Lord Farring, one of Rayne’s few friends who still treated him with some measure of affection, searched the room and spotted him. Rayne held his breath as Farring sauntered down the side aisle, joining him in the shadows.
“Hiding, are you?” Farring nodded to himself. “Too much froth, I suppose.”
“Quaint, you must allow.” Rayne rocked back on his heels. “Combativelyquaint.”
“Come, now.” Farring grinned, pushing up his tortoiseshell glasses. “Howcouldyou fail to delight? The scene’s so quintessentially English.”
“Quintessentially Southford, anyway,” Rayne corrected, referring to the name of Markham’s nearby estate.
Rayne’s estate—bleak, mostly abandoned, and far away in the rocky North—was equally English, but no one would call it delightful, quaint, orquintessentiallyanything beyond a blight. At least here, in the verdant South, Clarissa had a chance at happiness…a far greater chance than she’d had in the dark, musty shell she’d grown up in and he’d inherited.
Rayne lifted a brow. “Might I remind you that delight isyourforte, Farring? Not mine.”
“Oh? I’m not convinced your capacity isn’tcompletelyshriveled,” Farring answered with his usual buoyancy. “And, for Clarissa’s sake, I’d suggest you attempt to display a smidgeon of cheer.”
“Can’t.” Rayne glanced askance. “I’ve exceeded my daily allowance of pleasant expressions.”
Farring smirked. “I’ve missed you, you miserable ass.”
Warmth blossomed, but Rayne walled his heart. No point, after all.
He, Bromton, Markham, and Lord Farring had once been so frequently together in the gaming hells of London, they had been given card suite names: Rayne,Diamonds,Bromton,Spades, Farring,Clubs,and Markham,Hearts. Back then, Rayne had reveled in his childish nickname, truly believing the shadows bred into his blood could be masked by his twinkling diamond cravat pin, savoir faire, and friendships nothing could alter.
He’d been wrong.
The village boys flung open the doors as the Stanley family reemerged from the vestry. Together, the bride and groom proceeded down the aisle, followed closely by their family and other guests. Rayne tingled as Julia passed—a consequence of the chill spilling in from the outside…obviously.
He followed Farring to the top of the stair, shielding his eyes against the bright winter sun. At the center of the courtyard, Markham reached inside a pouch and, with a whoop, sent dozens of coins flying. The village children squealed as they scrambled to collect the bounty.
A small boy at the forefront of the crowd delivered his coin to Julia. She knelt down, thanked the boy with a tender smile, and then closed his chubby fingers, telling him to keep his prize. The child’s obvious disappointment vanished as she placed a kiss on his cheek.
Wrong—wrong—to be envious of a boy in short pants. But covetousness pierced Rayne just the same. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clarissa wave from an open landau.
After years of his neglect, he could not account for the fondness in her face. Clearly, she’d been infected with her new family’s exuberance. He returned her nod, his cheeks ever-so-slightly cracking.
“So, youcanstill smile,” Farring murmured. “I had wondered.”
Rayne quelled Farring with flattened lips.
The coachman jostled the reins, and the carriage set off in a cacophony of clattering pots. Clarissa snuggled close to her new husband beneath a blanket trimmed with fur.
“That’s that,” Rayne quipped.
Farring lifted his brows. “Howominouslyfinal.”
Final, yes.
Rayne accepted Clarissa’s choice for a husband as right for her, though a distinct coldness would always separate himself and Markham. The best he could do for Clarissa was advance his plan to depart.
Wedding breakfast. Apology. Restless night at the local inn. Mail coach north in the morning. A simple progression—ifhe kept his head.
Across the courtyard, Markham’s sisters prepared to leave as well. Julia headed down the path to Southford with an older woman Rayne did not recognize, while Katherine, heavy with child, leaned on Bromton, allowing him to lead her with great care to their carriage.
Clearly, Bromton was well on his way to completing his transformation from arrogant peer to devoted husband. Bromton just might have become—Rayne begrudgingly admitted—a better man. What Rayne had become, he wasn’t yet sure…nor could he comprehend how Bromton’s betrayal had led the man to such a contented end.
Mystifying. Just like everything else about this family and this place.
“May I ride with you to Southford?” Farring asked.
