Page 38 of The Secret Word
The breakfast had been laid out buffet-style on long tables, solving the problem of seating more than sixty people, which would have challenged even the generous space made by opening the doors between the dining room and the adjoining parlor.
Aunt Fern had organized little groups of seating in those rooms, the large drawing room, and the spacious hall that connected the two, each group with tables on which people could place their food and drink.
In addition, she had augmented Father’s footmen from her own staff, and they circulated through the rooms, some with trays of food, and others with drinks.
“Did you know that lot were coming?” Father demanded, gesturing towards Chris’s relatives with his chin. Chris had left Clem’s side because his uncle had asked for a moment of his time.
Father was trying to glare, but his chest had the proud puff of a pigeon. He had never hosted such a company under his roof, and he was thrilled.
“No, Father,” Clem was able to tell him. “Aunt Fern might have known, but I didn’t, and neither did Chris. He is pleased, though, especially after the fuss his grandfather made at the wedding. Having his family acknowledge our wedding has made him very happy.”
She glanced at Father’s chief rival, who was the nearest person he had as a friend. “I do not believe I have ever seenMr. Morton so flummoxed. He has long said you were foolish to try to marry me into the aristocracy, and he certainly never expected to meet two earls under your roof.”
Father chuckled.He actually chuckled! “That he didn’t, Clementine. That he didn’t. Well, it is done now, and the boy is signed up to a contract. And after all, how much trouble can they cause? This could all work out for the best.” He wandered off toward Mr. Morton, undoubtedly going to see if a little salt could be applied to the man’s wounded pride. “Yes,” he was muttering as he went, “this is excellent.”
Chris had been talking to his uncle while Clem was occupied with her father, but he joined her to say, “There really is an estate, my love. My cousin Lord Crosby wants to meet with us to tell us all about it. I told him we shall be away for one week, and that we’ll come to see him as soon as we are back in London.” He examined her with a slight frown. “Have you had anything to eat or drink, darling?”
“I have been too busy talking,” Clem admitted.
Chris took a drink from one passing footman and beckoned to another who carried a tray of food. “Here,” he said. “I don’t know how long we are supposed to stay, or what you had for breakfast, but these will help.”
“These” were little savories—small pastry parcels with tasty fillings. They were the only food Clem had had since a slice of toast early that morning, and she washed it down with a mouthful of wine, before one of Father’s business rivals and his wife came to present their good wishes.
I hope we will be able to leave soon.As the thought crossed her mind, it suddenly occurred to her that she was actually married. To Chris. And presumably tonight he would want to go to bed with her. To do what married couples do. And wicked couples who were not married to one another, if that was the same thing. Logic suggested it must be.
Clem only knew what she had overheard of the conversations of servants, full of words she only half-understood and copious giggling, and short on detail.
She should have asked Aunt Fern. She should have asked Martha, even! She had been too embarrassed and now it was too late.
Another footman passed with a tray, and Clem finished her drink and took another.
Chapter Fifteen
Chris’s brief conversationswith Lord Crosby, his uncle, and the Earl of Halton, his father’s cousin, confirmed what Michael and Harry had told him. They would have accepted him at any time, though both remained adamantly set against his grandfather. Something with which Chris was in agreement.
There’d be time enough to think about what the family reunion meant for him—for him and Clem, as a couple.
Not today, though. Clem was his wife, and their life together had begun. Meeting the relatives who should never have been strangers was not his focus. Today, the family reunion was just background, a minor theme in the soaring orchestral crescendo that was his wedding to Clem.
Most of the people at his wedding feast were strangers, and they all wanted to meet him and Clem, so it was at least two hours before Aunt Fern took pity on them and told them Chris’s carriage was being brought around to the front door.
“Let’s go home,” he said to Clem.
They didn’t get out without a self-congratulatory speech from Wright, to which Chris replied with a speech praising his bride and thanking his groomsmen. Harry proposed a toast to the bride and groom, but at last Chris was able to escort his wife to the front steps, and assist her into their waiting carriage.
The younger people, who had accompanied them downstairs, cheered when he kissed her hand and then climbed in behind her.
And then, they were away.
It was only a short drive to the house they had rented. Chris was mindful that what was to come was new to Clem. Thanks to the efforts of Aunt Fern, their embraces so far had been nearly chaste—certainly far more chaste than Chris would have preferred.
Even so, he could control the urge to leap on her as soon as the carriage door was shut. He would have to, for he would not want to frighten her, nor did he want her to be embarrassed in front of her new servants when they arrived at their new house looking as if he had tumbled her in the carriage.
Instead, he took the seat beside her, took her gloved hand in his, and lost himself in thinking about the bedding to come. Not for the first time, he wondered what she had been told.
She was curious, he knew that. And she listened to the servants, so she knew a little. Had anyone thought to explain the details? Was she frightened? She didn’t appear nervous, though. Was she glaring at him?
“Is something wrong, my love?”
