Page 22 of The Baron's Return
“We’re going shopping for you, silly goose. We’re buying you a new dress for your wedding and everything you could possibly need for your trousseau.”
Abigail could feel the heat creep into her face. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been thinking about what the physical side of her marriage would be like. She’d only been with Cranston that one time when they’d conceived Gemma. While the experience had been enjoyable, the pain had dulled the pleasure a little. It had also been a hurried affair since they were both afraid of being caught after slipping away during the last ball of the season. Cranston had assured her that their time together would be more enjoyable in the future since she no longer had her maidenhead. But they’d never had the opportunity to be together again.
Her couplings with her husband, before he’d banished her from his sight after she gave birth, had been even worse than that first time with Cranston.
But the way Cranston had kissed her when he proposed… He’d ignited every fiber of her being. A heat had risen within her that she’d never experienced, and she’d wanted him with a desperation she hadn’t thought she would ever experience.
But she needed to be practical. “I still cannot afford Madame Argent’s prices. But perhaps you can help me find some things at another modiste’s shop.”
Amelia waved a hand. “Nonsense. I’ve already told Cranston that I was taking you to the dressmaker today and that he would be paying the bill.” She touched shoulders with her, her grin widening. “Trust me, the two of you will thank me for this later.”
Chapter 13
The rest of the week sped by with a flurry of activity. But the one daily constant was Cranston, who came to spend time with Gemma. It filled Abigail’s heart with joy to watch the two of them grow closer.
When he wasn’t there, Gemma peppered her with questions about their future. Would he come live with them or would they move into his house? Would they stay in London? Could they still adopt one of the neighbor’s kittens when they were old enough to be separated from their mother? And the question that broke her heart—would they live together forever or would they have to live in separate houses one day?
Abigail did her best to assure her that when they became a family, they would stay together. And she would do everything in her power to ensure that came to pass. Even if Cranston couldn’t love her again, she would be everything he could want in a wife. Not just for her daughter’s sake but for her own as well. Now that the universe had seen fit to give her a second chance with this man, she wouldn’t squander it.
It did worry her that Cranston’s demeanor toward her remained aloof. Much to her disappointment, there was no repeat of the kiss they’d shared after she accepted his proposal. That fact had her worrying about their wedding night. She wasn’t very experienced in the ways of lovemaking. She knew the basics, yes, but she also knew there was more to it than just lying there and allowing a man to take pleasure in her body. If Cranston didn’t guide her on what he wanted from her in the bedchamber, would she be able to keep him from seeking his pleasure elsewhere?
She considered asking Amelia for advice but in the end was too embarrassed to broach the subject. She would just have to see what happened first. The marchioness had already stressed that it was important she wear one of the special nightdresses they’d ordered on their shopping trip if she wanted to fully ensnare Cranston’s attention. The garments had begun to arrive shortly after visiting Bond Street, and she’d blushed when she thought of her maid packing the daring slips of fabric away. She only hoped they would help in setting the right tone for her wedding night.
The morning of her wedding to Cranston dawned bright and clear, if a little cooler than normal for summer. Abigail wasn’t one to give credence to signs, but she couldn’t help but think it was a fitting metaphor for their upcoming marriage. Full of promise but with more than a hint of coolness between her and Cranston.
Viscount Holbrook had insisted on sending his carriage for her that morning. She thanked the butler, who was smiling fondly at her and Gemma as he held the town house door open for her. Today would be the last time she left this house as an unwed woman. She and Gemma had only been in town less than two months, scarce long enough to grow attached to their new home, but a part of her would miss it. She attributed the strength of that emotion today to her uncertainty about the future.
During one of his visits, Cranston told her how Holbrook had sought him out and that her husband’s heir had even threatened to meet him at dawn if he hurt Abigail. She knew that Holbrook was only going out of his way to protect her and Gemma because he wanted to make up for how his great-uncle had neglected them.
But she couldn’t deny that hearing the annoyance in his tone when Cranston relayed the details about that discussion gave her a sliver of hope about the future. She held on to the memory of the flash of what she hoped was jealousy that she’d seen in his eyes that day, telling herself it was proof that his feelings for her might not be dead after all.
She climbed into the carriage after Gemma, and they were followed by Miss Phillips. Gemma’s governess was charged with looking after her daughter during the ceremony, and Abigail saw no point in sending her in another carriage.
Gemma was bouncing in the seat next to her. Miss Phillips opened her mouth to admonish her charge about curbing her exuberance, but Abigail smiled at the older woman and shook her head.
“It might be best to allow her to expend some of her excess energy now, before we get to the chapel.” She looked down at Gemma. “Where you won’t be bouncing in your seat.”
“No, Mama,” Gemma said before wrapping her short arms around Abigail’s waist.
She dropped a kiss onto Gemma’s head, careful not to muss the artful array of dark curls. Gemma’s hair had a natural wave to it, so it hadn’t taken long to create the hairstyle. Gemma wouldn’t have had the patience to sit still if that weren’t true.
Gemma looked particularly lovely that day, her coloring contrasting with her white dress. Abigail’s own dress was a pale gold color, only slightly darker than her fair hair, which was also swept up in curls that had taken a great deal more effort to create. Abigail’s hair was normally straight, and she hated how long it took with the heated tongs to curl her hair, but she’d sat through the ordeal because she wanted to look her best today.
Her hand went up to finger the double strand of pearls at her throat. She’d been surprised when a delivery from Cranston had arrived early that morning. Her hands had shaken when she opened the small, elaborately wrapped package topped with white ribbons to find the necklace nestled within on a bed of dark silk along with a pair of delicate pearl earrings.
As she stroked the small beads, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d sent the jewelry as a gesture of his willingness to give their marriage a real chance or if he’d sent them because he hated the idea of her wearing jewels her deceased husband had given her. He couldn’t have known that she possessed no such jewelry.
Whatever his true motivation, she chose to take it as a sign that their union would be a happy one. Today she would begin her life anew, and finally she was on the path she should have taken all those years ago.
It was a short trip to the chapel, and soon the carriage was slowing to a stop. Abigail took a deep breath, expecting… something. Butterflies in her belly, the feeling that her heart was beginning to race. Instead, she was filled with a bone-deep certainty that she had made the right choice in accepting Cranston’s proposal.
She turned slightly on the carriage bench and hugged Gemma tightly. “I love you,” she said, allowing the embrace to continue a little longer than normal. After today it would no longer be just the two of them. Gemma’s father would now have an active role in her life.
Finally she pulled back and smiled down at her daughter. “Be sure to mind Miss Phillips.” She watched as the pair stepped down from the carriage with the assistance of a footman.
“I love you, Mama!” Her daughter’s words floated back into the carriage as the two made their way into the chapel.
Holbrook replaced the footman at the carriage door and held out a hand. “Are you ready?”
