Page 100 of Serving the Couturier

As the car pulled into traffic, Spencer turned toward me, setting his phone on the seat behind him. “Before we arrive, I’m hoping we can have a moment to talk.”

I put my phone aside, curious. “Of course.”

He smiled as he took something out of his pocket. “I promised that it’d be a proper proposal when I did this.”

My breath caught in my throat as I realized what he was holding.

“London McCrae, you’re the love of my life and the mother of my child. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “Yes,” I finally managed to say. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

I didn’t even look at the ring as he slid it onto my finger. All I cared about was that I was going to marry the man I loved.

FIFTY-FOUR

SPENCER

I still couldn’t quite believeit. My son was nearly two months old, and even now, there were times I found myself looking at him and wondering how lucky I was. A lovely fiancée, an award-winning show on Broadway, and a healthy child.

A loud wail came from where the priest was dripping water on my son’s head, making everyone chuckle. Even the more serious members of my family.

Well, the most serious ones here, anyway. One particularly prominent and angry family member wasnothere.

I hadn’t spoken to Grandmother since she left London’s apartment that day. Through my siblings, I knew she’d been furious that I’d kept the barony and even more so when her barrister couldn’t find any way to take it from me. I hadn’t even bothered trying to take legal action regarding the money connected to the barony, which pissed her off even more.

Alexander stopped crying as soon as they handed him over to London, his little face still red from the effort. Mum cooed at him, making little noises. He had her wrapped around his little finger.

“Are we done yet?” Jane asked, her voice easily carrying through St. Mary’s.

A chuckle ran through our observers, and Fleur’s cheeks flushed. Parker reached over and picked up his daughter, answering her in tones too hushed for anyone to make out.

I’d been a tad surprised Fleur had come around once Mum assured her that London wasn’t after our money. I doubted my oldest sister and I would ever be close, but I had to admit that choosing me over Grandmother meant something to me. She’d told Mum that our father’s death had made her rethink her family’s importance to her.

Less than thirty minutes later, London, Alexander, and I walked into the hall we rented for today’s dinner. The caterers had everything prepared and ready to go by the time we arrived, and I made a mental note to talk to London about confirming them for our wedding in the spring. Everything smelled blinding fantastic.

It didn’t take long for everyone to settle at their tables, and as quick as Bob’s your uncle, I thanked them all for coming. I wasn’t the only one who was hungry. London took care of feeding Spencer while I went to the food and made a plate for both of us.

“I see my nephew has London’s fondness for the spotlight,” Carson said as he came up behind me.

I chuckled. “Considering how much applause he heard while London was pregnant, it’s not surprising.”

“I got a call on Friday from one of your theater friends,” Carson continued. “They want me to create designs for their entire cast. Twelve of them.”

“Will you do it?”

He shrugged. “I asked for the weekend to think about it. I never saw myself as a costume designer, but I enjoyed doing the work for you.”

We talked for a few more minutes as we finished filling our plates and then went our separate ways. I hadn’t gone far before another of my soon-to-be brothers-in-law stopped me.

“I heard that you’re coming to San Ramon for Christmas.” The man standing before me had blue eyes and a scar through his right eyebrow. This McCrae brother was Alec, the one who ran MIRI out of Seattle.

“We are,” I said. “Any advice?”

“Don’t bring alcohol,” he said. “Brody always brings his newest whisky and Theresa makes the best eggnog. You’ll end up the butt of jokes.”

“Chocolate or fruit cake then?” I asked.

“Does anyone actually eat fruitcake?” Alec laughed. “Chocolate. Canna go wrong with an assortment.”

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