Page 130 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
Wakefield gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Cressida,” he whispered.
Her lips trembled. “I love you, t—”
“This is unforgiveable, Benedict!” Mother cried. “Do you hear me?”
“I’m certain all of London heard you, Mother,” Wakefield said dryly. Here. This is something he and his irate sisters could unify around—calling out their mother amidst her temper.
The dowager countess sputtered. “Are you making a jest, Benedict?” she squawked. “After…after…this?” She slashed a furious hand in an X formation at Wakefield and Cressida.
The more surprising bit of it all? Wakefield’s sisters, stood shoulder to shoulder in their support of the dowager countess.
The righteous anger left the dowager countess so quickly, Wakefield got a dreadful jolt. Then, something he’d never before seen in his life happened—tears glittered in his mother’s eyes. “How could you have married without any of your family present?” she whispered; hurt bleeding from her tones.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” he said quietly. “I truly am.” The reason he’d done so was because he and Cressida both agreed they’d wanted a quiet—hasty—affair with only they two present, and the witness who was responsible for their union—Lord Dynevor.He couldn’t have foreseen in a hundred thousand years his mother would so warmly welcome Cressida and express regret at not having thrown them the wedding of the Season.
Anne sniffled.
Wakefield looked at his sister. “I’m sorry, Anne. Katherine, I’m—”
A twinkle in the darker twin’s brown eyes stopped him mid-apology. He peered closely; first at Katherine, then Anne, and at last, Mother. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you putting all this on to make me feel guilty?”
The glitter in the three women’s eyes deepened.
“Is it working?” his mother asked sweetly.
Bloody hell.
The tension left him.
A moment later, just as he and Cressida took to their feet, they found themselves surrounded by the Adamson women, enfolded in warm hugs, and met with happy tears.
Then like a sudden, extremely violent, whirlwind, the jubilant celebration eased, and Katherine, Anne, and Dowager-Countess bustled from the room to begin preparations for a proper celebration, leaving Wakefield and Cressida alone.
He had her in his arms before the Adamson voices fully faded from the hall. “There,” he murmured, as she lay her head against his shoulder. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
Cressida snorted. “Not at all; rather like being trampled by the ton, in full evening dress.”
Wakefield chuckled. “God, I love you, Lady Wakefield.”
“And I love you, dear husband,” she murmured.
Lowering his head, Wakefield went to kiss his bride. Just as he made to brush his lips over hers, Cressida spoke.
“The women of your family are a clever lot,” she remarked.
“I assure you, love, the last thing I care to do right now is speak about my mother and sisters.”
Wakefield made another attempt to kiss her.
“Do you believe they’ll ascertain the reason we decided it was best not to wait on our nuptials?” Cressida murmured.
Her eyes sparkled with both mischief and the same joy that’d been there since he’d asked to marry her.
“I do suspect they may do some tabulations.” Wakefield ducked his head once more.
“Do you think—?”
“IknowI’m going to kiss you, wife,” he breathed against her lips. “And never stop.
