"To you! But no, you cannot be expected to shoulder such a weighty obligation all on your own. I realize your mother passed on some years ago when you were no more than a child, but surely there is another female relation who can aid you? A sister or cousin, mayhap?"
"No, ma'am, there is just my father and myself. I am quite self-reliant, however, so I'm sure I shall find my way in this as well."
Creases gathered on the dowager's forehead. "But you shouldn't have to find your way. After all, you are the bride, and this should be your special time. I hope you will not take it amiss, but if I might, I would like to offer you my assistance."
"Your assistance?" Grace repeated, her lips parting in surprise.
"Yes, if you would like."
For a long moment Grace made no reply, taken completely off guard by the notion that Jack's mother was not only warmly welcoming her into the family but was offering to help her with the wedding arrangements as well. A lump swelled in her throat.
"Well, child?" the dowager prompted gently.
"Y-yes. Oh, yes, Your Grace, I should like that above anything." A fulsome smile spread across her face. "Thank you. That would be wonderful. You are so kind."
Ava Byron beamed with pleasure. "Not at all. I adore planning weddings. And Mallory can help."
Lady Mallory nodded in eager agreement. "Of course I shall. I love nothing so much as a good shopping expedition, and we shall have many."
"To that fact, I can safely attest," the duke remarked in a wry tone. "What was it this month that caused you to exceed your allowance? The ermine arm shawl you bought, or the engraved gold and pearl etui you had sent over from Rundell and Bridge?"
Mallory sent her brother a narrow-eyed glare. "Neither. It was the extra pairs of dancing slippers I ordered. Of which I was in dire need, I'll have you know, since I've quite worn through my others."
Edward gave an amused snort. "All dozen of them, hmm? Unless I'm misremembering the details of the shoemaker's latest bill, of course."
Mallory glared again and stuck out her tongue, clearly uncowed by her older sibling. "And I shall need that arm shawl this winter," she defended. "The almanac says it's going to be frightfully cold."
Edward shook his head, while Jack let out a quiet guffaw.
"If we're done with shawls and slippers, perhaps we might return to the topic at hand?" the dowager stated in a soft, yet firm, voice. "Now about the wedding, summer is always a lovely time of year for a ceremony. Or next fall, with its cooler temperatures and all of the leaves turning color."
"Next summer or fall?" Jack set down his empty teacup. "But that's months away. Grace and I aren't waiting that long."
His mother's frown returned. "A year for an engagement is an excellent length of time, what with the trousseau to be designed and the church to be arranged. Not to mention deciding on the guest list and where everyone shall lodge and dine."
"You ladies have my leave to make whatever plans you like, but I'm not waiting a year. Three months, that's my limit."
"Three months!" The dowager looked aghast. "Oh, not you too. I've barely recovered from Cade and Meg's whirlwind wedding."
///
"But only think what an expert you now are on the intricacies of hasty nuptials," Jack said with warm persuasion. "And compared with Cade, you have plenty of time. As I recall, he only gave you six weeks."
"Six frantic, exhausting weeks."
"And yet you pulled off a spectacular ceremony and a reception that won you nothing but praise. Just imagine what you'll be able to achieve with twice that amount of time."
His mother's lips tightened. "I ought to box your ears for such impertinence and imposition, John Richard Byron."
Jack gave her a perfect, angelic smile. "But you won't, will you, Mama? Not for your favorite son."
She gave a snort that would have been indelicate had she been anything less than a duchess. "I love all my sons with equal affection, as you well know. But were I to have a favorite, it would most certainly not be you at the moment, given your unreasonable impatience and willful stubbornness."
Rather than being chastened, Jack's smile only widened.
"However," she conceded, with a regal dip of her head, "I shall put aside my irritation for your fiancée's sake." Her gaze shifted, alighting on Grace. "What would you like to do, dear? You are the bride, after all."
Grace fought hard not to squirm as every eye in the room turned her way.
Yes, she mused, what would I like to do? Then she looked at Jack and didn't need to consider a moment more.
"I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I'd rather not wait long either. Maybe we could have a simple ceremony. Something that wouldn't require a great deal of work."
"If I procured a special license, we could be married here in the drawing room one evening," Jack remarked.
Grace sent him a chastening sideways glance. "Yes, well, perhaps not quite that simple. I would prefer a church, or even a chapel."
"A chapel? We have a lovely one at Braebourne." The dowager paused and tapped a finger against her chin. "Oh, that gives me a wonderful idea. What would you say to being married at Braebourne?"
At Braebourne? Be married at one of the most beautiful, illustrious estates in the whole of England? She would never have even considered such a notion. But oh, how idyllic, how romantic!
"Unless you would rather remain here in the city," Ava continued. "We could inquire about St. George's, though it's doubtful we'll find an available date given our time limitations." She paused to send Jack a reproving look. "We were only able to secure the church on such short notice for Cade and Meg because it was in the hottest part of August and most of the Ton had already departed for their estates."
"No, no," Grace hastened to assure. "Braebourne would be lovely. If you are quite sure you and the duke wouldn't mind, that is."
"Mind? Of course we do not mind. Edward would be delighted to act the host, would you not, dear?"
He smiled with affable agreement. "Certainly. What's several dozen more people come to stay when the family hordes are preparing to descend for the holidays anyway."
The dowager clasped her hands together and let out a little chortle. "Oh, but that's exactly the answer! The holidays. Yes, yes, it's perfect."
"What's perfect?" Jack stated in an echo of Grace's thoughts.
"Why, the timing for the wedding. Everyone will be at Braebourne, so half the guest list is done before we start. Grace can invite her father and aunt, of course, and anyone else she would like. The food and lodging arrangements will be no difficulty whatsoever with the staff already in full fettle. And I'm sure the bishop won't turn down an invitation to spend Christmas with us. So what say you both to a holiday wedding? We could even hold the ceremony during the New Year just before Twelfth Night."
A New Year's wedding to usher in the start of my new life with Jack. Grace liked the sound of that. A smile spread over her mouth, excitement burgeoning inside her. "I believe it's a most excellent plan, Your Grace." Angling her gaze, she fixed her eyes on Jack. "What do you think?"
"That I am hopelessly outnumbered." Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "But if it makes you happy, then New Year's at Braebourne it shall be."
Chapter 14
With the date and location of the wedding decided, Grace found herself thrust into an immediate flurry of preparations.
Beginning the very next day, the dowager duchess and Mallory whisked her away for the first of a multitude of shopping expeditions. They took her to the most fashionable stores in London, arranging for everything from engraved, hot-pressed stationery to exotic foodstuffs and a set of special crystal wine goblets that would be used exclusively for the wedding toast.
///
Then there were the clothes, whose vast excess seemed to know no limits. From hats, shoes and gloves to pelisses, petticoats and gowns, she ordered so many new garments that she didn't see how she could possibly ever wear them all. But Jack's mother and sister assured her that she would need each and every one in the months to come, including the dozen silk nightgowns that were so sheer they made her blush.
She ordered such a large wardrobe, in fact, that she feared incurring a sharp scold from her father for her overindulgence. But he said not a word, apparently happy to pay the continual stream of bills that arrived in the post and by messenger each morning.