Page 97 of Project Duchess
Epilogue
Of course, Grey got his way concerning their wedding. Three months to the day from the death of Beatrice’s uncle Maurice, they got married.
Not that Beatrice minded. With so many relations around, she and Grey had never had the chance to be alone, so three months had seemed like threeyears. Especially since he’d been forced to spend time at his properties without her, arranging matters so they could go on an extended wedding trip in the Lake Country. Now all she had to do was endure this interminable wedding breakfast. Then she could have Grey to herself at last.
He and his family had honored her wishes—to be married at Armitage Hall. It was the only way to have her aunt and Gwyn and her cousins attend, since they were all still in mourning. Fortunately, no one considered it odd if a man like Grey married while in mourning, especially since the person who died had been his stepfather, not his father.
Grey came up behind her. “When can we respectably leave?” he murmured.
She laughed. “You’re askingme? I have no idea what rule that is. Your mother was too busy planning this to give me lessons in wedding behavior.”
Sheridan approached them accompanied by a stranger. “Heywood didn’t get here in time for the ceremony, but at least he made it in time for the breakfast.”
“Heywood? I would never have recognized you!” Grey said. “My God, I had no idea you were coming.” He enveloped the fellow in a bear hug as Beatrice stood back enjoying the sight of familial camaraderie.
Heywood looked a bit like Sheridan, but more like his father, with Maurice’s hazel eyes and high brow. And judging from the one portrait they had of a young Maurice, Heywood also had his father’s light brown hair, except that Heywood’s was streaked blond from his time on the Peninsula. He was as tall as Grey, though, which she could tell when the two men broke apart.
This was one important legacy of Grey’s putting his resentment of his parents to rest. His relationship with his family had become easier. Even Sheridan had said only the other night that Grey was more like the adult version of his ten-year-old self than like the scary chap who’d first come to see them at Armitage Hall.
Her reply was that no one had bothered to dig beneath the surface. If they had, they would have found the same little boy cowering in the corner as she had, though it had taken her time to unearth him.
Grey drew back and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Beatrice, may I introduce Colonel Lord Heywood Wolfe of the Tenth Hussars, who is also your cousin and my half brother?”
“And my baby brother,” Sheridan chimed in.
Heywood shook his head. “Sheridan always insists on saying that because he thinks it irks me. What he doesn’t realize is it merely illustrates I’m younger than he is.” He grinned at Sheridan. “Right, old man?”
“By one year,” Sheridan grumbled. “That hardly counts.”
“If you say so.” Heywood bowed to her. “And it’s a pleasure to meet the woman brave enough to marry Grey.”
“I don’t know where you got the impression that I’m some great terror to women,” Grey drawled.
“From Sheridan,” Heywood retorted, sparing a wink for her.
“I said no such thing, you damned troublemaker,” Sheridan shot back. “Now I remember why I was so happy to have you gone.”
Heywood clutched at his heart. “That’s a hard blow, considering that I took a leave of absence to come help you with this old pile.”
“That’snotwhy you came home, and you know it. You’re only here because—”
“Boys, boys,” Beatrice said, biting back a smile. “Could you at least wait until the breakfast is over before coming to blows? Gwyn and your mother will hang you up by your . . . um . . . earlobes if you destroy the decorations they so carefully picked out.”
“It’s possible Gwyn would hang them by something decidedly lower,” Grey said.
Beatrice gazed up at him. “I was going to say that, but I wasn’t sure how serious you were about your duchess being able to speak her mind.”
“Around this lot?” Grey snagged a glass of punch from a passing footman. “You have to speak your mind if you’re going to compete with the likes of Heywood.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Heywood said. “I’m an officer and a gentleman.”
She patted his hand. “I’m sure you are. Grey is also a gentleman two days a week.”
“What?” Grey cried in mock outrage. “It must be at least three. I’m certain of it.”
Sheridan had been watching their bantering with an impatient look, and now took the chance to jump in. “I know you’re itching to get out of here, Grey, but I have to talk to you privately about something urgent.”
Grey raised an eyebrow. “Not a chance. The last time you wished to talk to me privately in the midst of a social situation, you were accusing Beatrice’s brother of murder. So I think I’ll pass. It’s my wedding day, after all.”
