Mr. Harry Morant, Mr. Rafe Ramsey, Mr. Luke Ripton, and Mr. Nash Renfrew rose from their seats in unison. She blinked, not having seen them dressed formally before. Ethan Delaney would be upstairs, eating with the boys, she recalled. Gabriel had arranged for there always to be someone with Nicky.
“There you are, my dears.” Lady Gosforth, who was wearing olive-green silk and diamonds, swept forward. “Take your breath away, don’t they, dressed formally and en masse. You should have seen them in their regimentals. My dear, the palpitations! Every female from nineteen to ninety. Now come along, dinner awaits.” Commandeering Nash as her escort, she led the way into the dining room.
“I know I should have imported a few females to make up the numbers,” Lady Gosforth said as footmen came around the table, serving turtle soup from a silver tureen. She looked around the table with satisfaction. “But why dilute ’em, I say? Whets one’s appetite with all this masculine beauty at table, don’t you agree, Miss Tibthorpe?”
Tibby, who would never have thought of such a thing, but who, judging by her bright cheeks, was now considering the question, was spared an answer by Gabriel, who calmly changed the subject.
“It might interest you all to know that Princess Caroline and I will be getting married next Friday. Of course, you are all invited.”
Callie who had just forced herself to take a mouthful of turtle soup, choked. Under cover of patting her back and offering her a sip of his wine, he murmured, “Did I not warn you about that? It must be soon. Time is of the essence.”
Callie took a large gulp of wine and tried to recover her composure. “Yes, Friday,” she said as brightly as she could manage. She was aware of Tibby staring at her with dropped jaw and flashed her a bright smile. Tibby jumped up and kissed her, but the faint pucker between her brows told Callie she was still concerned. Alone of all of them, Tibby knew her true feelings about marriage.
There was a chorus of congratulations. Each of the men rose from their seat and came to kiss her hand. Lady Gosforth was torn between excitement and horror: excitement at her nephew’s approaching nuptials and horror at the timing.
She ordered the best champagne to be opened and in the same breath berated Gabriel soundly for “rushing the poor girl so that she has no time even to buy her bride clothes, let alone arrange any decent reception.”
He smiled at Callie and lifted her hand to his lips, the picture of lover-like impatience. His lips were firm and warm. “It will be just a small, private wedding,” he told his aunt.
Lady Gosforth’s eyes bulged. “Small and private?” She looked at Callie and stated, “You cannot want a small and private wedding.”
“Oh, but I do,” Callie assured her, “for I know so few people in London and a small, private wedding would suit me perfectly.” The smaller the better. She tried to ignore the way her hand tingled where he’d kissed her. She rubbed it surreptitiously on her napkin, as if she could remove it and somehow regain herself.
She was being stupid, she told herself. It was just a kiss.
“And a reception?” Lady Gosforth demanded.
Gabriel pursed his lips thoughtfully, then conceded, “Well, perhaps averysmall reception.”
Nash added, “With only one’s intimate friends and nearest relations invited.”
Lady Gosforth nodded. “Very well then, a small party on the following Tuesday, but with no notice at all, it will be positively meager, Gabriel, I’m warning you. It will, of course, be here.”
“Meager will do nicely, Aunt, thank you,” he said. Callie wondered why his eyes were dancing. As were Nash’s. Even Harry who had said very little, looked faintly amused.
Some family joke, no doubt.
“And you are truly happy with a hole-in-the-corner affair?” Lady Gosforth asked Callie.
“Oh yes. Thank you.” Callie smiled brightly. “Quite hap—very happy.” She could see the pucker between Tibby’s brow so she widened her smile, determined to convince her friend there was nothing at all to worry about. “I had a very big wedding once, when I married the prince of Zindaria,” she reminded them. “I would like this one to be different.”
Lady Gosforth sniffed. “It will certainly be different.”
They drank several toasts to the bride and groom in champagne and then, thankfully, the next course was brought in. Callie ate nearly everything that was offered to her and tasted almost nothing. Gabriel was very attentive, passing her dishes and offering her tidbits.
Acting, she reminded herself. It’s all acting.
Luckily no one seemed to expect her to make conversation. They all made plans. Plans for her wedding.
Lady Gosforth announced that she would take Callie and Tibby shopping in the morning. And “the boys” would entertain Callie’s son and Jim.
And Callie remembered there was something she had to do, before she could go shopping. “Can I see you privately after dinner?” she whispered to Gabriel.
His eyes warmed. “Of course. You can see me wherever you want.” He said it deep and low, as if arranging a lovers’ tryst.
“Shall we say in the library after the gentlemen have finished their port and joined the ladies?” she suggested in a low but businesslike voice. There was no need to pretend when nobody else could hear.
He lifted her hand and kissed it again. “I shall look forward to it.” His eyes caressed her. The place where his lips touched her skin seemed to throb. A shiver passed through her.
