Ryder listened to the happy ribbing, saw Mary’s eyes sparkle as she capped one of Luc’s comments with a quip of her own—saw his half siblings watching, noting, taking it in, with a longing that mirrored his own, a wish to understand, experience, and be a part of just such an interaction.
This was the other side of family—the warmth, the support, the detailed understanding and unconditional acceptance of who and what each member was, what they could contribute, their traits and foibles, their strengths and passions, and the abiding affection and inclusiveness that embraced each individual and forged them into such a powerful whole.
Family—strength, warmth, support—power.
After being reassured several times by multiple people that she would not in the least be in anyone’s way, Stacie accepted Louise’s proposal. Older head and younger bent together to plan.
As a group, they spent the rest of the day and the early evening together, chatting amiably, discovering common interests and pursuing them, eventually devolving into two groups, the ladies settling in the library chairs to swap tales of fashion and scandal, while the gentlemen took themselves off to the billiard room, there to engage in an impromptu tournament, Cavanaughs versus Cynsters and connections.
Neither side won.
Dinner, even held in the grand and gracious setting of the formal dining room, wasn’t, in that company, allowed to be anything but a relaxed affair, a fitting end to the last hours of unwinding. After passing the port and brandy, the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room; by the time everyone trooped up the stairs an hour and a half later, the dark strain of the earlier part of the day had been wiped away, and every last one of them, Ryder would have sworn, was focused ahead.
Looking forward to the next day, and the next, and to all that their lives would bring.
Mary paused in the gallery at the head of the main stairs to bid her family—both sides of it—a good night, and to ensure they all remembered where their rooms were. After seeing everyone off down the right corridors, she smiled, turned, and found Ryder waiting.
As she’d known he would be.
Slipping her hand into his, she strolled by his side down the corridor to their apartments. Her heart felt buoyant; she felt like swinging their linked hands and skipping along, but now she was a marchioness that, sadly, would not accord with her dignity.
But she could smile. Ryder held the door to the sitting room open; she flashed a beaming smile at him as she stepped inside—and, catching his hand as she passed, she towed him to the left—to her bedroom. The room he’d had decorated so superbly for her, but which they’d yet to use.
Collecting the lighted candelabra from the sideboard as they passed, he followed readily enough, as, indeed, he had all day, but when she halted and swung to face him, he looked into her eyes, arched a brow. “Are you sure you want to sleep here?”
“Yes.” She held his gaze. “This morning we buried the past, this afternoon we drew a line under it, and this evening we’ve started on our future. It’s fitting that we use this room tonight—the first night on our new journey.”
Briefly, he searched her eyes, enough to see her decision, her commitment, then nodded. His lips lightly curved. “As ever, your wish is my command.”
She laughed and turned away to pull the pins from her hair.
Setting the candelabra down, Ryder watched for a moment, then shrugged off his coat. Trying to decide where in this room he would leave it, he followed the thought further . . . “I just hope we don’t cause consternation tomorrow morning when Collier and Aggie look for us and find us apparently gone.”
“They’ll realize, I’m sure. No one would dream that you and I would run away.” She presented him with her back. “Help me with these laces.”
Tossing his coat on the end of the bed, he obliged, then, leaving her to strip away her gown, he retrieved his coat and walked down the room to lay it over a chair. After stripping off his waistcoat, he set his fingers to his cravat. He’d just finished unraveling the long band when a rustle had him glancing around—in time to see a nicely naked Mary slip under the sheets.
His smile was all appreciation, not just for the brief sight but in anticipation of what he would shortly find waiting for him in the bed. The lovely bed he’d had created just for her.
They’d been married for only three weeks, yet already they were behaving like a long-married couple. He’d wondered about her unvoiced but clear preference for, most often, undressing separately, each stripping their own clothes off, until he’d realized she liked watching him disrobe. Until he’d realized that she hurried to get her own clothes off so she could lie back in the bed and watch him strip—exactly as she was doing now.