“Owen—”
“Promise me this.”
He took her by the shoulders, and in that moment, he was the brother he’d been before the war. His grey gaze was focused, his posture alert. A man ready and able to protect the people he loved.
“Promise me you’re going to be happy,” he said solemnly. “The happiest of brides, as you deserve to be.”
Her voice quivering, she said, “I promise.”
“Then you have my blessing, little sister.” He kissed her forehead gently. “For what it’s worth.”
“Thank you, Owen. It means everything!”
With a squeal, she threw her arms around her brother, and heat pricked her eyes when he hugged her back.
“Enough of that.” He extricated himself. “Now that you’ve gained my approval, you have bigger problems to worry about.”
“I haven’t a worry in the world.”
She looked happily at him, then at Conrad, who smiled tenderly back.
“Really?” Owen asked. “What are you wearing to your wedding?”
Her eyes widened.
It is happening. Gigi is going to be mine.
As Conrad stood waiting for his bride by the darkening window, he was overcome with elation. Somehow, he’d captured the heart of the little nymph who was everything he’d fantasized about and more. For so long, he’d been focused on vengeance, and while justice was going to be undeniably satisfying, what he was feeling now was sweeter.
I am going to have everything.
Gazing around the room, he decided to give his staff a raise. With short notice, they’d managed to transform the drawing room into a hothouse bursting with bouquets of white roses and lilies, swathes of tulle and glowing candles adding to the romantic ambiance. The rector he’d hired stood at the ready, Bible in hand.
“You didn’t think to mention you’d found yourself a wife?” Redgrave muttered beside him.
His chief manager was serving as his groomsman. Redgrave looked like a brawler stuffed in his Sunday best. His greying beard was neatly trimmed, and a white rose was tucked into the buttonhole of his lapel.
“There was nothing to mention. Gigi hadn’t yet accepted my offer.”
“But you had offered for her, and you didn’t tell me.”
Conrad drew his brows together. “Are you sulking?”
“Grown men don’t sulk,” Redgrave retorted. “I just thought I’d earned your trust.”
“It is not about trust. It was a private matter. You know I do not like my affairs to be bandied about.”
“That is my point. You can trust me not to wag my tongue like a damned fishwife.”
“If I didn’t trust you, would you be standing with me at my wedding and holding the rings?”
Redgrave looked slightly mollified. “You have always held your cards close to your chest, Godwin. Been that way since you showed up at my office all those years ago, looking to be a winner. Even though I didn’t know the first thing about you, I didn’t regret shaking on that deal then, and I don’t now.”
“As I recall, your office was a tavern,” Conrad said. “You were three sheets to the wind and forgot you’d agreed to train me until I hunted you down at another tavern the next day and dragged your drunken arse to a boxing club.”
“Those were the days, eh?” Redgrave said fondly.
Although Conrad rolled his eyes, he felt a twinge of unease. He was in the habit of holding his cards close, and soon he would have to reveal some, if not all, of them to Gigi. The Grantley ball was in two days, and he’d planned to reveal his identity there. While he’d been focused solely on how his brother Robert would react, now he had to think of his soon-to-be wife.
