You May Kiss the Bride(55)

“He was only being friendly, and trying to amuse me,” Livia answered, thinking to herself: Unlike your grandson, who seems to find me repulsive.

The old lady swung around on Gabriel. “And where were you?” she demanded.

“My dear ma’am,” he answered coolly, “have you forgotten that I had gone off in search of tea for yourself?”

For a moment Grandmama looked perplexed, and placed a hand to her brow. “Oh! Yes, of course, so you did.” Then she seemed to gather herself and now rounded on Livia. “You are making yourself the talk of Bath!”

Livia thought back to a wry comment her mysterious friend at the ball had made, about Bath being a place filled with voluntary spies. Now she only looked at Grandmama and shrugged.

“Evangeline! My drops, if you please.” As Miss Cott hurried to comply, the old lady glared at Livia and Gabriel. “It has not escaped my notice that neither one of you has made the slightest inquiry as to your wedding plans. Given the infelicitous nature of your betrothal, I can but suppose you are dreading its inevitability. I, however, have been giving it a great deal of thought.”

Wedding plans . . .

This simple phrase made Livia feel as if she had been forcefully pushed from one room into another, a room she had been avoiding. Oh, yes, people—women mostly—had been asking her about the wedding, and with a skill that she found more than a little disturbing, she had lightly put them off.

We’re simply enjoying being engaged. It’s all so new and exciting. There are so many possibilities I don’t even know what to think! I can’t wait to start having my gown made. We’re in no rush—I declare I’m all in a whirl. The romance of it all! Mr. Penhallow quite swept me off my feet. Am I not the luckiest girl alive?

And then, after trotting out a few of these giddy phrases, she would add:

Pray tell me about your engagement. What did he say? Were you surprised? Where did he propose? I’d love to hear about your wedding. What did you wear? How many came to the breakfast after the ceremony? May I have a closer look at your ring? How beautiful it is! Is it a family heirloom?

Anything to turn attention away from herself. It was a gambit that, to her relief, succeeded brilliantly.

But now, thanks to Grandmama, the trap was abruptly closing in on her. With false bravado she said, “I had thought, perhaps, a long engagement, ma’am? So that Gabriel and I might get to know each other better.”

Grandmama smiled without humor. “I am confident that you’re sufficiently well acquainted. Besides, I’m tired to death of being asked for details about your nuptials. If we delay any longer we may well expect to be the subject of further gossip, and I won’t stand for it! I had originally intended for you to be married this winter at St. George’s in Hanover Square, surrounded by some four or five hundred guests—and very likely half a dozen members of the Royal Family—but now I believe it would be best to forego the notion of a London wedding and organize a very small, very private wedding, here in Bath, in a month’s time.”

“A—a month?” Livia echoed, taken aback.

“Your trousseau can’t possibly be made in a shorter interval. Following your wedding I trust you will betake yourselves elsewhere—anywhere!—so that I may look forward to resuming the peaceful course of my life here.”

Livia stared at Gabriel, who said only, indifferently: “As you wish, ma’am. I can only apologize for burdening you with our presence for as long as we already have.”

“Most tiresome it has been!” retorted Grandmama.

“I am all too aware of it.”

“Evangeline! What is taking you so long? I’m waiting for you!”

Miss Cott was rapidly sorting through a collection of amber vials set atop a silver tray. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I want to ensure I have the correct one,” and then suddenly one of the vials was knocked to the floor.

“Clumsy!” snapped the old lady as Miss Cott quickly bent to pick it up, apologizing in her soft voice.

Livia looked at each of them in turn, her gaze pausing when her eyes met Gabriel’s. He smiled sardonically at her.

“Yes, we’re quite the loving family, aren’t we. I’m sure you can’t wait to become a part of it.”

She said nothing, feeling all at once so lonely she wanted to cry, and wanting—more than anything she’d ever longed for in her life—to throw herself against his broad chest and feel safe, sheltered, loved. His face had become as familiar to her as her own, the deep timbre of his voice seeming to resonate in her ear like the echo of something dear; never, even when she was furious with him, did that delicious, magnetic pull wane or falter.