Page 119 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
Closing his hand about Lucilla’s, he held her beside him as Manachan moved away. “Until tomorrow.”
Manachan gave a small tilt of his head and continued making his way very slowly toward the gate. Beyond it, Thomas could see his uncle’s carriage waiting in the lane. Two good-looking hacks were tied to the back.
His gaze on Manachan’s retreating back, Nigel paused beside Thomas. “We’ll follow the carriage home.” Nigel turned away, and Thomas followed his gaze to Norris.
Manachan’s youngest son had held back, hovering on the edge of the crowd. He dipped his head to Thomas and Lucilla and murmured his congratulations.
“You’d better fetch Niniver.” Nigel’s tone was hard, as was the gaze he directed at Norris. “The pair of you should go in the carriage with Papa.”
Norris’s expression remained impassive, but he gave a slight nod. “I’ll get her.” He inclined his head again to Thomas and Lucilla, then turned and made his way into the crowd.
Lucilla glanced at Thomas, clearly wanting to follow—to question Niniver, the one person who might tell them more about Manachan’s condition.
Thomas agreed; he gripped her hand and, with brief nods to Nigel and Nolan, parted from them.
He and Lucilla started back through the crowd, following in Norris’s wake—but there were many who had not yet had a chance to speak with them and wish them well. They progressed by fits and starts. By the time they’d traveled far enough that Thomas could look over the heads, he searched along the wall where Niniver had been, then sighed. “She’s already gone.”
Lucilla looked up at him. He let her see his welling concern for Manachan; she read his eyes—and he saw the same anxiety reflected in hers. But then she sighed. Leaning closer, she squeezed his arm. “I think this is one of those times we have to accept that whatever will come, will come.”
He dipped his head and brushed his lips to her temple. “He did want us to enjoy our day.”
“Indeed.” With a brisk nod, she straightened. “So that’s one thing we can do for him—we can honor his wish.” Settling her arm again in his, she turned him to the next group waiting to speak with them. “And tomorrow,” she murmured, “I’m going to ask Mama and Papa to come with us.”
Thomas thought that an excellent idea.
Leaving dealing with tomorrow for tomorrow, he joined with his new wife in honoring his uncle’s wish; thereafter, they devoted themselves to enjoying their day, on every level and in every way.
* * *
The wedding breakfast proved a riotous event. Speeches were declared the order of the day, and they were many and varied, from the sincere to the hilarious, delivered by a host of characters ranging from Helena, Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, to Christopher Cynster.
Even Quentin, Winifred, and Humphrey joined in, along with several of Thomas’s old school friends.
And from noon until late in the afternoon, the feasting rolled on.
Later, after waving away all those returning to their homes, the contingent who were staying at least until the next day adjourned to the drawing room, the library, the Great Hall, the large schoolroom, or Carter’s attic studio, as their ages, genders, and inclinations disposed them.
Thomas and Lucilla ended lolling on a sofa at one end of the long library, surrounded by their Cynster peers, along with Antonia Rawlings, who had claimed a small love seat facing the sofa. Sebastian lay sprawled in an armchair, Marcus in another, while Prudence had curled on the other end of the sofa. Michael and Christopher had elected to lie on their backs on the floor, all but filling the space between sofa and armchairs.
“So,” Sebastian murmured, his gaze traveling the group, “who’s going to be next?”
Eyes closed, Michael replied, “Not you.”
Everyone laughed, but none of them volunteered any further reply.
Antonia asked whether Thomas and Lucilla had any plans for coming south that year, and the talk, desultory as it was, moved on.
Thomas listened and learned; he’d never been a part of a family such as the Cynsters, yet in the same way he had so quickly felt at ease with Marcus, so, too, he felt surprisingly relaxed with and accepted by this group—those closest to Lucilla, her particular circle within the larger family.
And while family was very like clan, in this particular family, while the similarities were there, it still wasn’t quite the same. He finally decided it was because clan was so hierarchical, with so much power vested in the head of the clan, while the Cynsters were a family of powerful individuals, linked by blood and heritage, yet each strong and capable in their own right—the combined strength of the Cynsters would outweigh that of any simple clan.
And, if anything, they worked together and looked out for each other even more than clansmen did.
In proof of that, a few hours later, Marcus, Prudence, and Antonia arranged a diversion that allowed Thomas and Lucilla to escape all further imminent teasing and retire.
Laughing, her hand gripping his, Lucilla rushed up the turret stairs. She hauled him into their room and slammed and bolted the door.
Laughing, too, he fell back with his shoulders against the door. He tipped his head at the bolt. “Is that really necessary?”
