Argyle cut in. ‘Please do not regale us with a complete list of my shortcomings just now, my heart. Let us join the vicar. Before I change my mind.’ He took her hand and dragged her off, with Alice following, trying to stifle a giggle—leaving her mother rolling her eyes, and her father exchanging an amused glance with Lady Montgomery.
Marguerite and Argyle greeted the vicar, a spare man with kindly eyes and thinning grey hair. He asked everyone to gather around; Alice stood next to the bride, and Lady Lennox took out her handkerchief and vinaigrette.
Hearing the vicar’s words, Argyle and Marguerite turned to each other, exchanging such an intimate look that Lady Lennox was overwhelmed—she glanced at her husband and saw he also had a tear in his eye. He clutched her hand and blew his nose loudly into a large handkerchief.
After the brief ceremony, the Mowatts bustled about, laying the table, helped by Curtis and Flossie. The newlyweds sat on the sofa, while Marguerite’s parents, Lady Montgomery, Alice and the vicar took the armchairs.
Lady Montgomery said, ‘You look like the cat that has got the cream, Argyle.’ She hit his leg with the tip of her cane.
‘I feel like the cat that has got the cream, Aunt Eliza.’ Argyle smiled and held Marguerite’s hand tightly. ‘It has not been easy getting it, as well you know.’
Marguerite looked at him, then at his aunt. ‘How did you know, ma’am?’ She thought, irreverently, that Lady Montgomery’s profile resembled the eagle on her cane, and smiled a little.
Lady Montgomery said, ‘He asked for my advice when he had made a mull of it. I told him to persevere.’
Marguerite laughed. ‘I was unimpressed, at first.’
Lady Lennox said, ‘Well,ma chérie, at least you have seen your husband at his worst, so—’
‘Non,Maman, he has been at his best: calm, kind, appreciative…’
‘Unrecognisable, then,’ Lady Montgomery said briskly. ‘I see you have not lost the opportunity to seize the upper hand, my dear. Make sure you keep it.’
Alice said, ‘Well, you have caused all our friends to talk ofnothing else for days—the accident, and now the wedding. A fair number of the men are jealous of His Grace, and a few girls of you, Marguerite.’
‘Only a few?’ Lord Lennox raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Most of the girls are terrified of His Grace, Uncle. He can be a little…er…overpowering.’
They all laughed. Marguerite said, ‘Unsmiling and arrogant—I always thought so. It is a good thing I have seen behind the façade.’ She glanced at her new husband, who glowered at her.
Mrs Mowat had outdone herself producing a feast that, though less sophisticated, lacked nothing in taste compared to the food prepared by Lord Lennox’s French chef. They gathered around the table, and the vicar, eyeing the delicacies on offer, said, ‘This is by far the most unusual wedding I have celebrated, but there is a lot to be said for having everything under one roof. And all this looks most delicious.’
Marguerite said, ‘Mrs Mowat is the most marvellous cook, Reverend. You will see. She had been spoiling us.’ She poured him a glass of wine.
Mrs Mowat, slicing a roast with a large knife, said, ‘Seeing as Her Grace has spent many a morning scrubbing and peeling my potatoes, it was the least I could do.’
Marguerite laughed. ‘How strange to have suddenly become ‘Her Grace’.’
Her father had come up to them; he put his arm around her shoulder and said, ‘My daughter, the potato-scrubbing duchess.’
The reverend said, ‘It is a skill that will always stand one in good stead. I raise my glass to all you good people—this has been an honour, and a pleasure.’
After they had eaten Marguerite took Alice apart and they spent a few minutes talking and giggling quietly. Alice recounted their friends’ various reactions to the news of her marriage: approval, envy, surprise. In the case of some of the men, ruefulness. Marguerite asked about Felix Crampton—she still felt guilty about giving him false hope.
Alice said, ‘He was quite down in the mouth for a while. But I am sure he will recover—it is not as if he had made an offer, after all.’
Lady Lennox said, ‘What are you two plotting over there?’
As they went back to join the others, Marguerite whispered in her cousin’s ear, ‘The next wedding will be yours. To Charles.’
Alice said, ‘I am fully intending it to be. I have made my plan.’
Marguerite laughed, then a small frown line appeared between her brows. ‘Should you succeed in your enterprise, I hope Thomas will be pleasant to Charles. I really want us to continue seeing each other often.’
Alice said, ‘Do not worry, it was Charles’s regard for you he objected to. Now that he knows you are his, he will soon unbend towards him.’
‘I must make sure he does. I am very fond of Charles, as you know.’ They smiled at each other.
