You May Kiss the Bride(105)

Gabriel now cast a troubled glance up at sky threatening rain. As soon as he’d seen all the wheat and barley and oats and rye harvested, cut and carted to barns, he thought absently, he’d ask Hugo about his plans, and see if he might provide any other kind of assistance to his young cousin.

Hurry, he told himself, hurry.



The next day Gabriel was up before dawn and as the morning sun rose over the fields, promising a bright and beautiful day, he sat on Primus watching the laborers and wagoners work. Young Eccles rode up on his neat cob, and Gabriel nodded a good morning to him.

“It’s coming along, sir.”

“Yes. The gleaning will commence soon?”

“Or we could keep on harvesting. Up to you, sir.”

“No, leave plenty for the womenfolk and the children. Set the men to threshing.”

“As you wish, sir. Reckon we’ll have a good Harvest Home this year. Nice change, if I may say so, sir.”

Gabriel nodded, conscious of feeling both satisfaction and pride. And aware of just how bone-tired he was. And how much he missed Livia. It felt like years since he’d seen her, really seen her. Suddenly he turned to Young Eccles and said:

“Can you do without me for a few hours?”

“Of course, sir. All’s well here.”

“Yes, it is.” Gabriel grinned, touched his heels to Primus’s sides, and galloped back to the Hall.



After a pleasant walk with Hugo after breakfast, Livia went upstairs to change her half-boots for slippers, then proceeded to the drawing-room where she found Hugo stretched out on one of the sofas, feet propped comfortably on a tufted hassock. He was engrossed in a letter, but looked up when she sat down on the sofa opposite his.

“Good news, Liv! I’ve just heard from the mater—all’s well at home, although Bertram has destroyed two more of the best pots with his latest experiment on conductivity, and Mama’s cook is livid—but that’s neither here nor there. Seems there’s a likely heiress practically on our doorstep.”

“Oh! That is good news, Hugo!”

Briskly Hugo folded the letter and stood up. “Well, I’m off! That is, if you’ll excuse me?”

Livia stared at him. “You’re leaving right now?”

“No, I’m going to the stables to make sure my horse is ready for a journey. I’ll go tomorrow. No time to waste! Stands to reason these heiresses are snapped up pretty quickly. And it’s well over three hundred miles to Whitehaven.” He smiled at her affectionately. “Terrible houseguest, aren’t I, hotfooting it out of here on a moment’s notice? But I’ve barely exchanged a sentence with Gabriel and Aunt Henrietta—awfully preoccupied, aren’t they?—and I daresay they won’t even notice that I’ve gone.”

“I will notice, Hugo.”

He smiled. “You’re a sweet one.”

Livia wasn’t quite able to return his smile. “Oh, Hugo, I’m so glad for you—glad for your promising matrimonial prospect. You deserve every happiness. But I’m going to miss you so much!” And with that, she burst into noisy tears.

“Oh, I say!” exclaimed Hugo, appalled. He knelt down before her, taking her hands in his own massive ones. “Don’t cry, dear Liv, don’t cry!”

Livia only sobbed, and when he took her in a brotherly embrace, she leaned against him and gave in to the luxury of a good cry. And when finally she began to feel a little better, he was so warm and comforting that she didn’t want to move.

Hugo was awkwardly patting her hair, causing it to tumble down around her shoulders. “Women!” he said wonderingly, “I hope my heiress won’t do such unfathomable things,” which only made Livia laugh.



Gabriel stood stock-still on the threshold to the drawing-room. His brain wanted very much to reject the evidence of his own eyes.

Livia and Hugo.

Livia in Hugo’s arms.

Her beautiful hair loose, wild.

Gabriel knew what that had to mean. He wasn’t stupid.

Then he heard her laugh. A happy sound.

Quickly he turned on his heel, went to his study, shut the door, stood there with his back against it as if seeking solidity. He had been in an earthquake once, in Crimea. Dishes had tumbled from shelves and broken, candlesticks toppled, books and little objets d’art disarranged as if by the careless hand of an unseen giant. In a heartbeat the world which had seemed so firm, so fixed, had revealed itself to be, quite literally, shaky.

So, too, had all his plans—his hopes and dreams—just now been shattered, as if they were as insubstantial as a little china figurine.

While he had been painstakingly bringing his estate from ruin, Livia and his cousin Hugo had fallen in love.