But she was exquisite in her white bridal gown, so touchingly delicate, while in no way fragile, her slender back straight as a poker. Mercy stirred many feelings in him, some of which surprised him. He’d always found her beauty seductive. She could stir his loins with a glance, but more than that, he admired her intelligence, her lively spirit, and her complexity, although he could see those qualities would make his life more complicated. She was profoundly interesting. He wanted very much for her to love him. She didn’t yet, he was well aware of that.
He repeated the words…”have and to hold from this day forward…thereto I plight thee my troth.”Grant slipped the ring on her finger and gazed into eyes so blue, a man could get lost in them.
“I pronounce you man and wife.”
Grant lowered his head and pressed a brief kiss on Mercy’s mouth. “I shall endeavor to be a good husband,” he murmured.
“And I a good wife,” she replied with a remarkably meek smile.
He took her hand before they made their way into the vestry to sign the register.
The wedding breakfast was a marvel of organization, considering how little time the Baxendale’s had to prepare.
At the first strains of Haydn, Grant swept his bride into a waltz, and moments later, other guests joined them on the dance floor.
Did he see something close to deep longing in Mercy’s eyes? He wanted very much to respond, but her lashes lowered and when she glanced up again, the expression had vanished.
She smiled politely at him. “Your grandfather appears to be enjoying himself.”
He looked at where his grandparent held court surrounded by several men. “He relishes company. It’s a pity he no longer can endure long carriage trips. I hope to hold shooting parties at Thornhill and perhaps a hunt ball in October.”
“He will enjoy that, as will your father.”
His brow creased. “Father held them every year at Summerfield.” He spun her around. “Have I told you how lovely you look?”
Mercy laughed. “Yes. Several times.”
He tightened his hand at her waist. “And that I’m impatient to have you all to myself?”
She flushed. “I believe you have, sir.” She nodded at the decorations and urns of flowers scenting the air of the reception rooms which had been opened to form a large room, the carpets taken up for dancing. Waiters moved through the guests serving champagne and negus. “Today has been perfect.”
“It’s not over yet,” he said and was rewarded with a shy smile. “I should add that your sisters look quite lovely in their shades of pink.”
Mercy smiled. “Robin has likened us to roses, from the palest to the deepest hue.”
“Most appropriate.” Grant grinned. “But as lovely as roses are, they can prick you if you’re not careful.”
She tilted her head. “Are you suggesting I would rebuke you for some apparent slight?”
“Only over something I’m sure I deserve.” He laughed, determined to keep things on an even keel. Tonight, he would do nothing to stoke those fires he knew still burned in her breast. He led her over the floor enjoying how light she was in his arms. There was plenty of time to deal with their differing opinions and desires. The future excited him more than he’d thought possible. To be part of a big warm family which welcomed him with open arms, and to have this lovely girl as his wife.
“It’s wonderful to see Edward and Vaughn’s elder brothers, Bartholomew and Chaloner here,” she said when they slowed. “And Bartholomew’s wife, Emily. Bart’s parish isn’t far from York.”
Mercy smiled at Sibella as she danced past with her husband, the Marquess of Strathairn. “Sibella and John’s country estate is not far from York.”
He smiled down at her. “So, society won’t be so dull here in Yorkshire.”
“You thought I was reluctant to live here?”
“Well, apart from your sister in Northumberland, most of your family live in the south.”
“We are all scattered. With Hope the farthest away in France.”
“Then we must travel to France and visit them.”
Her lovely eyes lit up. “Could we? I should like that very much.”
“After their babe comes, perhaps.” Pleased to see her happy, he led her from the floor.
