Page 29 of The Rules of Matrimony
Ian knew he was right, but it still rattled him. “You broke my trust.”
Paul’s gaze was far too humble. “I did, and I hope someday you will forgive me.”
How could he stay mad at such a genuine effort? He forced some bluster into his voice, though he knew Paul would see through it. “What’s done is done, but I won’t be keen on sharing secrets with you in the future.”
An arm swung around his shoulders again. “That’s because in the future, all your secrets will be with your wife.” It was Miles again. Miles, who was far happier than Ian had seen him in years. At least marriage agreed with someone, even if it would never agree with Ian.
Ian sighed. He had hoped to prevent all this marriage advice. There was one secret he planned to share with his wife, and that was the specifics of their contract. “Don’t you have any other vicar duties to attend to?”
“I’ve been demoted tojustthe vicar?” Miles laughed in the quiet way he always did and motioned to Jemma across the room with Mrs. Tyler and Mr. and Mrs. Nelson.
Jemma caught the gesture, gave her excuses, and moved to join their group, her latest dress creation the color of a green apple. The circle expanded to include her. “Lady Reynolds,” Jemma gushed, “we are so pleased to share your special day with you.”
“This is Mrs. Jemma Jackson,” Ian clarified. “She is married to this lowlyjustvicar.”
Tom cleared his throat. “No offense, but you aren’t very good at this nickname business. You mean Vixen is married to Mr. Romantic. I’ve been saying these names for years. When will they catch on?”
“I am all of the above,” Jemma said with a laugh, “and I was once against marriage myself, so I can give hope to everyone everywhere.” She tapped Ian’s arm. “Even this one.”
Amie’s brow rose, and Ian squirmed. She seemed a little overwhelmed, but he could tell she was making note of every detail and wasn’t in a hurry to be pulled away.
Jemma glanced up at him. “I’m afraid Lisette and Walter Bentley were unable to make it. They had a few fields burn, and a tenant home was destroyed. They didn’t dare leave until everyone was cared for, but they sent their love and felicitations.”
Alarm struck him. “Was anyone hurt? What needs do they have?”
Miles slapped his back, his voice steady and calming. “Relax, we have it well in hand. You take care of Lady Reynolds, and we will take care of the Bentleys. You were there for all of us; now it’s your turn for a break. Enjoy yourself for once.”
Ian took in his friends’ supportive, loving faces, and the last of his anger dripped away. Louisa and Cassandra still flanked Amie’ssides, each of them eager to bring her into the fold of the Rebel Society. How could he have wanted to keep his own wedding from them? All his many reasons about gossipers gathering seemed paltry now. His friends were the best part of his life. Each one had already written to him offering help, ideas, or support for his criminal law research without any hesitation. And now this. “Thank you. All of you. I’m sorry—”
“We know,” Tom said quickly. “You love us. As much as I hate to cut short a sincere apology, your parents are anxious to speak to you. After the years they’ve been made to wait for this day, I don’t blame them.”
Ian looked past Cassandra’s curly blonde hair to see his father with his arms folded across his chest and a mixture of annoyance and disappointment on his face. Ian’s mother was whispering something to his father. He would guess calming words.
Anxious, indeed. More like on the verge of a fit of temper. He steeled himself and stepped away from his friends.
A petite arm encircled his elbow. He glanced down to see Amie. Her timid smile eased the rising tension inside him.
She motioned with her head to his parents.
He nodded and extended his arm more fully to her. His awareness of her beside him was stronger than ever before, especially her soft touch. His wife’s touch.
He set his jaw, willing himself to keep his mind clear, and together they walked to the bench his parents were standing in front of.
His mother embraced Amie and kissed her cheek. “Welcome to the family.”
When Mother stepped back, his father took her place. He stood there frowning at them.
Amie, who must’ve been intent on being an unruly wife, did not hesitate to greet his father. She threw her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you for giving me away.”
Ian had been completely dumbfounded when Amie had walked into the church on his father’s arm. He still did not know who had put him up to such a task. He had not expected him to attend, let alone come in with Amie on his arm, as if he were somehow controlling the wedding too.
Ian couldn’t wait to find out who was behind it. Even Paul wouldn’t have stooped so low. Thankfully, Amie did not hold on to his father as long as she had to Ian during the ceremony. He hadn’t even realized his hands had fisted at his sides until his nails started digging into his palms.
He wasn’t jealous of his father’s touch. No ... it was something else—a surge of protectiveness.
His father reached for his throat, clearing it several times. “Yes, well, if your husband is content to not secure his career, I suppose you will do,” his father said. And then he surprised Ian even more than Amie by kissing her on the cheek with a muttered, “Congratulations.”
How that one word must have cost him when, in all honesty, he was disgusted that his son had married the wrong woman.
