Page 51 of A Bride for the Baron

Somehow, she managed to jab her elbow into Edmund’s side without letting go of his arm. A scowl at him was an unspoken order, and she was smiling again when she faced their guests.

“Good morning, Sir Nigel.” Edmund nodded toward the baronet. “Lillian, I hope you enjoyed the service.”

His aunt’s eyes widened along with her smile. “It is wonderful to see that you two young people have journeyed along the path to friendship and beyond, far enough that you are enjoying the intimacy of using each other’s given names.”

He expected Lillian to roll her eyes and try not to laugh at his aunt’s grandiose comment. When Lillian moved to wrap both arms around his other one, he was so shocked he could not speak.

“Edmund is such a dear man,” she cooed in a tone he had never heard her use. Had a changeling taken over Lillian’s body? He was accustomed to her treating him with the same warm friendship as she did Vera. Now she acted as if he already had made her promises of a future together.

Lillian stood on tiptoe and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek before going to greet Lady Meriweather. Such a kiss offered more fuel to the speculative fire that he and Lillian were more than friends.

When he saw the expression on Sir Nigel’s face, a predatory, satisfied smile that matched his aunt Belinda’s, he had sudden sympathy for a fox being chased by the huntsmen and their pack of dogs.

“I cannot know the state of another man’s heart,” Sir Nigel said with a chuckle, “but I know my great-niece, Mrs. Uppington, and I can assure you that she has been raised well. She knows her place should be at the side of a fine lord, and she is welcome in the finest homes.”

“She sounds like an excellent match, but my nephew is cautious in all his decisions,” Aunt Belinda said, keeping her arm through Edmund’s so he could not make an excuse to flee from the disconcerting conversation. “Do not fret, Sir Nigel. I can tell you that he is far from immune to your lovely niece’s charms.”

Edmund’s face felt so hot, he feared it would blister. Why was his aunt prattling on as if he had confided his intentions to her? But, a small voice in the back of his mind asked, was she wrong? Sir Nigel had been right when he had said that Lillian Kightly would make Edmund an excellent wife. Lillian was beautiful and knew the exact thing to do as Meriweather Hall’s lady. Far better than he knew how to be its lord.

But, as the justice of the peace had reminded him the night of Cadman’s death, Edmund still had much to learn about being a peer. He wanted more from a marriage than a wife who would steer him through Society, but was holding on to the expectations of his earlier life the wrong decision?

As if to answer his question, though he could not guess what the answer was supposed to be, Vera appeared at his side.

She smiled. “If you will forgive me, Sir Nigel, Mrs. Uppington, I must steal Lord Meriweather from you for a moment.”

His aunt started to protest, but Sir Nigel said, “Of course, Miss Fenwick. We must not be greedy when Lord Meriweather has many guests today.”

“Thank you.” She waited for Edmund to untangle himself from his aunt’s clasp as well as Lillian’s, then led him out of the chapel.

As soon as they were out of his aunt’s earshot, he said, “I should be thanking you.”

“You had the look of a man who wanted to be anywhere else but where he was.”

“As I have said before, you have a gift of insight, Vera.”

“I really had a reason to intrude.”

“All the better.”

“Lady Meriweather sent me to find you because she has some task for you.”

He laughed. “I hope it will keep me busy for the rest of the afternoon.”

“I can’t promise that.”

Before he could reply, he heard his name called in Ashland’s arrogant voice. He stopped and said, “If I don’t answer him, he will stalk me until I do.”

“Go ahead. I can find someone else to help me.”

“All right.” He grimaced, then muttered, “There’s no rest for the wicked.”

“Or from the wicked,” she said before she took his hand and squeezed it. “Be careful, Edmund.”

She did not give him a chance to reply before she hurried away. As he turned to face Ashland, who was striding toward him, he appreciated her advice. He hoped he could follow it.

Chapter Eleven

Meriweather Hall’s great hall harked back to the manor house’s medieval origins. Thick rafters were stained with smoke from the large hearths where, once, meals were cooked. Iron chandeliers hung from the peak of the ceiling, and thick candles burned on them. The windows along each side of the room had been opened to allow in the breeze on a day that was both seasonably warm and sunny.

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