The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(175)
She gazed at him with open admiration. In his dark blue coat, fawn trousers and waistcoat, crisp white linen and dark blue cravat with a fine gold pin, Will was nothing less than awe-inspiring.
Suddenly she didn't care about all of her unease and unanswered questions any longer, only about being with him, making him happy. After all, it would make her happy too.
She gave him a dazzling smile. He could not resist a warm peck on her cheek which earned him a frown from the vicar.
The ceremony began, but she could scarcely follow it. She felt as though time were whirring past at ten times its normal speed. She made it through her vows without stumbling or faltering too badly. Then she blinked and it was all over.
The vicar declared, "I give you Sir Wilfred and Lady Elizabeth Joyce."
Will and Elizabeth bowed and curtsied according to form, before he pulled her into his arms for a most sensual kiss.
Elizabeth finally had the strength to drag her lips away. "Darling, the guests!" she whispered shakily.
"Aye. I'm sorry. I forgot where I was for a moment."
"Quite all right. It happens to me whenever you touch me."
He beamed down at her, proffered his arm, and conducted her to the dining room, where the wedding breakfast had been laid out.
They struggled through all of the formalities of the occasion even though they wanted nothing more than to fall into each other's arms. The toasts, the food, the cake, the dancing, were all exquisite tortures as they gazed into each other's eyes and clung to each other's hands.
Finally waltzing together some time later, Elizabeth having had a turn with most of the men in the room, she begged, "Can we please go up now? I can't bear this any more."
"It's broad daylight. That doesn't bother you?" he murmured in her shell-like ear.
"Not at all. I want nothing to come between us any more," she said truthfully.
Her words struck him forcibly. Lord, in all this time, he had told her none of the things he really ought to have…
As her midnight blue eyes sparked with desire, he told himself there would be plenty of time. He would make her his, then explain what he could about his past.
"I'll give you a few moments to ready yourself, then come up to our room."
"I'm ready now," she whispered urgently.
He nodded. "I just need to say goodbye to a couple of people, and thank them and your brother."
"All right, but don't be long. I have a little surprise for you."
"I'm sure." He grinned from ear to ear.
"No, I meant—"
He kissed her hard. "Ten minutes, my love."
She moved out of the ballroom to go up the stairs. She skirted around a group clustered in the far corner trying to keep out of the way of the dancers. She noted the broad back and blond hair, and for a moment thought it was Clifford Stone.
She drew even closer, and overheard a snatch of conversation which caused her to listen in with horrified fascination. Who on earth could they be talking about?
Marcus Fitzsimmons snorted in disgust. "Well, I must say Will Joyce is an example to us all of exactly what the rewards for treason can be. A fine house and estate, a supposed treasure reputed to be worth thousands, and now a wealthy heiress for a bride. A duke's sister no less. And that traitorous whore of a sister of his married to the Duke of Clancar. There's no justice in the world. Last I had heard the pair of them were at Kilmainham Gaol in shackles, about to be hung, drawn and quartered. Now three years later, here they are back again as bold as brass."
"You're right. There's no justice at all," Timothy Teague grunted.
"Except for their father. He paid the penalty in the end," his brother James put in.
They all laughed with grim satisfaction.
Elizabeth trembled and turned away before she overheard anything else vile about Will. Really, how could they all be so horrid?
Marcus Fitzsimmons she could understand. It had to be a simple case of sour grapes. But all the others had spoken of her husband and sister as traitors as if the fact were common knowledge.
She pressed one shaking hand to her temple to try to decide what to do. There seemed only one sensible course of action. She had to tell Will what she had heard. She turned around to retrace her steps, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Elizabeth went from room to room seeking him. Finally, out of the corner of her eye she spotted all of his Army comrades drinking a toast in one of the small anterooms off the dining room.
She did not mean to eavesdrop here either, but the quietly spoken words were like an arrow through her heart.
"All I can say is I hope he can find some peace, some oblivion," Monroe said.