“Whatever for?” Reggie asked, sounding quite surprised.
“I behaved like an insufferable arse, coming at you with all my demands. I am truly sorry for that, Reggie. You are a far better man than I was at your age. It was not right of me to expect perfection out of you when I had set a terrible example for you to follow.”
“Not at all. You have always been good to me. I needed a bit of a kick in the backside to grow up and prove my worth to you.”
“You have, Reggie. I ought to have recognized your abilities sooner.” Gawain shook his head. “Had our situations been reversed, you in charge and demanding I marry, I would have been an utter arse about it. Rebellious. Angry. Insolent. You are a lot nicer than I ever was.”
“I have no complaints about you,” Reggie assured him, his expression now serious. “I think you do not realize how much I love you. No one was kinder or more attentive to my mother as we realized she was dying. No one could have taken better care of me than you did. In all the months of her illness, you were there and made sure we lacked for nothing.”
Gawain shrugged off the compliment. “We are family. This is what we do for each other.”
“I want you to know that I will do the same for Cherish if ever it becomes necessary. Obviously, she can never rely on the Northam family. I have never seen lower forms of life than her uncle and his wife. Well, she will have all of us now to protect her from that odious pair. She and Fiona are already close as sisters.”
They marched out together and waited downstairs for the ladies to join them. As the minutes passed, Gawain began to pace.
“Uncle,” Reggie said, casually resting a hip against the ornate entry hall table and appearing far too relaxed, “you’ll wear a hole in the marble floor if you do not stop prowling.”
“What’s taking them so long?” Gawain muttered. “Cherish should have been down here by now.”
“I’m sure she would have been were it a normal day, but it is not. Everyone is fussing over her, making certain she looks her best.”
“She is already beautiful. I cannot look at her without her leaving me breathless,” he admitted, feeling particularly close to Reggie after their brief talk. “What more needs to be done? Andwhat is so complicated about putting on a gown? Or sticking one’s feet into slippers?”
Reggie chuckled. “For someone with your reputation when it comes to seducing women, you surely do not know much about them. But I suppose you know more about removing their clothes than helping to put them back on. Uncle, one must respect the ritual. It isn’t every day a young lady marries a duke. I’m sure there were scented bath oils involved, a relaxing soak in a tub. Not to mention Fiona will have her maid attend to Cherish’s hair so that it is styled to perfection.”
Gawain emitted a strangled sound somewhere between a curse and a grumble. “I’m going to take out every last pin from her hair the moment I get her alone.”
Reggie laughed again. “We all noticed how pretty she looked when confronting her uncle yesterday, that silky mane tumbling down her back in a riot of golden curls. I don’t blame you for having itchy fingers and wanting to plunge your hands in that glorious mass.”
“Reggie, good grief.” But Gawain grinned and gave a reluctant nod. “Despite my aged eyes, how could I overlook that?”
“You have the eyes of a hawk and very little ever escapes your notice.” Reggie suddenly straightened up and turned toward the staircase. “Look, here they come.”
Gawain’s breath caught in his throat.
Blessed saints.
He did not know what had been done to Cherish, but she looked like a princess gliding down those steps. Her gown was a mix of russet and gold that seemed to shimmer and float around her exquisite body. Her hair had been done up in an elegant twist and drawn back off her face, save for a few golden curls that lightly framed her graceful features.
Her smile upon noticing him shot straight to his heart. “What do you think, Your Grace?”
“You look beautiful.” He held out his arm. “Ready?”
She nodded as she walked to him. “Yes, although I still feel as though I am walking in a dream. You look so handsome.”
“Silver hair and all?” He knew Cherish did not see him as old and failing. He was hardly that. Nor was he a vain peacock to deny his age or fret about his scars and the care-worn lines on his face. Those were earned over years on the battlefield. He was proud of every scar and furrow. Still, there was no overlooking the fact he was not young.
Apparently love had a way of erasing flaws, because he did not think Cherish saw a single one of his.
As for Cherish, she was perfect for him in every way possible.
During his war years in Spain, he had come across a fortune teller who had set up a tent beside their encampment and offered to tell fortunes for a small fee. He had refused to allow his men to partake because he feared the old hag would give them false hope of survival and make them reckless in the throes of battle.
He was surprised when she did not get angry or put a hex on him. In truth, she took it in stride and offered him a bit of advice before she moved on. “Yours is a young and tempestuous soul,” she had warned him. “Your true happiness lies in finding the right complement to it.”
“What? An old soul?” he had shot back in all his arrogance.
“No, a wise soul. You are fire and she must be water.” What she really meant was that he was an idiot and needed someone smart to guide him.
