Page 77 of Felicity Cabot Sells Her Soul
She hadn’t returned his watch. Ian flexed his fingers at his sides in a desperate attempt to keep himself from fiddling again with his cravat. And now there was nothing left for him to occupy himself with other than to stare at the church doors and wonder if Felicity intended to arrive at all. If, perhaps, she had reconsidered.
“What do you suppose her gown looks like?” Anthony inquired, in a rather transparent attempt to drag Ian’s attention away from the church doors. “I asked Charity, but she wouldn’t tell me. Said Felicity wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Nor Mercy,” Thomas said. “But I’m given to understand it was rather expensive to produce in so short a time.”
“I know,” Grace sang out, her voice humming with satisfaction. “She let me pick the lace. I’ve seen it; it’s lovely.”
“It’s green,” Ian said.
“She showed you?” Anthony lifted his head from where it had been pillowed upon one arm.
Ian shook his head. “No; she wouldn’t say a word, nor show me.”
“Green,” Thomas mused. “I’d have guessed blue.”
No; it had to be green. To match her eyes. She hadasked his opinion after a fashion, since she’d wanted to have a new gown made up for the occasion. Something he’d not seen before; something she’d chosen herself. And he’d told her he thought green suited her. She’d neither agreed nor argued.
But she had smiled. So it had to be green.
“Blue’s a bit overdone, wouldn’t you say?” Anthony asked.
“Of course you’d think so,” Thomas replied. “Charity wore red to your wedding.”
The reverend, who had since reappeared from the vestry, lifted his brows in scandalized horror. “Red? To herwedding?”
Anthony lifted his head, shot the reverend a quelling glance, made doubly ominous for the fact that he had but one eye from which to issue it. “And she looked lovely,” he said, in a darkling tone that suggested that the reverend ought to consider the matter beyond further discussion.
The church doors opened, and all conversation ceased. Charity and Mercy appeared first, haloed in the early morning light, arm in arm as they entered. And then, on their heels, Felicity appeared at last, her arm wound through Mrs. Nellie Lewis’.
The folds of the voluminous cloak Felicity wore to guard against the winter chill all but obscured the gown beneath it. But as she stepped fully inside the church, and turned to her sisters to aid her in removing it, little hints of seafoam-colored silk trimmed with lace emerged from beneath.
The cloak came free. Ian sucked in a breath, braced one hand upon the arm of the nearest pew.
Anthony drawled, “Well. I had planned a properly menacing caution over what Mr. Carlisle might expect of us should he prove himself a poor husband. But even a fool could see that such a speech will not be necessary.”
“Oh, no,” Charity said brightly. “You should caution him still. Perhaps it is not necessary, but it is appreciated.”
Ian hardly heard. When he’d recovered himself enough that he could be certain his knees would not collapse beneath him, he strode straight down the aisle for Felicity. She looked soft and lovely in her seafoam green silk with its delicate lace trim. The capped sleeves clung to her shoulders, the neckline not quite low enough to be considered daring, but far less modest than the high-necked dresses in which he’d most often seen her. The full skirts swished with each step. Her hair had been artfully styled, curls tamed into shining, silky submission, a few left to drape down the back of her neck and to frame her face. Her eyes sparkled, glinting with mischief. There was a bounce in her step, a lightness that buoyed her as she turned to meet him.
He reached for her with no other thought in his head but that he had to kiss her. Immediately. And he did, thrilling to the way she settled right into the crook of his arm and tipped her head back to meet his lips.
“Mr. Carlisle!” the reverend protested sharply, shocked.
Oops.
“You look beautiful,” Ian said as he withdrew, and a silly grin played about his mouth as a blush climbed into her cheeks. “You always look beautiful to me,” he clarified. “But today—today, especially so.”
That blush burned brighter still. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “It took just ages to fix my hair. And then we had to stop at the school for Nellie.”
She had come. She had come, and she was glowing and bright and effervescent. All joy, not the tiniest iota of hesitance. He didn’t care what had kept her. She’dcome.“Of course. Are you ready?” he asked, clasping her hand inhis.
“Yes—oh.” Her fingers squeezed his as she turned to Nellie. “Would you give me away?” she asked.
Nellie’s face crinkled in a broad smile, her eyes gleaming with a sudden sheen of tears. “My dear girl,” she said. “I’d be delighted. And so very honored.”
“Thank you.” Felicity let slip his fingers to embrace the older woman, tucking her head against Nellie’s shoulder. “Just—thank you. For everything. I do love you.” She dashed a few stray tears from her eyes as she lifted her head once more. “There,” she said as she grasped Ian’s hand once more, without the least hesitance or apprehension. “I’m ready,” she said, and the conviction in her voice stripped away the last of his nerves.
And they walked forward together, toward the end of the aisle and into the future.
