Wedding In Springtime(58)

"And you? You are well?" asked Genie.

"I am now, thanks to everything you've done for me."

"George, are you not in hiding anymore?"

"No. I'm sure I'll catch it from Father, but I deserve it! I could not miss this evening, not for the world."

People pressed toward them, all talking, all wanting to know how Genie  landed the most elusive bachelor of the haute ton, with varying degrees  of tact in their questions.

"Wait, wait!" demanded Grant, and all was still again. The crowd held  their breath as if waiting to see what the next excitement would be. "My  dear Genie. You have consented to be my wife. With the consent of your  aunt and uncle, I would like to be wed tonight."

The lords and ladies of fashion gasped again and all heads turned to look at Lord Bremerton.

"I have no objection to the marriage, but the banns must be read, dear boy," said Lord Bremerton.

With a flourish, Grant pulled a paper from his pocket. "I present a  special license. If there is a parson in the assembly, I would call upon  him to come forward."

"May I?" Genie did not wait for a reply and snatched the paper from  Grant's hand. She unfolded it with trembling hands. Carefully, she read  the elaborate script. Though unversed in what a special license might be  in appearance, she had no difficulty finding her name next to Grant's.

"You really do wish to marry me." Genie's eyes were filled with liquid emotion.

"Most passionately." Grant held her close and whispered in her ear,  "Last night cannot count because I was deep in my cups. Tonight I drink  nothing but the fruit of lemons and I will claim you in my bed."

Genie shivered with something that had nothing to do with cold. Grant's  eyes were no longer mildly distracted; now, they were focused and  intent. Her skin burned wherever his gaze went. The response of her  mutinous body was instantaneous, without heed that they were the center  of attention in a crowded ballroom.

"Yes, yes quite." Genie smoothed her hands on her white silk gown. "Let us be married at once!"

Grant's seductive smile turned a languid that made her almost willing to lift her skirts immediately.

"Mr. Grant, I presume." A trim, well-proportioned man stood before them.  "I am Mr. Oliver, a parson, but this is all very irregular."
         

     



 
"You will wish to see this." Genie handed him the marriage license.

Mr. Oliver glanced it over. "Yes, well, it all seems to be in order." He  looked back and forth between Grant and Genie, hesitating.

"I am ashamed to say it," Grant whispered into Oliver's ear, "but if you  marry us, it would save me from sin tonight." Grant gave the parson a  knowing smile.

"Well, I suppose, in that case, I must proceed."

Eugenie Talbot and William Grant were married by special license in the  home of the Duke of Marchford. Several hundred guests were in  attendance. The bride wore white, almost the same color as the pallor of  the groom. Despite some last-minute bets made in poor taste by some of  the young bucks in the room, the groom did recite his vows creditably  and did not collapse in a dead faint. If his voice shook, it was only  for a moment, and considering the occasion, no one could think the less  of him for it.





Thirty-eight


"Bremmy, you sly dog!" An older, distinguished man walked up to Lord and  Lady Bremerton, who were stoically standing next to their daughter and  new son-in-law to the side of the ballroom. The dowager and Penelope  stood with them in a rather vain attempt not to look awkward.

"Robby! Good to see you!" exclaimed Lord Bremerton, and he introduced his friend to the family. "This is Sir Antony Roberts."

"What a surprise you had for me. I had no idea your daughter had married my nephew!"

"Your …  nephew?" asked Bremerton.

"But of course!" Sir Antony gave Dr. Roberts a hug. "This is my  great-nephew and heir. If I'd known about you getting married, I would  have opened the London house for you to stay in. But of course, you must  have already made your arrangements. Like to help if I can."

"Yes, thank you, Uncle," said Dr. Roberts. "But I did not know you were acquainted with Lord Bremerton."

"Acquainted? He is the only reason I survived the war! A truer friend I never had," declared Robby.

"But …  well, I …  this is quite … " Lord Bremerton took out a handkerchief  and mopped his brow. "Well, welcome to the family dear boy." He gave Dr.  Roberts, his new son-in-law, a large hug.

"And who is this ravishing creature?" asked Sir Antony, surprising the  company by addressing the dowager. "I beg you would introduce me."

"This is the Dowager Duchess of Marchford. Your Grace, may I present Sir Antony," said Lord Bremerton.

"Charmed," said Sir Antony, bowing over her hand. "What an amazing  hostess who has arranged for what must be the most highly talked about  ball of the season!"

The dowager giggled regally, as only a duchess can do.

Lord Bremerton and Sir Antony walked off to find the card table, and the  newly accepted Dr. and Mrs. Roberts took to the dance floor.

"Shall I assume you are pleased with the weddings?" the dowager asked Lady Bremerton, smug as a kitten with warm milk.

"How did you ever? Well, I never …  how did Madame X arrange all this?"  Lady Bremerton pulled out a silk handkerchief and blotted herself.

"Madame X has her ways," declared the dowager. "The best part of Genie's  wedding is that it has completely eclipsed any loose talk about your  daughter's marriage to Dr. Roberts."

"Yes, oh yes. For that I am eternally grateful."

"Madam X wanted you to know that if you are pleased, you may provide  payment to my solicitor. He will know what to do with the funds."

"Yes, yes of course. This has been … " Lady Bremerton took a large swig of  something Pen suspected was stronger than Madeira. "I must lie down  now. My daughter married to Sir Antony's heir, my niece wed to Mr.  Grant. My, my, my."

"Can we truly exact payment from her when you know we had little to do with all that transpired?" whispered Penelope.

"Fate is a fickle business, Penelope," the dowager replied in a  conspiratorial tone. "One must accept the loss of her favor from time to  time, just as one should always accept her gifts."

"I suppose I shall be forced to concede you are right."

The dowager linked arms with Pen. "Naturally, I am correct. How odd if  you ever gave credence otherwise. Now please escort me to my room. I am  tired and need to lie down. I also want to go over a letter I received  asking for the assistance of Madame X for an American."

"An American? But how could anyone in America know of Madame X?"

"Lady Bremerton is known far and wide for her gossip. If you thought she  could keep something like a matchmaker for the ton a secret, you are  very much confused."         

     



 

"So you wish to stay in business?"

"Business? Of course not. What a thing to say. No lady manages a  business. But naturally, we will continue to support the calling of  Madame X." The dowager gave her a smile. "You did well tonight,  orchestrating things."

Penelope smiled in return. "Thought we pulled it off nicely. Genie is a  sweet girl and deserves happiness. With your permission, I'll invite the  newlyweds to stay here for their honeymoon night. Grant's family has  been lovely but will not give them peace and I can't think of sending  her back to her aunt."

"A good thought," agreed the dowager. "Come along now, gel, and put an old woman to bed."

***

"She married him in a big hurry," whispered a lady to her companion.

"Makes you wonder what they had to hide," said the Comtesse de Marseille with a knowing rise to her perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Indeed, why would anyone feel the need to marry with such haste?" asked another.

"Marry quickly?" asked Genie, walking up behind them and taking the  gossips by surprise. "Well, if Mr. Grant proposed to you, wouldn't you?"

The gossips were left speechless.

A well-dressed, large man began to laugh, louder and louder, until the  hall turned to note the laughing man. "Yes indeed, Mrs. Grant. You have  done well to marry as soon as one can. With Grant, one must seal the  deal as soon as can be once he has been made to come up to scratch."

"Your Highness." Grant gave a bow. "May I present my wife."

"Delighted! You are a welcome relief to my ennui. Grant, you must  promise to bring her to Brighton. I hope I can rely on you to provide a  diversion from these trying days." The man turned and walked away, his  stomach leading the way.

"Who was that?" whispered Genie.

"Our success in society," returned Grant. "That was the Crown Prince, whose mother you so insulted at your presentation."