eyed stare.
Harbury wiggled his brows.
His mother sniffed. “Such a good man you’ve always been.” She patted Harbury’s shoulder. “So noble. So brave.”
Lud, not his mother, too!They were all having too much fun.
“Hold on, my love.” Cassie arranged Harbury’s hair over his brow. “Millicent is waiting in the hall with Sarah.”
“Vicar?” Harbury called.
The young Vicar nearly jumped out of his trousers. Neville supposed he’d never before presided over nuptials not only at the wrong time of day, but in the bedchamber of a “dying” duke.
“I am ready,” he replied, sweeping his hand to encompass the makeshift altar and the parish registry he’d brought with him.
“Sister, dearest,” Harbury called. “Do come in.”
He heard what sounded like a suppressed snort, or, as he hoped the Vicar would interpret, a sniffle. Then, caught sight of a swish of lavender silk.The dress.
His heart dropped into his stomach.His beloved had worn the Delilah dress. Of course, she had. And though her expression was appropriately serious, anyone who knew her would see that her eyes were sparkling with their usual mischief.
He wasn’t sure how a garment that covered so much could also be so indecent, but—his gaze dropped—the slaughtering, prominent curve of her fully concealed, mouth-watering breasts had to be at least part of the cause.
Well, the joke was on her, because soon, he would be able to remove that dress at his leisure. And, in the process, give the word indolence a whole new meaning.
She stopped by his side and they both turned toward the Vicar.