Sudden regret shot through him. There wouldn’t be a wedding night.
And he wanted one. He wanted to explore every nook and cranny of her kiss and find out what more it offered, where it could lead…
He stopped himself there.
The kiss could lead nowhere.
He’d made a promise, one he would keep, even if it killed him.
“Shall we dine?” Mariana asked. “Join us for a celebratory supper tonight.”
“Thank you for your offer, but we—” Hortense began.
“We have other plans for the evening,” Jamie finished. Nick and Mariana gaped in unison, and he knew what they’d assumed in an instant. “Not like that.”
Next, their brows furrowed. If notthoseplans, then what?
It was Nick who spoke next. “Dear brother, please explain.”
“We have a previous engagement.” Jamie was employing the aristocratic hauteur that so drove his little brother mad.
“With whom, pray tell?” In turn, Nick had adopted the infuriatingly patient tone that did naught but reveal his deep impatience with the subject at hand and dig beneath Jamie’s skin.
“A supper party at Apsley House.”
“You’re choosing to spend your wedding night with the Duke of Wellington?” Nick sputtered.
“That oldroué?” Mariana added for good measure.
“Indeed, we are,” said Jamie.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “What precisely isthisall about?” He waved his arm to include the chapel and the bishop, who was now halfway down the aisle. The man gave an indifferent wave of farewell, and said, “Everyone sign the register at your convenience. Have it delivered by morning.”
Jamie opened his mouth to instruct his brother to mind his own business, when Hortense beat him to it. “Nick, it doesn’t concern you.”
“Like hell, it doesn’t,” Nick protested.
She didn’t bat an eyelash. “Husband,” she said, turning toward Jamie, “I believe you and I shall be late, if we do not leave soon.”
“Don’t forget your gloves, Lady Clare,” Mariana chimed in, placing a staying hand on her husband’s forearm. Nick’s eyes had gone the hue of a thundercloud. “And be sure to put your ring on the outside of the glove. When one is in possession of a sapphire visible from the moon, one wants to throw it in everyone’s faces, just a little.”
With that parting message, Mariana dragged Nick from the chapel, but not before Nick tossed Jamie one last glower that said this wasn’t over.
Which left Jamie alone with Hortense.
Hiswife.
An awkwardness pervaded the air between them.
“Mariana called me Lady Clare,” she said, stunned.
“That is who you are now.”
She blinked, picked at the blue silk of her skirts. “This dress…”
“It’s perfect on you.” He could say more, but he would leave it at that.
“And the ring…”
