Page 118 of To Wed an Heiress
She heard her grandmother in the background, as well as Elizabeth. Everyone was speaking, but Mercy ignored all of them.
Lennox glanced at Connor who moved to stand beside him. At the same time Irene came to Mercy’s side.
“Mercy, it is my intention that we shall live as man and wife. That you will be known as the Countess of Morton. That we shall live at Duddingston for the whole of our lives and that our children will be my heirs.”
She couldn’t stop the tears.
“Will you, Hortense Abigail Paula Sarah Gramercy Rutherford be my wife and my countess?”
“Yes,” she said, almost before he finished the question. “Yes, Lennox. Yes.”
He glanced at Connor. “Are you witness to the same?”
Connor nodded. “I am.”
“And I am as well,” Irene said.
Lennox bent forward and kissed her softly. “That’s it,” he said. “We’re married.”
“Is that all?” she asked when he pulled back.
“That’s all.”
“That can’t be right,” her father said. He glanced over at Douglas. “He isn’t right, is he? You can’t have such stupid laws in this country.”
Douglas drew himself up to his not inconsiderable height and frowned at her father. Her great-uncle might be up in years, but right now he looked capable of engaging in a fight of his own. She sincerely hoped her father realized how insulting his comment had been. James Rutherford’s character was not steeped in tact.
“It’s right, he is,” Douglas said, not looking all that pleased at the admission. Her grandmother looked as if she’d just eaten something sour.
“It can’t be. They can’t be married.”
“I’m afraid it can,” Irene said, sending him a smile. “It’s our way.”
“My father isn’t happy,” Mercy said, looking up at Lennox.
“I’d wager none of the Macrorys are, either.”
She didn’t care.
“We’ll have a more proper ceremony later if you want.”
“Do we need one?” she asked. “Will this one count?”
He grinned at her. “It’ll count.”
Uncaring about their audience, she stood on tiptoe, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
“How did you know all my names?” she asked a moment later.
He glanced toward Ruthie, smiling. “I got help.”
Mercy turned to her friend and the two of them hugged.
“Oh, Miss Mercy, I’m so happy for you.” Ruthie stole at glance at Mercy’s father. “I’m sorry about Mr. Rutherford, though.”
So was Mercy. She loved her father. She always had. He wasn’t a bad man. Everything he’d done was for the right reason: to protect and guard her. Perhaps if she’d been a different type of person she would have enjoyed her life thoroughly, never seeing it as limited.
She wanted to go to him, but his expression indicated that he wouldn’t be receptive to any of her overtures.
