It was to be a small, intimate affair at Sussex Square just before Christmas, a double celebration that included the holiday, with only a hundred guests after my sister put her foot down.
Our great-aunt had originally planned for over twice that number. She was already making plans for a New Year celebration the week after for the hundred or so who would not be attending the wedding.
As the day drew closer, Lily had her final fitting for that new gown. I accompanied her for my own fitting.
Afterward we invaded Harrod’s. I called it an invasion, as it took hours, with time spent in each department before Lily decided on a wedding gift for my sister and James Warren
“What do ye think?” she asked. “Will they like it?”
‘It’was a glass table ornament, a foot-tall, remarkable glass elephant, reminiscent of our safari in Africa months earlier.
I thought it was magnificent.
“Absolutely,” I announced. My sister had wanted to accompany us on safari; however, she was in the throes of pre-wedding planning after Mr. Warren proposed.
I tried to convince her that the‘pre’ part of the wedding planning fell far short of the ‘after’wedding part of all of it.
“Good heavens, Mikaela. Surely you are not talking about...that.”
Thatwas precisely what I was talking about. From what I heard about that first go-round of marriage, as Brodie would call it,thatpart of it had been disappointing for her to say the least.
“Not to worry,” she assured me. “Thatis quite marvelous.”
She did have the ability to surprise me from time to time.
Rupert had settled into his after-inquiry status in the alcove with a new bed. I thought he deserved it. Although Mr. Cavendish was in doubt.
“You’ll spoil him, you will. It’s bad enough that he goes lookin’ for Mrs. Ryan’s cakes every time you come to the office.”
As for Brodie and the approaching wedding, I accompanied him to the tailor’s shop for his final fitting of a new suit. To say it had taken some persuasion was a mild understatement. He preferred his serviceable black coat and trousers or the costume he wore when out on the street, both quite unacceptable for a formal wedding.
“I canna see spending money for something I will only wear once,” he had grumbled, with a narrow eye on the establishment as we arrived.
“And I willna wear a man’s corset!”
Corset? I could personally attest to the fact that he did not need one.
While it was not customary for a wife or other woman to accompany a man to his tailor, it was the only way I could persuade Brodie. I waited in the salon while he was being fitted for the final time before the wedding, which was then three days away.
As we had no inquiry cases at present, I was making notes for my next book when he appeared in the private salon. To say that he was quite an admirable figure of a man was an understatement.
The suit was black with stripes on the grey wool pants, a gray satin vest, and white silk shirt, with a gray cravat. And the man in it glowered at me.
“I willna wear the bloody cravat. It’s a nuisance.”
At moments like this I had learned to ignore the glower as if nothing was amiss. I did have to admit though, that he cut a stirring figure. And I couldn’t resist.
“Oh, my,” I said, as I set aside my notebook.
“That is all ye have to say in the matter? The bloody thing is too tight.”
“Let me loosen it for you.”
That dark gaze met mine.
“The cravat,” he reminded me.
I smiled. Of course.
