Merely the Groom Page 16

  “I will.”

  The rector had them repeat more vows and make more promises until at last, he paused and asked for the ring.

  “Here.” Griff handed Colin a gold wedding band.

  Colin stared at the gold band as he waited for Alyssa, Griff’s duchess, to help Gillian unbutton and remove her gloves. He and Griff had purchased the wedding band and the betrothal ring at Dalrymple’s Jewelers earlier that morning.

  Colin had still been reeling from the discovery that his father had gambled away the Grantham titular jewels when he made his way to Griff’s Park Lane mansion shortly after dawn.

  He hadn’t worried about waking Griff or Alyssa. Griff rarely slept through the night since his return from the Peninsula, and his duchess was known to be an early riser.

  They were having coffee in the morning room when Colin rang the front doorbell. Griff and Alyssa invited him to join them, and then listened as Colin relayed the details of his interview with his mother and the fact that the jewelry he’d intended to give to his bride was a collection of paste made from cut glass and base metal.

  The revelation came as no surprise. But what was done couldn’t be undone. And no amount of recrimination could change that. Colin needed help. Alyssa and Griff had looked at one another and spoken one word in unison. “Dalrymple’s.”

  “Dalrymple’s?” Colin echoed.

  “Dalrymple’s Jewelers on Bond Street,” Griff answered as Alyssa held out her left hand so Colin could admire the jeweler’s work.

  The Duchess of Avon’s betrothal ring was a delicate confection comprised of a large purple center stone surrounded by a circle of smaller green stones, accented by several diamonds, and set in a gold setting. It looked like a purple flower blooming in the midst of a group of bright green leaves sparkling with droplets of rain or dew.

  “It’s lovely,” Colin said. “But I doubt I’ll be able to marshal the finances needed to purchase anything quite as lovely.”

  “But the girl you’re marrying is a very wealthy young lady,” Alyssa said.

  Colin nodded. “She is. But I’m not. And I refuse to use any portion of her dowry to purchase her betrothal ring. She shouldn’t have to buy her own ring—in whatever fashion. Unfortunately, a betrothal ring equal in value to the one my father gambled away is beyond my current means.” Colin raked his fingers through his hair in a show of frustration. “Where am I going to find a betrothal ring I can afford at this late date?”

  “We’d give you the bird’s egg if we could,” Alyssa offered, describing the betrothal ring with the huge canary yellow diamond that Griff had refused to present to her. “But it’s an Abernathy family heirloom, and it’s so horribly big and gaudy no one with taste wants to wear it.” She looked at Colin. “I’m the second or third Abernathy bride to prefer something smaller. The only person we know who loves it is the Prince Regent.”

  “And your mother,” Griff added. “And not because it’s beautiful but because it’s worth a bloody fortune.” He paused for a moment, then turned to Colin. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “How can I help but worry?” Colin asked. “I’m getting married at ten, and the jewelers on Bond Street—including your favorite, Dalrymple’s—don’t open until nine, and I’ve no betrothal or wedding ring to offer.”

  Griff laughed. “It’s times like these when it pays to be a very good customer.”

  “I’m not a good customer,” Colin replied. “I’m not any kind of customer.”

  “I am.”

  “Are you planning to write me a letter of introduction?” Colin asked.

  “No.” Griff shook his head. “I intend to do better than that. I’m your best man, and since you’ve no experience in the purchase of fine jewelry, I intend to go with you and see that you purchase a ring worthy of your viscountess.”

  “What do I use as capital?” Colin asked. “I don’t have a king’s ransom to spend on a betrothal ring.”

  “You won’t need it. Not with Dalrymple. His work is original and quite beyond the pale. He uses the highest quality stones and settings, and he’ll create companion pieces to match anything you choose as a betrothal ring.” Griff looked at Colin. “He’s the best, and it just so happens that he’s been itching to get a close look at the bird’s egg to see if there is any way to tastefully reset it without cutting the diamond. I’ll wager we can work out an arrangement to make your purchases more affordable.”

  “Griff...” Colin started to protest, but Griff wouldn’t hear of it.

  “I’ll stand good for any pieces you choose until you’re able to pay for them.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that,” Colin said.

  “You aren’t asking,” Griff said. “We’re offering.”

  “But...” Colin began again.

  Griff held up his hand to forestall the argument he knew Colin was about to make. “This is one time you shouldn’t allow your pride to stand in your way.”

  “I have no pride,” Colin retorted. “Or I wouldn’t have laid this problem at your door.”

  Griff laughed. “You’re the proudest, most stubborn Scot I’ve ever met. And the finest.” He reached over and placed his hand on Colin’s arm. “Don’t worry, Colin, after nearly twenty years of friendship, I know enough of your character to know you’ll repay any amount I advance you or die trying.”

  Colin frowned.

  “What now?”

  “I keep thinking about Shakespeare.”

  “Shakespeare? You?”

  “Aye,” Colin answered. “I keep worrying about Polonius’s speech to Laertes in Hamlet. ‘Neither a borrower or a lender be for a loan oft loses both itself and friend and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.’”

  Griff laughed once again. “Aren’t you the fellow who once scoffed at Shakespeare’s grasp of human nature?”

  “I am,” Colin admitted. “But this is different.”

  “I vow it is,” Griff agreed. “’Tis a world gone mad when Viscount Grantham purchases jewelry, gets engaged, and quotes Shakespeare in the same day.”

  “Griff…”

  “One more word,” Griff warned, “and I’ll make you a gift of the money.” Griff lifted the coffeepot from its resting place in the center of the table. “Here. Have some more coffee while I get dressed, and then we’ll go roust Dalrymple out of bed.”

  Griff was as good as his word.

  A quarter of an hour later, Colin had stood before the jeweler’s impressive display of original designs. After studying everything the jeweler had to offer, Colin had finally selected a large oval pink sapphire surrounded by a dozen matched round diamonds in a delicate gold setting.

  He had purchased the simple gold wedding band he held in his hand because it complemented the betrothal ring Gillian had just unbuttoned her glove to reveal.

  As he stared down at her hand, Colin was enormously pleased with his choice. Although he’d debated over the purchase of the blue sapphire or the pink one, Colin realized that the unique setting and the pink sapphires suited Gillian’s delicate hand and coloring much better than the more common blue sapphires.

  He took her hand in his once again, held the gold band at the tip of the ring finger on her left hand. Colin’s gaze never left her face as he repeated his final vows. “With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” He removed her betrothal ring, slipped the slim gold band onto her ring finger, and then placed the pink sapphire ring behind it.

  The pink sapphire betrothal ring was the most beautiful ring Gillian had ever seen. The elegant design of the setting and the color, cut, and arrangement of the stones reminded her of the graceful dance costumes worn by the ballerinas at the Royal Ballet. And the sparkle of the gems added to the illusion of movement and dance. The beauty enchanted her. And the plain gold wedding band matched it to perfection. The rings fit her hand as if they’d been made just for
her, and Gillian couldn’t help but admire the way they sparkled.

  Gillian had not dared hope that Lord Grantham would think to send a betrothal ring on the morning of the wedding—especially after such a brief engagement. After all, Colin Fox had planned his elopement with her for weeks, and he hadn’t remembered to provide rings for the ceremony. And Lord Grantham had only had one evening in which to prepare. Gillian sighed. She was aware that in aristocratic families, betrothal rings oftentimes were heirlooms passed from one generation to the next. Gillian was grateful that this particular ring was part of Lord Grantham’s family treasury. And she was particularly glad that he’d been able to persuade his mother to part with it As she bowed her head and closed her eyes for another prayer, Gillian selfishly prayed Lady McElreath wouldn’t want it back, because she would be loathe to return it

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  They didn’t budge.

  “Lord Grantham?” The rector spoke.

  “Yes?” Colin looked at him.

  “That concludes the ceremony. You may kiss your bride if you want to do so.”

  “May I?” Colin focused his attention on Gillian’s mouth and the way she bit her bottom lip to stop its tremor as he turned to ask permission.

  Gillian stared down at the nosegay of flowers and nodded. Colin lifted her chin with the tip of his index finger. Gillian tilted her head to one side and looked at him from beneath her veil in a move that would have seemed coy on another woman but was completely natural for her. She watched as Colin lifted her wedding veil off her face, then closed her eyes as he leaned toward her and gently brushed his lips over hers. She expected a different sort of contact, but Colin’s kiss, made up of equal measures of tenderness and reverence, affected her far more deeply than she thought possible. It was almost as if he’d touched her soul instead of her lips. And although she didn’t remember closing them, Gillian opened her eyes and met Colin’s intensely poignant green-eyed gaze. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “My pleasure.”

  “I meant for the beautiful ring,” Gillian clarified. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for remembering to procure one for the occasion.”

  Colin smiled. “I meant for the kiss.”

  Gillian blushed.

  “But I’m delighted to know you like the ring.”

  She glanced back down at her hand. “It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

  “I have.” Colin stared down at her.

  The husky tone in his voice caught her attention, and Gillian looked up at him once again. “You have?”

  He nodded. “A few minutes ago,” he replied, softly. “When you walked in the door. And I’m very grateful that this particular occasion called for that dress and a kiss.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed hard, barely managing the one syllable as her body sizzled with awareness at the look in Colin’s eyes. “You like my dress?”

  His voice was barely recognizable. “Very much.” Gillian beamed at him. “I was going to wear blue, but this one matched my betrothal ring.”

  “Thank God for pink sapphires,” he breathed.

  The rector cleared his throat. “The ceremony is over, my lord, except for the signing of the register.” He nodded toward the far end of the drawing room where the parish register lay open to the proper page, waiting for the bride and groom and the witnesses to record the wedding.

  Colin offered her his elbow. “Shall we?”

  Gillian nodded.

  “All right,” Colin said, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and making his way through the small gathering of friends and family to the parish register.

  Colin signed the register and handed the pen to Gillian. “Your turn, Lady Grantham.”

  Gillian blinked at the use of his title in relation to her, then carefully penned her second new name in as many months. Gillian McElreath, Viscountess Grantham.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.”

  —William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

  Romeo and Juliet

  “May I offer you our most sincere felicitations on your wedding, Lady Grantham?”

  Gillian looked up as the Duke of Avon bowed over her hand. “Thank you for coming, Your Grace. I’m honored that you and Her Grace stood up for us.”

  Gillian greeted guests in the huge dining room of her parents’ town house as they arrived for the wedding breakfast. When they’d entered the dining room and begun welcoming guests, Colin had been right beside her, but now he stood a few feet away, surrounded by late arrivals. Although the wedding party was quite small and the guests limited to immediate family and friends, the baron and Lady Davies had issued a greater number of invitations to the wedding breakfast. And it seemed that everyone who had been invited had decided to attend.

  The dining table, large enough to seat thirty people, had been moved from the center of the room to one wall, draped in yards of white satin and lace, and loaded with a buffet of fine foods—from thick juicy roasts to delicate seafood. Smaller tables had been set up in the center of the dining room for the bride and groom, their families, and members of the wedding party.

  Gillian nervously fidgeted with the skirts of her wedding dress and readjusted her veil. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and waited impatiently for the trial by fire to begin. She glanced at her new husband, wishing she appeared as relaxed as he did. Although she told herself everything would be fine, Gillian dreaded the scrutiny and the comments of the guests. The staff had worked long and hard in order to arrange such an impressive breakfast on incredibly short notice, and they had managed beautifully, but rumors about her still abounded, and her sudden marriage to Lord Grantham was certain to add a bit of fuel to that flame. It was only a matter of time before one of the wedding guests forgot their manners long enough to mention it.

  Fortunately, marriage to Lord Grantham came with a few bonuses—none the least of which was the fact that the Duke and Duchess of Avon had not only attended the wedding but had participated, serving as best man and matron of honor for the bride and groom. The duke and duchess’s parents had also accepted invitations to the wedding breakfast, and now, Gillian’s father—a baron who had previously only dreamed of moving in such imposing circles—was playing host to the Duke and Duchess of Avon, the Dowager Duchess of Sussex, the Marchioness of St. Germaine and the Dowager Marchioness of St. Germaine, the Earl and Countess of McElreath, the Earl and Countess of Weymouth, the Earl and Countess of Tressingham, as well as Viscount and Lady Harralson and a half-dozen other prominent London hostesses and businessmen who had all come at Lord Grantham’s invitation. She didn’t know quite how he had managed it or why they had chosen to do it, but the cream of London society had just closed ranks around her and her family, accepting them into their midst. Gillian still couldn’t believe it.

  “The honor was ours.” The Duchess of Avon moved to stand close to her husband’s side. “May I?” She reached for Gillian’s left hand. “I’ve been dying to get a closer look at your ring.” She studied the flawless pink sapphire. “It’s stunning!” She glanced at her husband.

  “Don’t look at me.” Griff held up his hand. “I didn’t select it. Colin did.”

  “Then you owe him an apology,” Alyssa commented. “For Colin has excellent taste in jewelry.” She turned Gillian’s hand so the sapphires and diamonds sparkled in the light, then leaned close and confided to Gillian, “And take it from me, that’s a wonderful quality in a husband. Mr. Dalrymple outdid himself on this one.”

  “Mr. Dalrymple?” Gillian queried. “The jeweler on Bond Street?”

  Alyssa nodded. “Yes.”

  “But when?” She paused. “We only agreed to marry yesterday… How did he manage?” Gillian asked, glancing over to where Colin stood talking with a man who bore such a resemblance that he could only be his father. “Are you certain this ring didn’t come from a Grantham family collection? That he didn’t borro
w it from Lady McElreath?”

  Alyssa bit her bottom lip, wondering if she’d just put her foot in her mouth. “No,” she answered honestly. “The Grantham family betrothal ring wasn’t half as fine as this one...” She looked to Griff.

  “Go on,” Griff urged, “you’ve told her this much, you might as well tell her the rest.”

  Alyssa took a deep breath. “Colin purchased this magnificent ring from Mr. Dalrymple this morning, especially for you.”

  Gillian was stunned. “He bought it this morning?”

  Griff nodded. “Colin woke Dalrymple up a little after dawn and stayed over two hours reviewing everything the jeweler had until he found the perfect ring. I know, because I accompanied him.”

  “And you still managed to make it on time for the ceremony.” Gillian was impressed by the effort Colin had made on her behalf.

  “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Alyssa assured her. “And we’re so very pleased to welcome you to our family.”

  “Your family, Your Grace? I didn’t realize you and Lord—” She stumbled over his formal title and caught herself in time. “I mean, Colin, are related.”

  “Call me Alyssa.” The duchess laughed, then nodded toward her husband. “And my husband is Griffin—or Griff, for short. And we aren’t Colin’s blood relations. It only feels that way, doesn’t it, Griffin?”

  “It does indeed,” the duke answered. “And actually, we are blood relations.” He held out his right palm so his wife and Gillian could see the thin, barely detectable white scar bisecting it. The three original Free Fellows had pricked their thumbs in order to sign the Free Fellows League Charter in blood, but they had completed the ritual afterward by raking the knifepoint across their right palms, creating thin ribbons of blood that merged as the boys shook hands with one another and became blood brothers for the rest of their lives. “Colin and I met at school when we were boys. We’ve different parents, but he is my brother. We mingled our blood and made it so.”

  Alyssa looked at Gillian and gave a mock shudder. “Little boys are the only creatures on earth who mark their friendships by drawing blood.”