“My comments are hardly unfounded,” the duke retorted. “You spent time in the garden alone together during Lady Dermond’s ball, returning unkempt and disheveled.”
“Gossip and innuendo, Your Grace. We were not seen by anyone in the garden.”
The duke compressed his lips. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” Meredith replied, as she boldly met his gaze. “Though you may not be pleased that I am now your daughter-in-law, at the very least you owe me and your son your support against those who would slander our good name.Yourgood name.”
Meredith’s rebuke was so surprising it shocked the duke into silence. Trevor watched in amazement as his father sputtered, then turned a deep shade of red. The marquess realized, with some amusement, it was the first time in his life he had ever seen his fatherblush.
The marquess gazed at his wife, and a sense of pride washed over him. If nothing else, his father must allow that he had excellent taste in women. She was poised, beautiful and in total control, a rare combination of elegance and feminine perfection.
“This is a family matter, miss. Nothing to concern your pretty head over.”
“I thank you, Your Grace, for the compliment about my pretty head.” Meredith, it appeared, was making no allowances for temper. She folded her arms beneath her breasts and stood at a challenging angle. “If you would please listen for a moment the marquees will explain everything.”
“Oh, will he now?” the duke asked, in a voice laced with sarcasm.
“Actually there is nothing to explain.” Trevor felt his own temper begin to rise. He would not stand here and be treated like a wayward child, nor would he subject his wife to such unpleasantness. “I asked Lady Meredith to marry me immediately, she agreed, and we decided today would be the perfect day. I am sorry if that offends you, sir, but it cannot, and will not, be changed.”
The duke’s body went stiff. The marquess swallowed the bitterness that rose to his mouth, then whirled around to leave. A part of him had hoped his father would accept this marriage, but that appeared vastly unlikely. Better to go while he still retained a modicum of dignity.
“May we stay for dinner, Your Grace?”
The soft tones of Meredith’s sweet voice rang through the room. Trevor opened his mouth to recant the request, but felt her fingers give his arm a strong squeeze. He watched the duke’s jaw work rebelliously and braced himself for the inevitable set down.
“My butler said you brought luggage with you. Seems to me you were intending to stay for more than just a meal.”
Meredith’s nostrils curled. “It would be rude to make assumptions or foist ourselves where we are not wanted. That is why I asked about the dinner party.”
“This is your home,” the duke said gruffly. “ ’Tis insulting to imply that a formal invitation must be extended.”
“My lord?” She turned to the marquess in a display of wifely deference that seemed genuine, though greatly out of character. Trevor found it oddly intoxicating.
He pushed his fingers through his hair, puzzled. Given the reaction to the announcement of their marriage, he would expect Meredith to bolt for the door the moment the opportunity presented itself. Yet for some reason she seemed determined to stay. “We would be honored to join you and your guests for dinner,” the marquess replied.
“The luggage?”
“And to take up residence in the mansion. On a temporary basis,” Trevor added.
A surge of relief and triumph flitted across the duke’s lined face. In that single moment of clarity the marquess realized something about his father that was almost shocking. The duke might not be pleased with this marriage, but he really wanted them to stay.
Yet he knew not how to ask, he knew only how to command, and that approach had never been successful with his equally strong-willed son.
“Dinner is at seven o’clock,” the duke announced. “I am an old man. I keep unfashionably early hours.”
“We shall be ready, sir.” Trevor turned to look at his bride with a thoughtful expression. “The early hour for dinner suits us admirably. After all, this is our wedding night.”
Meredith’s head snapped around. She stood perfectly still for a moment, her face inscrutable. Then she jutted her chin out and strode toward the door with a carefree attitude, as though his words were as casual as announcing they were serving roasted fowl for dinner.
For the first time in many years, Trevor smiled with true delight.
He caught up to her in the main foyer.
“You might have warned me,” she whispered beneath her breath as he grasped her elbow in a solicitous gesture.
“About what?”
“Your father.” She looked neither agitated nor angry by the omission, just slightly put out. “He does not like me.”
