Marrying Mischief. Lyn Stone

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Marrying Mischief - Lyn Stone Mills & Boon Historical

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thing ye donned a fancy frock,” he told her as soon as she opened the door of her room. “Yer Da is here ta make a honest woman of ye.”

      Emily gathered up the slightly too long skirts of the countess’s mint-colored muslin morning gown and followed Wrecker down the stairs. She could swear she heard a voice softly singing “Greensleeves” in a sprightly off-key soprano. A voice that the burly sailor either chose to ignore, or else could not hear. It sounded amazingly like the countess.

      Emily shook her head to clear it of the fanciful notion, but the phantom sound continued.

      “Well, I’m glad you are happy,” Emily muttered under her breath.

      “Oh, aye, ma’am. Nothin’ like a good weddin’, I always say,” Wrecker announced. “Long as it ain’t mine.”

      The moment they exited the house, Emily saw Nicholas waiting beside the gates. He wore dove-gray trousers, Hessians and a dark blue coat. This was the first time in her two days here that she had seen him so impeccably turned out. Somehow it touched her to know he would go to the trouble to dress so nicely for their impromptu wedding.

      She was glad she had decided to put up her hair and attempt to make a good show of herself. Also, it had been wise of her to wear one of the countess’s dresses instead of her own dark gabardine frock that had seen better days. She would have felt mortified had she attended this appearing like a frump when Nick had gone to so much bother.

      In all honesty, she knew she should have felt more compunction about wearing another woman’s clothing, but somehow the soft, lovely gowns soothed and warmed her in the same way her gentle mother’s embrace had done when she was a child. Strange that should be so when Emily had hardly known Lady Elizabeth.

      Two guards wearing crooked, wrinkled cravats, hair slicked down and scarred boots polished, stood nearby. Dr. Evans, whom she had met only in passing, was there, as well. Through the wrought-iron bars, she saw her father standing alone some yards away.

      The familiar shock of white hair, the dreamy gray eyes under wire-rimmed spectacles, and the portly figure contained in slightly out-of-date black attire, made her ache to hug this sweet man she loved so dearly. Would he understand her predicament? Would he approve what they were about to do to rectify it?

      She waved as she approached and spoke to him when she drew close enough for him to hear. “What do you think, Father? Have I gone completely beyond the pale this time?”

      He smiled, as she’d expected he would, and gestured toward Nicholas with his prayer book. “Moot question, but not to worry, child. His lordship has matters well in hand, my dear. Yes, yes, I’m certain you’ll do right well with one another.” In an abrupt change of subject that was totally characteristic of him, he asked, “You’ve seen Joshua?”

      Emily brightened, happy to bring her father good news. “Just last evening. I wish he could be out here so you could see him. His health is improving, however, and you’ll not believe how he’s grown, Da. His voice is so deep and, though he’s still abed and ’twas hard to tell for sure, he looks to have grown a foot taller these past months.”

      “Good, good. Well he should grow, now shouldn’t he? Be strange if he didn’t at his age.”

      “Pardon me, sir, but we ought to proceed,” Nicholas interjected. “It is misting and we wouldn’t want our Emily to catch a chill on her wedding day.”

      Emily shot him a frown. How dare he interrupt her conversation when she was reassuring her father about her brother’s health. But the men already standing there and those who’d just joined them, were watching them as closely as if this were a tennis match. She knew better than to set up a contest of wills with Nick when she had no prayer of winning. She must choose her battles.

      The very idea that she could not afford to speak her mind made the urge to do so all the greater, but she kept her mouth firmly shut and stifled the longing. Impulse had been her downfall too many times to give in to it.

      “Now, now,” her father admonished Nicholas. “No need to rush on account of that. My daughter’s as hardy as one of your sailors there. Got a strong constitution, my girl has. Never sick. Never.”

      Emily almost rolled her eyes in exasperation. Fine thing, her own parent likening her with a seasoned tar. And Nicholas did not have to add insult to injury by allowing his amusement to show. She was already jumpy as a rabbit. Did they both have to make matters worse?

      “Let’s get on with it,” she snapped. She marched forward and stationed herself at Nicholas’s left.

      “Pretend, Emily,” he said, leaning near her ear to speak softly so that only she could hear.

      She searched his eyes to see whether he was making sport of her at this particularly inappropriate moment, but it appeared he was now quite serious.

      “Stretch those lovely lips into a smile,” he ordered, hardly moving his lips when he said it. “And for pity’s sake, take my hand. Pinch me if it makes you feel better, but do not outwardly betray your reluctance further or it will trouble the vicar. I have just spent half an hour convincing him that we are well suited.”

      “Half an hour? A great deal more than you spent persuading me,” she muttered. But she did as he suggested. She pasted on the most pleasant face she could manage under the circumstances and thrust out her chin. In a louder voice, she said, “Shall we begin?”

      The lines her father read and the vows required were those Emily had heard dozens of times in her years as the vicar’s daughter. She had witnessed weddings of great joy and meaning, and those where couples were less than enthusiastic. Never had she been a party to a total travesty such as this. She feared lightning might strike one or the other of them before the deed was done.

      Fate would have served her better if she didn’t still love the cad, but she did promise to do that much since she had no choice in the matter. God alone knew she had tried for years to banish him from her heart with no success. It seemed he was stuck there like a nettle that could not be pulled free.

      And she would be faithful, she thought to herself, almost laughing aloud at the idea of searching out any other man. She’d had problems enough with this one, even when he’d been absent. Heaven only knew how much trouble he’d be now that he was back again. Yes. One man would be more than enough.

      When her father mentioned the part about obeying, Emily crossed the fingers of her left hand, hidden within the folds of her skirt.

      As for honoring him with her body, Emily stumbled over those words when prompted to repeat them. Nicholas had reached for her free hand and was grasping both now as if he knew about the crossed fingers, daring her to avoid the promise.

      She was making it under duress, Emily told herself. Even so, she supposed she would have to live up to it, in spite of her demand that they not share a bed.

      However, nothing in the vicar’s little book of ceremonies required her to say when she must. Nick could jolly well wait until she felt like it.

      “I will,” she answered.

      Nick squeezed her hands and smiled down at her.

      She started to say, “Eventually,” aloud, but the word would not form on her lips. Too many ears were listening and her courage did not extend quite that far.

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