Page 27 of Mr. Notorious and the Nefarious November

At half past seven, he stepped into a coach that already held Dudley and his wife, Louisa, as well as Lavinia’s siblings Aylmer, Guy, and Lydia. “Where are your children?” he asked Dudley.

“Too young to attend,” Munro’s sister-in-law informed him. “Caroline is six and might have behaved, but little Dudley is a terror on a good day. One can’t expect him to sit still five minutes, much less forty.”

“I remember when you married, Aunt Louisa,” Lydia said. “I was barely six and so excited to attend.”

“Yes, and you were an absolute angel,” Louisa said. Munro thought Louisa was probably the real angel as she had to live with Dudley and about eighty-three footstools.

“I remember when your parents married,” Munro told Aylmer, Guy, and Lydia. Guy, who was twelve, didn’t look away from the window but Aylmer and Lydia turned to him.

“You do?” Lydia said.

“I was fifteen, the same age as Aylmer and only a few years younger than your mother. I remember thinking she was beautiful.”

“Was Aunt Beatrice there?” Lydia asked.

“I’m sure she was.” She would have been no more than eight then and Munro didn’t remember her at all. It wasn’t until he saw her again, about ten years later, that Beatrice had made an impression on him.

“Did Papa have all of his hair then?” Aylmer asked.

“Well, he didn’t have any children to antagonize him back then, so yes.”

“Do you think you will ever marry?” Guy asked, finally looking away from the window.

Ah, exactly the question Munro wanted to avoid. “I don’t know.” He needed to say something to lighten the mood and change the subject. “I definitely don’t want children.” He patted his head. “My hair is too luxurious to pull out.”

The children laughed, and Dudley, whose hair was beginning to thin, patted his own head.

The coach finally arrived at the church, and Munro made sure Lavinia’s brothers and sister were seated beside their mother in the front pew. He took his seat behind them with his own siblings and forced himself not to look around in hopes of spotting Beatrice. The Duke of Ramsbury made his way to the front of the church and exchanged a few words with the bishop. Ramsbury looked nervous and shifted from foot to foot.

The church was full of candlelight. The rain outside had dimmed the interior of the building, so it seemed closer to eight at night than eight in the morning. A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up to see Beatrice standing beside the pew. She looked stunning in a champagne-colored gown that was simple and understated. Somehow the plainness of the gown made her raw beauty stand out more. Her complexion looked almost golden in the flickering candlelight. Her dark hair caught that same light and seemed to shimmer. His eyes met hers, and for a long moment, he was caught by her lovely green gaze. He had never known another person with eyes that color green, and he didn’t think he ever would.

Munro stumbled to his feet, his legs unsteady. He’d wanted to see her, but now that he did, his heart sped up and he felt unaccountably warm. His entire body seemed to feel the need to remind him he was in love with her every single time he saw her.

Munro grasped the back of the pew before him to steady himself, then stepped aside when Beatrice made a shooing motion with her hand. The other residents of his pew shifted, but there was not much room left on their row. When everyone had adjusted, Munro and Beatrice sat. His leg fit snugly against hers. Normally, Munro wouldn’t have minded the close quarters, but the feel of her leg against his just reminded him that this was their last day together. She hadn’t sent him any more tests anddidn’t seem inclined to. Clearly, she had decided not to accept his proposal.

The bishop said something, and everyone rose and turned to the back of the church where Arthur stood with his daughter on his arm. Lavinia’s face was brighter than any of the candles, and her father looked as though he might fall over.

“What’s wrong with Arthur?” Munro whispered to Beatrice, who had been in the carriage with Judith, Lavinia, and Arthur on the way over.

“He’s just realized he’s not ready for his little girl to become a wife. He’ll be fine.”

Munro glanced at his brother again. Arthur looked waxy and stiff as he started toward the altar, Lavinia on his arm.

Beatrice glanced back at Munro. “Just in case, be ready to give Lavinia away.”

Munro wanted to askin case of what, but he caught Lavinia’s eye and smiled at her. She beamed back, looking radiant as any bride should on her wedding day. Munro would strangle Ramsbury if he ever did anything to take that joy from Munro’s niece.

He wondered what Beatrice would have looked like if she’d been able to give Munro her heart, if she’d been able to trust him. She’d probably look terrified as she stood at the altar with him. She knew weddings didn’t always end in bliss. And Munro knew love didn’t always conquer all. He’d loved Beatrice for years now, had never stopped loving her, but it seemed his love wasn’t enough. She couldn’t trust him enough to marry him.

As much as he wanted her, he wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t linger in London and hope she’d change her mind one day. He couldn’t even stay in London. It would be too painful to see her, want her, and know he couldn’t have her.

Arthur managed to reach the steps to the altar. He looked up at the bishop who asked, “Who gives this woman to this man in marriage?”

“I am her father,” Arthur said, “I do.” He bent and kissed Lavinia’s cheek then took her hand and placed it in Ramsbury’s. Munro watched his brother stumble back to his seat, and once the families were allowed to sit again, he put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder to comfort him.

The rest of the ceremony was brief. Beatrice sniffled, and Munro gave her his handkerchief. He tried not to think about how warm she felt beside him or allow himself to turn his head to catch her scent. He need only survive the wedding breakfast, and then he could pack his things and say his good-byes. He’d leave at dawn tomorrow morning and not look back.

Beatrice had hardly a moment to think until the wedding breakfast was underway and all the food laid out and the guests making toasts and offering felicitations. She’d been awake since long before dawn to help Judith with all the last-minute preparations, including dressing Lavinia for the ceremony. Now it was over, and Lavinia was the Duchess of Ramsbury. She looked happy, turning her head to smile at her new husband every few moments. He smiled back at her, pressing her hand with his.

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