Page 61 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
“You look beautiful,” he whispered.
Evangeline, too, could hardly contain her smile. It felt as though her chest would burst from the sheer expansiveness of her joy. “I know,” she whispered back and was rewarded by the corner of his eyes crinkling as his smile deepened.
Hand in hand, they turned to face the priest, who gave them a perfunctory smile before beginning the ceremony. Evangeline said her vows, accepted her ring, and, before she knew it, was declared Zachary’s wife.
He kissed her with rather more enthusiasm than was strictly decorous and grinned against her mouth. “How many scandals can we cause?”
“Zachary, no!”
His grin widened, but he offered her his arm, and they processed out of the drawing room in a suitably stately manner.
The wedding breakfast was held in the dining room, and by the time Evangeline and Zachary entered, every possible delicacy had been laid out for them. Her father had spared no expense, and Evangeline’s heart swelled at the sight.
“Papa,” she said, giving that gentleman a kiss on his cheek. “How can I ever thank you enough?”
“Thank me?” Her father’s voice was gruff, and for a moment, she thought she saw him blink away a tear. “What else could a man do for his first daughter to marry?”
“Besides,” her aunt said, taking Evangeline’s other side, “you cannot think he achieved all this on his own merit. He may have paid for it from his own pocket, but I can assure you, I was the one to decide on the dishes you see before you.”
Evangeline squeezed her aunt’s arm. “Then how can I ever repay you?”
“By being happy.” Her aunt sniffed and hurried away to her seat before she could cry further; her cheeks were already stained from having witnessed the wedding.
Evangeline took her place opposite Zachary and beside his mother. Emily took Zachary’s other side, and with her aunt and father that made up the party. A small one, to be sure, but Evangeline had no desire to share her happiness with anyone but those dearest to her.
Still, such overwhelming joy felt wrong, as though it were a crime to be happy and to experience happiness in such a way when Lady Harley still grieved Lord Riffy’s.
Evangeline understood Zachary’s anger, and she respected the decision he made not to commit the Earl to the hand of the Law. Instead, he had asked Lord Riffy to never again approach his family, especially not his mother.
Evangeline had hoped that one day time would heal the rift between the two men, but if that day was to arrive, it would not be soon. No matter how Zachary felt about his father, his death had been a difficult one, and so had been the resulting burns and the suspicions of a society that believed him to have killed his father in cold blood.
Lady Harley reached across the table to take Evangeline’s hand. “I wish to tell you, I had not envisaged my son marrying so soon, but you are the wife I would have selected for him if I could.”
Evangeline returned the squeeze of her fingers. “He is as good for me as I am good for him. He challenges me in a way no other gentleman has.”
“And you defy his temper in a way no other lady has done.” Lady Harley smiled, although the wrinkles around her eyes seemed deeper now than they had a few weeks ago. Sorrow was written across her face as clearly as joy was written across Zachary’s. In so many ways, they were similar, but in this—in Lord Riffy’s betrayal—they were different. Zachary had dealt with his grief by throwing himself into happiness. Lady Harley had not been given a similar opportunity.
Evangeline knew better than to mention Lord Riffy’s name, however. After she had learned what he had done, Lady Harley had retreated into herself.
One day, Evangeline told herself, she would help Lady Harley. Losing someone she loved in such a way—to feel so betrayed—was difficult, but time was the world’s greatest healer.
Instead, she said, “I am so honored you could share this day with us. I know it means a lot to Zachary especially.”
“How could I have stayed away on a day of such joy?”
Evangeline squeezed Lady Harley’s hand again. Itwasa day of joy, but Lord Riffy had been intended to marry Lady Harley. Perhaps, if the events of that night had gone differently, or he had not done such a terrible thing in pursuit of Lady Harley, they might be celebrating very differently.
“What are your plans now?” she asked. “Zachary said you intended to return to the Dower House on the estate?”
“I am the Dowager Marchioness,” Lady Harley said with another of those smiles that didn’t reach her eyes. “It is only right I live in the Dower House. It is far enough from you that I will not interrupt your daily life, but I can visit often, if you would have me. And it is time I set down roots in a home I can call my own.”
“Will you not return to town?”
“There is little here for me now.” Lady Harley swallowed and glanced across at Zachary, who was laughing as he talked with Emily. “He has a family in London if ever he needs anything, and I long for the peace of the county.”
“The country is indeed peaceful,” Evangeline said, thinking of her father’s coastal home—one that she would visit again but would no longer be her own. Instead, she had a home to make on Zachary’s estate, in his ancient family house he had offered to her with the caveat that if she should not like it, they might find somewhere else.
To the devil with convention, he had said. What had his ancestors been except products of their time?
