“Who are those people?” he asked as he took his seat beside her and moved his sword out of the way.
“They’re the well-wishers. It’s become the custom amongst the peerage to throw coins to well-wishers as they drive away from the church.” Diana pointed with her bouquet to a small sack on the opposite seat. “It looks as though Marcus has provided you with some.”
“What do I do?”
“Lower the window and scatter the coins. They won’t go to waste.”
He did as she said, feeling like a fraud once again, giving away someone else’s money to celebrate his wedding.
Diana handed the cloak to Carson and took back her flowers from the butler. She looked around the foyer of the townhouse. “Soon I will be free of this prison.”
“Pardon?” her new husband asked.
“It’s nothing. Just talking to myself. You’ll think me mad, but I do tend to talk to myself rather often.” Please, Lord, let this be the last time I have to come into this house. Even now the maids were packing her belongings, readying them to be taken to her husband’s home. And tomorrow she would sign over her inheritance and take custody of Cian. Never again would they be under her father’s tyranny. She just had to get through the wedding breakfast today and the visit to the solicitor on the morrow, and she—and Cian—would be free.
In this, at least, God had answered her prayers.
“What are we supposed to do at this soiree?” Evan clasped his hands behind his back, his legs braced apart, as if awaiting orders.
Did he think he was still in the army?
“When the guests arrive, we greet them and then sit down to a meal. There will be a bride cake, and perhaps some speeches, though I don’t know if that will hold true in this case. I doubt my father will make an address.” And perhaps just as well if he didn’t.
She listened but could not hear the baby. Thank You, Lord. Please keep him quiet while the party is going on. Cian had been fractious since before dawn, and she’d had all she could do to keep him from being heard. She’d gotten him to sleep just in time to dress and leave for the wedding this morning, and it wouldn’t do at all for him to start squalling during the breakfast. But she had better peek in, just to be sure.
“I’ll just slip upstairs for a few moments. Carson, please show the earl to the ballroom.”
Upstairs, she eased open her dressing room door. Amid the boxes and cases of her packed belongings, Beth sat in the rocking chair, patting the sleeping baby in her arms, an empty nursing bottle on the low table beside her.
“Oh, my lady, how did the wedding go? Is it all done?” Barely more than a child herself, Beth’s eyes shone with hopeful romance.
“It’s done.” Diana exhaled. “The wedding was …” She stopped. How would she describe the ceremony? The groom had nearly fainted, and he’d completely forgotten to get her a wedding ring. Though he’d covered well, it was clear he had not come prepared. She glanced at the heavy gold ring, noting the stamp in the flat oval top. A crown, a bugle, and the number ninety-five. She had to bend her finger to keep it on at all. Later she would either return it to him or find some thread to wrap around the shank to make it fit better. Shaking her head, she cautioned Beth, “Keep him as quiet as you can. I’ll try to come up to say goodbye, but I don’t know if I will be able to.” She bent and kissed the baby’s downy head, her heart constricting at the thought of leaving him, even for one night.
A half hour later, Diana stood between her father and husband at the head of the receiving line. In keeping with his demeanor the entire week, her father radiated dissatisfaction with the situation, but he was punctilious, accepting congratulations and introducing his daughter to the haute ton who had attended her wedding without even knowing who she was.
Evan shook hands with everyone, but he kept shifting his weight, tightness around his eyes. Though it had been a rather small wedding by society standards, there were still many guests coming up the stairs to the first-floor ballroom. Clearly her father or Lady Cathcart had invited more people to the wedding breakfast than to the church.
Percival sauntered in, and in his wake, Viscount Fitzroy. Diana tensed. The last time she had seen the viscount, he’d been trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose, which still had a bit of a raw look to it. Her chest felt heavy, and her skin crawled at the sight of him. What had Percival been thinking, inviting him here? Had he also been at the church?
Diana caught herself edging closer to Evan and forced herself to stand still, hoping she wouldn’t have to speak to Fitzroy. She needn’t have worried. He and Percival bypassed the receiving line, not even glancing their way.
The Duchess of Haverly walked in, escorted by Marcus, surveying the ballroom. Large urns of flowers and ferns stood at intervals around the walls, and every sconce and chandelier had been lit. A long table covered in white cloth spanned the end of the room, and smaller tables with floral centerpieces and white chairs dotted the open space. Lady Cathcart had done a magnificent job. Diana’s father had spared no expense, since it reflected well on his image of himself to spend lavishly when others were looking.
Of course, he would be using her inheritance to pay for it, so she shouldn’t even be concerned with how much this might be costing him.
Finally, when all the guests had been greeted, they took their seats at the bridal table. This time Diana sat between Evan and Marcus, thankfully away from her father and brother.
“You look beautiful.” Marcus raised his glass to her. “Congratulations, and I wish you every happiness.”
She nodded her thanks. “Thank you. It’s all happened so rapidly, I can hardly take everything in.”
Eyes sobering, Marcus nodded. “You will need to have patience, but I believe you’ve gotten yourself a good man.”
“I hope so.” Did such a thing exist? A truly good man? She leaned back as a servant set a plate of food before her.
“What is this?” Evan asked softly.
“Tongue, aspic, Scotch eggs.”
“The eggs I recognize. But aspic?” He poked the jellied substance with his knife.
Diana nodded. “It’s quite the rage.”
“Do you like it?” He looked at her doubtfully.
“No, in point of fact, I do not.”
“Then why are we having it?” He set his utensils down.
“Lady Cathcart arranged the meal. And you must eat something, else you’ll hurt her feelings, not to mention what you’ll do to Father’s cook. She’s a woman of moods, and if she gets it into her head that you do not like her food, she’ll be impossible to deal with for a week.” In fact, she was the only one of the servants who openly stood up to her father, knowing that she would be hired in an instant elsewhere if he fired her. She was handsomely paid and ruled the roost belowstairs. Even Carson was a bit cowed by the woman.
Diana put a bite of aspic onto her fork and tasted it.
Evan laughed. “You all spend so much time doing what you think everyone else will think proper. You wear clothes you don’t like, eat food you can’t stomach, go places that bore you. What kind of a life is that?”
“Your life now,” she reminded him, washing the bite down with a sip of punch.