Julia curtsied. “For naught, I assure you. My husband has seen to my comfort. But I cannot convey how glad I am to meet you, Lord Belhaven. And how excited I am to hear your news.”
Belhaven glanced fondly at Miss Watson. “Your sister and brother-in-law have been kind enough to allow Miss Watson residence so she can have the wedding she wishes. May we expect to see you? I understand the Grange isn’t very far from there.”
Rayne said “no” at the same time Julia said “yes.”
Their gazes locked. She knew Rayne and Bromton had yet to mend their rift, of course, but she’d thought, now that she and Rayne were to be married, Rayne wouldn’t—couldn’t—intend to keep his distance from his own brother-in-law.
Could he?
She thought quickly. “What my husband means to say is that we expect the Grange will, at first, require much of our attention and time. The manor was closed, you see, while Lord Rayne was abroad. But I,of course, would not miss your wedding for the world.”
“Thank you.” Miss Watson cupped her cheek. She exchanged another loving glance with Lord Belhaven. “Shall we leave the newlyweds to their repast?”
“Yes,” Lord Belhaven replied. “Yes, of course.”
“Do call at the Castle when you have the chance,” Miss Watson added. “But that’s unnecessary of me to ask, isn’t it? Naturally, you will visit your sister as soon as you are able.”
Rayne paled.
“As soon as we are settled,” Julia replied.
The couple completed their farewells and departed. Quietly, Julia closed the door. She rested her forehead against the jamb, feeling Rayne’s consternation pulse like a living thing.
“Why is it”—he found his voice—“that I can exit any room where you’re present, reenter, and find myself in a completely altered landscape?”
Just a diversion. A slightly altered path. Only the destination matters.
“Oh!” She swiveled around and smiled brightly. “Isn’t it heavenly? Miss Watson is to become Lady Belhaven after all! And, just like you said, she’s not elderly. Why, she looks almost young! An omen, I think. A blessing for our wedding day.” She spread her arms wide. “Love has done the impossible!”
“Love,” he repeated, searching her face.
She couldn’t tell if his tone was mocking or desperately daring to hope.
“Yes,love. Love that bears all things”—even enraged loved ones, as her brother was surely going to be, even if Bromton and Katherine seemed to have accepted her decision—“andbelievesall things”—like all would be well.
She caught his waist and rested her cheek against his chest. “They’re going to be happy. We’re going to be happy. And you and Bromton will be friends again.”
He did not contradict her. In fact, his resistance gave way. He rested his hand between her shoulder blades, holding her close—close enough for her to dare to believe her wildly optimistic suggestions could actually come true.
“Well,” he sighed roughly. “One thing’s for certain. It’s past time we make this official.”
…
Rayne gazed down at the rumbling waters of the river Stark as they crossed over the bridge into Scotland. Once again, he’d left England behind. But this time, his escape would be limited to a few hours.
Then he’d plunge straight into the heart of everything he’d avoided, this time with no possible escape. Julia. The Grange. The rest of the card suit—each a different facet of his past failures.
Good omen, indeed.
More like portended doom.
When he’d signed their names to secure tonight’s lodgings at The Bush—Lord and Lady Rayne—he’d been filled with a sense of rightness and anticipation. He’d placed the quill back into the holder, and wet, bubbled black ink dried into flat, indelible grey, and, there they were, respectably rendered in the book, no longer running, lying, and hiding, but clearly spelled out for anyone and everyone to see.
He’d been satisfied.
Even proud, for some incomprehensible reason.
But why? Because he’d managed to keep himself from acting the cad for the space of one whole morning? Because he’d had the sense to send the head waiter to inquire after the comfort of his wife? Men did such things without thought every day.
