Page 113 of Give Him a Chance

Why hadn’t Percy or Benjamin mentioned this? She’d thought the trio as thick as thieves.

“He won’t starve,” Aunt Edie said. “He’s got an independent income of his own—”

“All that does is make it financially possible for him to go!” wailed the viscount.

All of this sounded fascinating, and Lucy was in half a mind to rise from the sofa that Stanphrey Lacey’s butler, Bradbury, had had put out onto the lawn and ask precisely what they meant by that, when her aunt put a hand on her husband’s shoulder and pulled him to his feet.

“Croquet for you, dear,” she said fondly, leading the muttering man away from the gaggle.

“Immigrate—what is the man thinking of?!” The viscount’s voice grew quieter and quieter as he moved away. “Why would he want to leave? What have we done…?”

A hand closed around hers.

“Lucy,” murmured Bertram.

And Lucy melted.

Not because of the heat, though it was one of the hottest days she could remember. She had been worried the service would be unbearable, but as it was, the little church in Stanhampton had been wonderfully cool, and the marriage service had continued without a hitch.

Marriage service. I am married.

Lucy beamed into the eyes of the man seated beside her. Bertram Moray, Viscount Moray. Not the name she had fallen in love with, certainly, but it was the man.

Bertram. He loved her, adored her, and better than that, he understood her. He knew what it was to serve one’s country. He knew what it was to look around and realize that not only did the world have to change, but that he could be the one to help change it.

And he fought his fears—they had slipped out only last night to go swimming in Stanphrey Lacey’s lake.

Well.Sheswam. He paddled, coming up to his knees and deciding that that had been enough for today.

But he’d faced that fear with her, because he loved her.

Lucy beamed, affection welling up within her. “Bertram.”

“Are you going to finish that?” He nodded at the plate of almost-consumed wedding cake in her hand.

“You take it. I don’t think I can eat much more sweet.” She groaned, handing it over to him.

It had been her father who had insisted she get married wherever she wanted, and though Lucy had considered Brighton, it held perhaps too many complex emotions for a day of such pure happiness.

No, it was Stanphrey Lacey that was at the core of the family, and it had been decorated beautifully for the occasion. Lucy hadmarveled at the hard work that had gone on to ready the church, but it was at the house itself where the staff had truly excelled. The lawn by the terrace at the back of the house had been transformed with marquees, blankets, cushions, and chairs, a scattered set of sofas and armchairs carried from the house, and little console tables for the family and her guests to place their champagne on when they weren’t playing croquet or watching the children run about happily with strawberries smeared across their faces.

Lucy beamed. And of course there was the large trestle table holding the petition that she had encouraged the Prison Reform Society to put together. After all, there were near two hundred people attending her wedding, the great and the good, and so what if she wanted to use that opportunity to gain a few hundred more signatures?

The sun beamed down upon Stanphrey Lacey and Lucy sighed as she looked out at all the people she loved, all together in a place that she loved.

She could think of no better way to formally include Bertram within it than to be married from this house.

Although now that she came to think of it, it was hardly his first introduction to the Chance family. He’d lived with her branch of the family for weeks on end, and as for Benjamin…

Her cousin’s dazzling teeth were on display as he played croquet with a bad-tempered Gwen, who never liked losing, and a seemingly happy Samuel, who looked a little worried as he kept glancing over at his wife sitting in the shade.

“I still can’t believe it, sometimes,” Lucy said quietly.

Bertram pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What?”

“Well, that we were connected these last three years, but we never knew it,” she said, inclining her head toward her cousin.

Benjamin waved over at them with his croquet mallet, almost decapitating little curly-haired Thomas, Cousin Thomas’s child,who was squirming in his father’s arms as her cousin walked past. If little Lord Thomas Chance hadn’t been in the duke’s arms and in need of his father’s gentle soothing, Cousin Thomas would have done more than justglareat his reckless cousin over his shoulder, Lucy was certain about that.