The clock had barely finished striking ten when her mother tapped lightly and entered the room. “Oh, my dear. I wish your father were here to see you.” Tears formed at the corner of her eyes, and she wiped them away.
“He would probably say, ‘At last.’”
They both laughed, and her mother wiped the remaining tears away. “Everyone is waiting, and Andrew is right outside the ballroom. Shall we go down?”
Anne linked her arm with her mother’s, and a bittersweet sadness seeped in that she would no longer rely on her mother to take care of all the daily tasks of running a household. The responsibility would lie directly on her own shoulders.
The prospect was both exciting and a bit daunting. Although her family’s home was ample and the estate prosperous, it was nowhere near the magnitude of estates such as Hartridge House, and presumably Blackthorne Manor. “Can I really do it, Mother? Be a viscountess and someday a marchioness?”
Her mother’s steps halted, and she gently took Anne by the shoulders. “You can do anything you put yourmind to. And Lord Manning will have a butler and housekeeper to assist. And although Kent is some distance, you can always write. I have every faith in you.” After placing a quick kiss on Anne’s cheek, her mother handed her over to Andrew.
Colin’s daughters held bouquets of pink roses accented with tiny, late-blooming sweet peas. Pale-green ribbons held back the girls’ chestnut hair, which was pulled back at the crown.
“Oh, Anne,” Cassie said. “Your gown matches ours.”
Indeed they did. Fashioned from the same shimmering pale-green fabric, the girl’s dresses complemented Anne’s perfectly, although not as elaborately styled. The band around the waist of Anne’s gown had been embroidered with pink roses. Mrs. Merrick had suggested the fabric, stating it was similar to the one she used for Juliana’s gown. The roses had been her signature touch.
Ellie stepped closer, a finger touching the embroidery. “And Father’s.”
Anne frowned.He’s wearing a gown?
Cassie laughed. “No, silly. His waistcoat.”
Oh, had she said that aloud? She would have to be mindful during the ceremony. Goodness knows she didn’t need Lord Stratford to find another reason to dislike her.
Miranda handed her a bouquet of the same roses and sweet peas the girls held, only larger, then drew her into an embrace. “Be happy, Anne. Lord Manning is a good man.”
Why did everyone keep saying that? Were they trying to convince Anne because perhaps hewasn’t?
The girls and Miranda filed into the ballroom, and Andrew held out his arm. “Remember what I told you about the stipulation in the marriage contract. You always have a home with us if you are horribly unhappy. Manning won’t stop you. However, I suspect all will turn out well. I know it’s not what you’d hoped for, but at least he’s not Lord Fairchild or, God forbid, Lord Middlebury.”
She couldn’t contain her laughter that, indeed, she had escaped that horrible fate, but the moment she entered the ballroom and caught sight of Colin standing next to Burwood on one side and arather disgruntled, rain-soaked vicar on the other, her breath hitched.
Not only was henotOscar Fairchild or Lord Middlebury, but he was possibly the most handsome man she’d ever lain eyes on.
Her hand shook as Andrew placed it into Colin’s, and her gaze drifted toward his waistcoat. Tiny pink roses decorated the points. Had he suggested it to Mrs. Merrick?
Rather than scowl at her, as he had when they first met, he smiled. But somehow it seemed...off. “Breathe, Anne. It will be over soon.”
What would be over? Dark images flitted in and out like specters as she considered his meaning. Then she turned to face the vicar, prepared to face her uncertain future.
CHAPTER 18
Colin’s heart lifted as his daughters practically skipped up the makeshift aisle. The happiness on their faces dispelled any doubt about his marriage to Anne. She would be a kind and loving mother to the girls and provide them with the joy sorely missing from their young lives.
Given the luxury of a choice, she wasn’t the bride he would have chosen, but he hoped, once they got past their differences, they would find the balance Mr. Beckham spoke of, and he vowed to do his best to be a good husband.
Believing he was prepared, he squared his shoulders before Anne entered. However, the moment she stepped into the ballroom, she proved him wrong. He pulled in a breath and forced himself to exhale. Unable to tear his gaze away, he took in every inch of her from the tiny pearls fashioned into her soft red curls, her freckled nose, her tiny waist encircled with embroidered pink roses, to the little cream satin slippers poking out from beneath the hem of her gown as she walked toward him on Weatherby’s arm.
He imagined removing each of those pearls from her hair and allowing the red strands to tumble down across her shoulders. Ofkissing each freckle and hoping more waited under the layers of her clothes—which he would enjoy removing piece by piece.
A sneeze from the drenched vicar brought him to his senses and reminded him where he was and for what purpose.
Before him, Anne placed a trembling hand in his. Her gaze darted to his, worry in her eyes.
As much for himself as for her, he forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Breathe, Anne. It will be over soon.”
Her eyes flared so briefly he wondered if he’d imagined it. His imagination did seem to be working excessively hard.
