Page 23 of The Lord Who Adored Her and Other Love Songs
“Wait until she stops wailing,” he hissed back. “Cover your ears if you must.”
“What kind of wail is it?” Clara whispered. “Happy or?—”
“Married.” The younger marchioness sounded breathless. She abandoned her husband’s arm to step closer to Clara. In the light of the rising moon, her eyes seemed a dark brown. With her long, wavy hair loose around her shoulders, she looked like some sort of fairy maiden. But earthy. A bit puckish. The type of woman one picked up a sword in defense of.
Clara dropped a curtsy. “Pleasure to meet you. I know this is sudden.”
The dowager appeared at her daughter-in-law’s side. “The best love stories are.”
“Franny,” the marchioness warned at the same time two male voices cried, “Mother!”
And before the final syllable of that word had finished ringing in the air, the dowager flew at Clara, wrapping her in the first hug she’d had from anyone but Alfie in two years. Oh. Oh. How could she not? She hugged the woman back.
“Mother.” Said in male unison once more.
Atlas’s hands on Clara’s back, her shoulder, trying to dislodge his mother.
“No, no.” Clara waved him away. “This is fine.” It was perfect. It took every one of her fears and smashed them to bits like teacups on a ballroom floor. “Thank you,” she whispered in the dowager’s ear. “Thank you, Lady Waneborough.”
The woman held her at arm’s length. “Call me Franny. You must. Now, when shall you wed?”
“We have a license,” Atlas said. “We will wed as soon as Mr. Thornwell can be prepared to marry us.”
“Oh.” The dowager clapped her hands. “Immediately. And Theo and Cordelia are here. Out at the bonfire right now with Fee and Zander. Everyone present but for Drew and his secretary.” More of her sons and their wives. A large family, and chaotic, apparently. “Are they still in London?”
“No,” Atlas said. “Left for Manchester a few days ago. We cannot wait for them. We must marry as soon as can be.”
“Tomorrow, if possible,” Clara added.
Atlas’s gaze slammed into her. “Tomorrow.”
The dowager squealed. “How beautiful. Love at first sight.” The squeal softened into a sigh.
“It’s been a long journey. I forgot the bonfire was tonight.” He offered his arm to Clara. “Would you like to settle in or join the revelry?”
“Both. I think,” she said. “Can we go inside first? See to our trunks?”
“Yes. Of course.” He pulled her close to his side, and she pulled Alfie to hers, and the three of them entered the house, Atlas’s mother rushing beside and behind them. The dowager flew past them and disappeared down a hallway flickering with sparse candlelight.
“Do you always keep it so dark inside?” Clara asked.
“Raph, my brother, the marquess, likes to be economical where candles are concerned. But Matilda, his wife, has insisted on a bit more light in the evenings of late. It’s better than it used to be. I know this is not what you’re used to. Those jewels… your husband’s family must be quite wealthy. We are not so?—”
“In here, my dears!” A door at the end of the hallway was flung wide, and the firelight leapt onto the dark walls in a tangle of gold, orange, and shadows.
Clara patted Alfie’s back. “Go on. We’ll be there shortly.” Her hand on Atlas’s forearm stayed him, and once Alfie and the others had left them alone, she spoke once more. “Do not apologize. When I became a Bronwen, I acquired much wealth and little love. And from the few moments I’ve been here, I’ve experienced more acceptance than in all the years I lived at Coledale. Blast.” She pressed her fingers under her eyes. “I willnotcry. Ridiculous.”
“Not ridiculous. I’m glad you feel welcome. I want you to feel safe here. Happy.”
She did. Yet… shadows remained. Worries. She’d been hugged by a woman she didn’t know because she was there to marry that woman’s son. Because the woman thought them in love with one another. She’d not been a disappointment to the dowager because she brought love with her. But Clara didn’t really bring love with her, did she?
“Atlas, what will she do? When she discovers why we’re truly marrying?”
“Pout a bit, likely. Refuse to believe us. Attempt to make us fall in love.”
“Will she be disappointed?”
“Yes. But it will not?—”
