The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories (29 page)

“Then we weren't fathers.”

“Hmm,” the duke murmured.

“I wonder what Raeburn will do when he walks into his salon only to find his beloved daughter being manhandled.”

He did flush then. So did his father. He couldn't imagine it—his child with Blossom.

“Enough of this,” Jase exploded, unable to stand it any longer. “I have submitted to your questions, I've been
honest about my feelings—now I want to know what is to be done.”

“The only thing that can be done, my boy,” Torrington drawled. “You're going to marry my daughter.”

Sagging, Jase sprawled out in the chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

“If…” the duke murmured, “my daughter agrees.”

She will. After what had happened in the salon, there could be no doubt in Blossom's mind the passion between them. She may not love him yet, but she would. He wouldn't stop trying to make her, until she did.

“I'll speak with her now. I'm quite certain the estate chapel can be readied within a day.”

“No,” Jase said, standing. “That's not the wedding of her dreams.”

“I doubt that matters now, Jase,” he father muttered. “There's no time for fairy-tale weddings and such. People are already murmuring about what the devil was going on in that study.”

“She'll be married the way she wants, on the bridge, overlooking the lake, with only immediate family and a posy of lilies. Something simple and intimate. That's what she wants. And I'm going to give it to her.”

Torrington nodded. “Fine. You'll spend the wedding night here.”

It was not a question but a command.

“No. Once we're done here, I'll make arrangements for a honeymoon. A cottage, in the Lakes.”

The duke's eyes narrowed. “You seem to have everything in hand, Raeburn, but you forget, my daughter has not yet agreed, and until she does, there will be no wedding.”

“I will speak with her now.”

“Not on your life. Weatherby, take him home. I don't want him near my daughter.”

His father reached for him, but something inside him snapped. “You'll not keep her from me, Your Grace. I mean to have her as my wife, and I will.”

“Do you really believe that I am impressed by this little speech of yours? Do you think it changes my mind about you, because you know what sort of wedding she dreams of and what type of damn flower she wants for a bouquet?” the duke thundered. “It means nothing to me. You have seduced my daughter, and have forced my hand. In case you haven't heard, Raeburn, I deplore manipulations, and while it might be the right thing to do, I won't have my daughter wed if she doesn't wish it. I don't care about reputations and other such nonsense. I won't have her living a miserable life because she lacked the where-withal to ignore the advances of a practiced seducer. So,” the duke snarled, “you will take yourself off and appear before me at one in the afternoon, and then you may have your answer.”

Dismissed. That was what he was. But what the duke did not realize was that Jase was every bit as stubborn as he was. He would not leave tonight with his tail between his legs, ashamed of what had happened. By God, he would see Blossom once more, and explain to her that she was the only woman in the world he wanted to marry. He had to tell her of his love, to make her understand that this was not a marriage of convenience.

 

“W
HAT COULD BE TAKING
so long?” Blossom muttered as she wore a path on the carpet of her mother's sitting room.

“Sweetheart,” her mother murmured as she gently took her arm. “Come and sit by the fire and have a drink. It will do you a world of good.”

“How can you be so calm!” she exploded.

“Well, I've had a few minutes to gather my wits—and
you would, too, if you had a sip of sherry. Another, Anaïs?” her mother inquired of Lady Weatherby as she held up the crystal decanter.

“Please, Jane.”

How could they be sitting on the settee sipping away on sherry like nothing was happening? Dear heavens, there were guests in the house, and here was her mother and Jase's mother hiding out in a private salon, drinking sherry!

“Dearest, your pacing is not going to make things go any faster. Your father, as you well know, will be finished with Lord Raeburn when he is good and ready and not a moment before.”

“What must he think of me?” she gasped as she collapsed into a chair.

“I should think that was obvious,” her mother murmured.

“Not Jase,” she snapped, “Papa.”

Her mother arched her brow and sipped her drink. “Two peas in a pod you are. I've heard that tone a time or two from your father.”

“Forgive me, Mama.”

Shaking her head her mother put her drink aside and captured Blossom's gaze. “It is not as though your father is a stranger to scandal, my dear. Far from it.”

“I don't want to lose his good opinion.” Or have him murder Jase, she silently added.

Reaching for her hand, her mother clutched her fingers. “I don't believe that there is anything you could do that would turn your father away from you. Besides, your papa is the least of your worries. What of Lord Raeburn?”

Blossom cast her gaze toward the settee where the marchioness was busy looking every place but at them. She was making a grand show of appearing not to listen, but Blossom knew she had her ears wide open.

“Mama,” Blossom muttered, which turned to a warning when her mother smiled.

“Blossom, you worry too much. It is only us in the room, three women, nothing more than that. There is nothing you cannot tell us. Believe me, we might have entertained a scandalous kiss or two in our time.”

Swallowing hard, she glanced away, unable to speak her true feelings.

“I believe I'll look for my husband,” the marchioness murmured. “Excuse me.”

Blossom watched Jase's mother stroll from the salon. When she reached the door, she hesitated and turned back toward them. “I must speak on behalf of my son. I realize he isn't like his brother, but he's worthy, Blossom. He'd make you an excellent husband. I…I cannot condone his actions tonight, but…I can understand them. You'll at least think on his offer, won't you, and not dismiss it out of hand?” Nodding, Blossom grasped her mother's hand. “Things have a way of looking much clearer after a good night's rest,” Lady Weatherby reminded her.

And with that she closed the door, and Blossom promptly fell against her mother, hugging her.

What in the world was she to do now? She'd been caught in a most compromising position, by her father no less. Damn Jase and his seductions. She was no match for him. Could not defend against such machinations…

No. She could not play the wounded virgin now. She'd been willing. More than willing. She had encouraged him, had all but dared him. Deep inside she had known what he would do when she challenged him about passion, and whether or not they would have it.

She had thrown the gauntlet and he had picked it up.

It was not entirely Jase's fault. But that said, she didn't want to be married because of a scandal. What woman did?

“Shh,” her mother soothed, hugging her tightly, “all will be well. You'll see.”

“I don't want Papa to force him to marry me,” she gasped. “I…I don't want that, Mama.”

“I know, darling. We'll figure something out.”

The tears that she had allowed to fall fell faster, until she was sobbing. Her body wanted Jase. Her heart wanted him, too. That young, tender love she had once felt for him had needed little encouragement to grow and flourish. While her heart and body desired him, her mind warred with her. Could she trust him? Would he only break her heart with his rakish tendencies? Was his pursuit of her out of desire, or a misplaced sense of honor and obligation?

Was she merely convenient?

“There is nothing so dangerous as passions, Blossom,” her mother whispered as she smoothed her hair back. “They make us feel alive, fulfill us, and make us soar. But they confuse us. Make us frightened because it changes who we are.”

Pulling away, Blossom blinked back the tears and tried to listen.

“You're just discovering that, I'm afraid. Nothing is easy when the heart and soul are engaged. Tonight, you followed where your heart led—and it led you to Jase.”

“But what if I'm just a convenient wife? What if he wishes to marry me because he desires to right a wrong he perceives his brother has done to me?”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“I don't know. At first, yes. But then…I don't know. What if, Mama, he took me to the salon and intended for us to be found?”

“I don't believe that for a second. That is not the action of a gentleman, but a desperate man. If you think matters
through, Blossom, you'll soon realize that there is no real reason that Jase needs to marry you. None but one.”

One reason. Desire? Or love? Desire was all well and good, but what happened when it waned? What would be left to sustain a marriage?

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” a footman said from behind the closed door. “But His Grace is wishing to speak with Lady Blossom in his study.”

“Mama,” she whispered. Her lip was trembling and her hands were shaking. “Come with me.”

Her mother's smile was full of love and acceptance. “Tell him what is in your heart, and everything will be well.”

She did not want to face her father. Or Jase. She wasn't ready to bear witness to her father's disappointment, and Jase's satisfied smile. He had wanted to marry her. Claimed he would stop at nothing to have her, and here she was, ruined in the eyes of society—the only remedy to marry him.

 

“P
APA
?”
SHE MURMURED
as she stepped around the study door. It was dark and gloomy; the only light was from the hearth. The embers were dying, but a spark flickered and illuminated the chair where her father sat, watching the flames.

“Come,” he ordered her.

She had never disappointed him. Had never given him cause to be ashamed of her. She had been his darling little girl and she felt sickened at the thought that she might lose not only his love, but his regard, as well.

Padding softly across the carpet, she stood before him, head bowed, hands folded demurely before her. He was looking at her. She could feel his cool, assessing gaze upon her. And then he reached for her hand, smoothed
his thumb along her knuckles, forcing her gaze up from her slippers and into his face.

“You've been crying?”

She didn't trust herself to speak. Her eyes were welling up once again and a small hiccup escaped her. So she nodded and bit her lip to quit it from quivering.

“Blossom—”

“Papa, I'm sorry,” she cried as she clutched his hand. “I don't know what came over me. I mean…I don't—”

“Shh,” he whispered. “There is no need. I understand completely. I am not so old that I cannot remember what it was like to desire someone so completely.”

“Mama.”

“Yes. Mama.” His smile was wistful, his eyes darkening like they always did when he spoke of her mother, or looked at her. “I want your happiness, Blossom. It's all I've ever wanted. You were minutes old when I held you and gazed upon you and swore that very thing to you. Tell me,” he asked as he squeezed her hand, “what will make you happy?”

“The sort of marriage that you and Mama have.”

“It has not been without pain, Blossom.”

“I know.” And she did. When she was old enough, she had been told their story. Theirs was a love against all odds. After witnessing such love, after experiencing it firsthand, how could she not wish for the very same thing?

“Is he what you want, Blossom?”

Was he? She hardly knew anymore. From the moment she saw him again, her heart had opened to him. Her body warmed for him. Every waking thought was of him, and every dream was about them—and the way she felt when she was with him.

She thought of what it would be like to never see him again. To turn from him and walk away. She thought of
him married to another. Him kissing and touching another woman the same way he had done to her tonight. Oh, God, the pain those thoughts evoked robbed her of breath.

“Well?” her father prodded. “Is he the sort of man you've always dreamed of marrying?”

“Yes, Papa,” she said through a fresh flush of tears. “It has always been Jase. I just made myself believe that I wanted something different—
someone
different.”

Her father held out his arms, and Blossom flew into his embrace. “He will be a good husband to you, and that is the only reason I will allow this. I don't give a damn about gossip or tittle-tattle among the
ton
and the servants. What I care about is you. Your happiness. Your future.”

He hugged her tight, and kissed her cheek. “I wouldn't part with you for anyone who I felt was unworthy, Blossom. You're too special to just give away to any man.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

“How I love you,” he murmured softly. “And how I will make him suffer if he hurts you.”

“Papa.”

“One day, sweetheart, Raeburn will be the father of your children, and he will sit in his study and hold his beloved daughter in his arms and say the very same thing to her. It is one of the reasons that I'm allowing this union. He's the sort of man I have always wanted for you—a man who will take care of his own. A man who risked your father's wrath and a host of insolent questions just to have you.”

“Did he really? Papa, you were hard on him.”

“Hard? My darling, I was rather easy on the fellow. Besides, it was a test, to see just how much he wanted you for a wife. After all, in taking you, he gets me. A most daunting thought for any perspective bridegroom.”

Laughing, she hugged him tight. “You are the best father a girl could ever have.”