Page 61 of The Trouble With Titles
As part of his financial planning, he had invested in the manufactory, securing his place as an equal partner rather than a charity case for Eleanor Bigsby. This had been his most fervent wish—to unite with Madeline and guide Bigsby’s into a new era. He had worried about making these decisions without consulting her, but he believed they had discussed their dreams enough over the years. Eleanor had even agreed to cancel the negotiation if Madeline was unhappy with the arrangement. Thankfully, she was more than satisfied with the direction their future was taking.
When they reached the house, Nicholas held the door open, his lips twitching as Simon let go of Madeline’s hand. They followed their guests into the dining room, the space aglow with the shimmer of glass and silver reflecting the light from oil lamps. Tall candles flickered in a faint draught, cooling the room’s heat. He and Mrs. Bigsby had timed their return so that Madeline had not eaten much earlier, ensuring her favorite foods would be enjoyed during their wedding supper.
Meanwhile, Duncan and Simon’s valet were moving his belongings into her bedchamber so they could retire to their new home together. It might have been disloyal to admit, but Simon was thrilled to join the Bigsby household, which had been an oasis of peace during his youth. It was a relief to leave the past behind after the nightmarish events that had transpired during his last stay.
Dinner was warm and informal, with Trafford standing mid-meal to raise his glass.
“I propose a toast to new beginnings.”
“Hear, hear!” John called out, echoed by Nicholas.
“To my new chum, Simon, who turns out to be an excellent chap, and his bride, Lady Campbell, for her iron stomach.” The reference to Madeline’s body, a topic typically taboo in mixed company, set off a gale of laughter around the table. Trafford waited for the laughter to subside before continuing, “May they enjoy a long and healthy union!”
“Huzza!”
John stood, and Simon was heartened to see his brother’s improved vitality. In the glow of lamps and candlelight, John’s complexion looked far healthier than when Simon had left. He lifted his glass.
“I can confirm that my brother Simon is indeed an excellent chap! Mrs. Bigsby, I am heartened that our families have united under such happy circumstances, and I look forward to enjoying your company in the years to come.”
Eleanor smiled broadly, giving a nod of acknowledgment as the other guests tittered and sipped their wine.
Madeline’s Uncle Reginald rose to speak next. A slim, elderly gentleman with a thick gray mustache, he had an amiable manner. Simon knew he had been instrumental in helping Eleanor establish her business in a male-dominated world.
“It seems just yesterday that young Eleanor arrived in London as a widow with twin babes in her arms. Witnessing my niece’s nuptials this evening is a testament to the passage of time, marked by glorious success. All my nieces are impressive pioneers, and I could not be more proud. So, to Madeline and her Lord Campbell, I wish a long and happy marriage!”
The room filled with the clinking of glasses. Simon leaned toward Madeline, pleased to see her smiling face and shining eyes.
“Are you happy, fair Psyche?”
“Ecstatic! But …” Madeline leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What happens next?” She looked up at him, her amber eyes shimmering with shy curiosity. Simon caught the hint in her gaze and knew exactly where her thoughts were drifting.
Grinning, he bent down, his breath warm against her ear. “What would you like to happen next?”
She blushed, and Simon watched in fascination as the color spread up her neck, tinting even the delicate shells of her ears. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and a wave of desire surged through him. His thoughts wandered to later that evening, imagining the moment he would join her in bed. The scent of orange blossoms hung in the air, teasing his senses as he envisioned unveiling her beauty to his hungry gaze.
“Are you … joining me?”
He could not help it; his lips curled into a predatory smile. “My men are working with your Miss Moreau to move my things. We are finally together, fair Psyche, and there will be no more interruptions to our destiny.”
Madeline smiled, her bare hand slipping under the table to find his. Simon covered it, stroking his thumb over her soft knuckles.
“I am so grateful I went looking for my mother when I did. What if I had not discovered you lying in the drawing room?”
Madeline grimaced at the reminder of that dreadful day. “She did not account for Lady Trafford’s presence, which only proves we were meant to be together. We are Eros and Psyche, are we not?”
Simon chuckled. “I wish we had not followed their path quite so closely. Venus attempting to be rid of you so thoroughly?”
Madeline inhaled deeply, then recited in a dramatic tone, “Even the gods shuddered at the sight of Venus’s wrath, for no one could temper the fury of the goddess of love.”
“Are you showing off your knowledge of Apulieus?” Simon teased.
Madeline flashed an impudent grin.
Simon stroked his thumb over her knuckles again and cleared his throat. “Love had conquered the god of love himself, and Eros, burning with passion, defied his mother's orders.”
She winced playfully. “It has been a trial, but I’m glad we found a happy ending.”
“Indeed. We have been victims of my mother’s interference. I look forward to living without her shadow looming over us.”
