Page 91 of The Hellion and the Captain
“I am not enthused about the small details of the wedding — the flowers, the dress, the minute details I didn’t even know I’d have to think about,” she said, lacing their fingers together. “I am, however, looking forward to celebrating our love with our closest friends and family.”
The entire football club had been invited, of course.
“And I am more than excited to be married to you,” she continued with a smile that held a hint of suggestion that hadto be quickly quelled as they were sitting in her parents’ drawing room.
Rhys’s parents had decided to stay in Manchester until after the wedding. They even agreed to dinner one night at the Whitmore residence, and while they were concerned at first, Emmaline and her mother had quickly put them at ease.
All had come together so well, in fact, that the wedding day seemed to be a mere formality, although Emmaline had never attended any wedding with quite as lively celebrations.
But between winning the Cup just weeks before, followed by the captain’s wedding, Manchester Central was ready to celebrate.
Emmaline had been certain to pair Minnie and Tommy together, hoping that the spark she had unintentionally quelled when Emmett had pretended to be courting Minnie could reignite.
Tommy had been sure to comment on it.
“So, all that time you kept me from Miss Draper, it was all a ruse?” he asked Emmaline at the wedding breakfast as he stared at Minnie across the room.
“I didn’t cause it purposefully, Tommy,” she said. “We were only trying to protect my identity further. How was I to know that you would fall for her?”
Tommy stood straighter. “I wouldn’t word it like that. I would say that we showed interest in one another.”
“Perhaps,” Emmaline said with a shrug and a smile as she went off to find her husband.
Rhys greeted her with a chaste kiss on the forehead as he looked at the room around them. While her parents had invited some friends as well, most people here knew and loved them for who they truly were.
“Will you miss Emmett?” Emmaline asked, looking up at him with a grin.
Rhys’s expression was serious as he studied her.
“There are so many different sides to you,” he said. “I will miss who you are on that football field, but I feel that it won’t be gone forever — you’ll find new ways to bring it out. Perhaps when you can play in your own right.”
“I hope so,” she murmured. “I don’t think I will ever be able to give up football entirely.”
“Nor should you,” he said. “I don’t think I ever could either.”
As much fun as she had with her guests, Emmaline was happy for the end of the celebrations, which had lasted far longer than the usual wedding breakfast.
“Well, wife?” Rhys said with a grin. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Rhys’s parents were still staying in his old apartment, which he was due to let up at the end of the month, while Rhys and Emmaline, with a bit of help from her father as a wedding gift, had found a townhouse of their own in a respectable area of Manchester, between the two neighborhoods they had each called home.
Emmaline had seen the house once or twice since it was purchased, but it hadn’t truly felt like home until now, as she stood on the front walk and stared up at it.
She was taken aback, her breath leaving her in a whoosh, when Rhys knelt down and scooped her up into his arms without warning, carrying her across the threshold.
“Rhys!” she laughed, holding onto her hat, “what are you doing?”
“Carrying my lady into the house,” he said, but he didn’t immediately release her. No, instead, he bypassed the entire ground floor, heading up the stairs to the first story.
“I am not the lightest of women,” she protested.
“Then it is a good thing that I am the strongest of men,” was his reply, before finally depositing her down upon thebed, which she bounced up and down upon a couple of times as she looked around her.
The high ceilings were adorned with decorative plaster moldings, and large windows were draped in heavy, luxurious curtains. The sturdy four-poster bed she was currently lying on was dressed with fine linens that her mother had had a hand in selecting, a heavy quilt overtop. Every item, from the ornate lamps to the chaise lounge, had been carefully chosen, matching the soft, warm tones of the room with the floral wallpaper and the vase of fresh roses, sweet peas, and violets.
“Did you finish this room?” she asked Rhys, who looked slightly uncomfortable for the first time that day. He took everything else with such ease.
