Page 31 of Pursuing Mr. Mattingly

“Of course I wasn’t, but I cannot say the same about Uncle Gilbert,” she said with a wide grin. “And the more he grouses, the more fun it is to tease him.”

“Be kind to him. He grapples with more than any of us realize.” But there was a grin on the earl’s face. “Come inside. You can tell me all about it while I cajole Cook into feeding us.”

“In a moment. First, I wish to speak with Mr. Mattingly.”

“Ah.” The earl threw an amused glance at Oliver. “It seems it was you she wished for all along.” After bussing the girl’s cheek, the other man vanished into the house.

Oliver cocked an eyebrow. “What is amiss? Everything is well with your mother?”

“Yes, yes. Mama has spent her days choosing a gown for the ceremony. It’s so pretty! You will adore her in it, I think. Oh, and we also planned our masquerade costumes.” She took his hand and led him up the steps, and he marveled that she had such faith in him. At the top, they moved to the side and out of the direct line of traffic for the footmen hauling luggage. “I’m glad you came back.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He frowned. “I promised your mother I would marry her, and I completed my task in London to do just that.” He patted his jacket where the all-important signed paper rested. “All we need now is to ask the local vicar to come by.”

“Good.” She grinned and bounced her gaze between his valise and his face. “Did you, um, bring me a gift?”

Truly, this young lady who had known so much grief in her life was nothing more than a child still, and he delighted in that. Would that she had many more such years ahead of her, for the world would present its challenges soon enough. “How did you know I would?”

“You are that sort of man, Mr. Mattingly.” She held out a hand, palm upward with an air of expectancy. “Well?”

He chuckled. “We shall need to talk later about the risks of becoming spoiled as well as deporting yourself all over the countryside dressed as a boy.” Then he delved a hand into his valise and withdrew a mother of pearl hair comb. “Perhaps this might grace your lovely tresses at the ceremony.”

“It’s beautiful!” She snatched it from his fingers, cradling it in her palm as if it were the most valuable work of art. “I’ve never owned anything so fine because Mama says I lose things when I’m on adventures.”

“Somehow, I suspect you’ll keep this safe.” He closed his valise with a snap. “Now come inside. As your uncle said, we’re in need of food. I trust you’ve taken care of the kittens?”

“I have.”

“Good. Now you can explain to me why you are dressed like this and tell me why you thought that was a good idea.”

She huffed but followed him inside as he nodded to the butler. “Will you tell me it’s not proper or that I shouldn’t do it?”

“That depends on how creative your forthcoming answers are.” When he glanced at her, he grinned. Was he up for the challenge of being an immediate father? Indeed, he was. “I’m of a mind that there are various degrees of proper. The problem isn’t merely black and white.”

“You and I will get along famously, Mr. Mattingly.”

Sophia might give him a dressing down, but for the moment, solidifying his bond with Hannah was more important. He didn’t just want her mother in his bed; he wanted every responsibility that came along with being wed.

*

July 11, 1819

Oliver clasped hishands behind his back to hide their shaking. His nerves felt strung too tight while sweat plastered his fine lawn shirt to his back beneath his best jacket and waistcoat, both in black. Of course, that discomfort could be due to the heat outside, for the midday sun beamed into the drawing room at Ettesmere Park, and there was very little breeze.

Yet, as most of the Winterbourne family stared at him while waiting for the vicar to arrive, he concentrated on his breathing. It wasn’t every day that a man married, and the event was incredible in its own right, but perhaps his nerves stemmed from what he’d be expected to do later tonight. Would his inexperience make Sophia think she’d made a horrible mistake? Or worse yet, would she deride him for it?

Oh, God.

The earl came into the room with a grin. Behind him was an older gentleman and a younger man. One carried a well-worn copy of the Book of Common Prayer while the other held a leather folio. “Good afternoon, everyone.” He glanced at Oliver. “I must tell you, Mr. Mattingly, I just glimpsed my sister in the upstairs corridor, and she is quite lovely.”

“That is good to know.” But it simply made him all the more nervous. “Yet I thought that of her all along.”

Lord Ettesmere chuckled. “This is Vicar Mitchell, and his clerk, Mr. Mead.”

“Hello, and welcome.” Oliver shook hands with both men. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

The man with a ring of white hair around his balding pate grinned. “This sort of thing happens more than you’d think, Mr. Mattingly. Though I must say, your reasons for wedding are thought provoking and heart breaking as much as they are inspiring. You are a true example for us all.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “But in the doing of it, I hope to make a few lives better.”

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