“They are here now,” Oliver’s grandmother said, lifting her cane and pointing it in the direction of the Brimleys. My mother-in-law sat on the pew on the other side of the aisle with Amelia’s extended family. By rights, I should join them, but Lady Gwendolyn held fast to my arm. “You will sit with me.”
One didn’t disobey a duchess, and I simply nodded. I wasn’t enamored of Lady Ellen on the best of days. Showing up late to her daughter’s wedding was an insult. They’d known about the event well in advance and should have come to the country with me instead of staying in the city until the last minute.
“You, Father,” Lady Gwendolyn said, waving her cane like a sword until she had the vicar’s attention. “Start the ceremony.”
He bobbed his head, genuflecting until I was certain he’d fall over in his eagerness to please her. “Start the music,” he instructed the pianist. The woman stretched her fingers over the keyboard as I assisted Lady Gwendolyn to sit.
The music echoed off the rafters, the late afternoon light a muted glow through the stained glass window. The rectory door opened, and Oliver entered. The black fabric of his coat outlined his shoulders to perfection. Tonight, he’d be bedding Amelia. Jealousy raised its ugly head, and I envied him the privilege. I had been where Oliver was, but unlike him, I had wanted to get Sally alone and make her my wife. Thoughts of Sally rioted inside my head, and I wanted to clear my mind, but there was still the matter of the dress.
All heads turned toward the back of the church as Amelia and her father walked down the aisle.
“Oh, how lovely she looks,” Lady Gwendolyn said, clapping her hands.
“Yes, very lovely.” I had been dreading seeing Sally’s dress again, but Amelia had it altered. The simple gown enhanced her generous bosom and nipped-in waist. She looked poised, regal, and confident. Other than the color, it hardly resembled the gown Sally had worn. It lacked the large frothy skirt that dwarfed Sally’s frail frame, making her look like a lace cupcake. The elegant lines of the altered gown suited Amelia as if it were custom-made for her. Before our wedding, Sally had been worried about the fit and refused to eat for a solid week. Hermother hadn’t helped by insisting she wear the gown, which made her reluctance to allow Amelia the same privilege all the more confusing.
Words were exchanged between the vicar and Brimley as he gave Amelia away. Oliver held out his hand, his chin lifted with pride. I was happy for them but envious of their union. Sally and I had exchanged the same vows, each with the hopes we’d spend a lifetime together. That had ended, and I was alone. No, not alone. I had my children and my family. I had Amelia and Oliver.
His suggestion to share his marriage bed and the reasons behind it still lingered in my mind. I wasn’t sure it was necessary. Oliver could very well go through with bedding Amelia and not give in to his fears. Knowing Amelia as I did, I knew if he did so, it would devastate her.
The vicar asked everyone to stand while Oliver’s sister, Lady Hortense, sang a song for the couple. Widowed, she had a rich voice and a very full bosom. She glanced over at me and continued with the ballad about love and how it was a blessing. It was also a curse. After she’d asked me about Ethan coming to visit William, she’d hinted rather broadly that she’d welcome an affair. She was a comely woman, but my eyes were on Oliver and Amelia. It was foolish on my part. I would be better off pursuing an affair with Hortense.
“My granddaughter has a decent voice,” Lady Gwendolyn remarked, casting me an appraising stare. I wasn’t about to fall victim to the bait.
“Yes, she has a pleasant soprano.” She was pretty and carried a strong resemblance to Oliver. However, she couldn’t hold a candle to her brother in one regard, my lust for him. He said he wanted to be buggered and damned if I didn’t wish to be the man to introduce him to such earthly pleasures. My imagination sparked, and I could picture Oliver bedding Amelia while I sank my cock into his arse.
All of that was predicated on if and only if Amelia agreed to such an arrangement. How to even broach the subject to a virgin would be the first hurdle, the logistics a close second. She hadn’t even been bedded yet, and while she was more progressive than many of her peers, she might still balk at sharing her husband with another, man or woman.
Hortense finished her song and resumed her seat. I strategically laid my prayer book over my lap, embarrassed by my semi-aroused state. I was in a house of God surrounded by people, yet the idea of Amelia, Oliver, and myself in bed continued to taunt me. The vicar began yet another prayer. I willed my body to behave, but my mind continued along the perverted track until I thought I could no longer take it. Growing impatient, I glanced at my pocket watch. The vicar droned on for another nineteen minutes. If he didn’t stop, we’d be here all night.
“I pronounce you man and wife,” the vicar said at last.
Lady Gwendolyn dabbed at the corner of her eyes, a smile on her quivering lips.
The couple walked down the aisle, smiling at the guests. I caught Amelia’s eyes first before Oliver turned the full bore of his stare on me. Anxiety brightened his eyes. He lowered his lashes and took his grandmother’s hand. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Lady Gwendolyn held out her hand to Amelia. “My wonderful new granddaughter. Welcome to our family.”
“You are too kind, Lady Gwendolyn,” Amelia said, a flattering flush spread across her cheeks. The gown enhanced the swell of her breasts, and I averted my gaze before I was caught staring, but damned if it wasn’t hard not to notice.
“Now, be off with you two. The sooner we return to the house, the quicker I can rest.” She hadn’t appeared overly tiredduring the ceremony, but her complexion was rather pallid upon closer inspection.
Oliver frowned, alarm lighting his eyes. “Are you unwell? Shall I call a doctor?”
“No, my boy, I will be fine, so stop fussing.” She waved him off with an impish light in her eyes, angling her chin. The young woman she once was shone through. “Your bride awaits you.”
Amelia suppressed a grin at the older woman’s less than subtle brush off. Lady Gwendolyn was used to getting her way. No matter how frail she appeared on the outside, she had a will made of iron, rather like her new granddaughter-in-law. I envied Oliver his night with Amelia and prayed he didn’t second guess himself. At nineteen, he wavered between being a man in charge of his own destiny and a youth still feeling his way in the world.
By the time I was his age, I had bought a naval commission and was gaining my sea legs. The ocean hadn’t been kind to me at first, but eventually, it was more friend than foe.
“I only agreed to a large wedding because you promised not to overtax yourself, Grandmama. Noah will see you home.” Oliver met my stare, stubborn determination in the jut of his jaw. “And I insist that once you arrive, you get some rest. Tomorrow will be an eventful day.”
“I can rest now that I know you are married. However, I won’t truly be able to rest until you give me a great-grandson to carry on the family line,” she said with a mischievous chortle.
“Grandmama,” Oliver said, blushing at her inference.
Amelia glanced down at her feet. I took pity on the couple. “Perhaps you should take the carriage to the house. I promise I’ll follow behind with your grandmother.”
“Thank you, Noah,” he said, and with a nod, he and Amelia went out the front door. I waited for Lady Gwendolyn to stand and steady herself. The couple was starting their bright future together. Mine had ended the second Sally died.
