Merely the Groom by Rebecca Hagan Lee
“But, Colin, you’re a viscount, and your father and I had high hopes that you’d make an excellent match,” she said.
“I believe Gillian and I are well matched.”
“Her father is new money. You are old money. Lord Davies just acquired the title of baron,” Lady McElreath reminded him. “Your title predates Macbeth.”
Colin looked his mother in the eye. “Unfortunately, our fortune hasn’t exhibited the same longevity.”
She sent him a sharp look. “I’ll not hear a word of blame against your father for that.”
Colin had always found it rather ironic that while his mother could voice her concerns and frustrations about his father’s gambling to her eldest son, she wouldn’t allow any of her children to do so. “I’m not blaming Father for losing the family fortune,” Colin said. “That decline began long before he inherited. I blame Father for continuing the decline, for not meeting his obligations to his family or to his creditors.”
“He’s a good man. A loving man. He would do anything for me or for his children.”
“Except stay away from the gaming tables,” Colin muttered.
“The gambling is a sickness he cannot control.”
“I know that, Maman,” Colin said wearily.
“He loves you,” his mother said. “He wants only the best for you, his son and heir. He wants a lady from a great family and fortune.”
“I’ve no doubt that Gillian’s parents want a husband of great family and fortune for her,” Colin pointed out.
“We are a great family,” Lady McElreath insisted. “The McElreaths are one of the oldest families in Scotland and England, and my family, the Hepburns, are equally ancient and well-connected in Scotland and France.”
Colin took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. “Then consider my marriage to Gillian Davies an excellent bargain. I am heir to the great and ancient name and titles, and Gillian is heir to the great and modern fortune.” He gave his mother a firm look that brooked no argument. “Father was your choice. Gillian is mine. And despite what you’ve heard or choose to believe, she is a lady of family and fortune and should be welcomed as Viscountess Grantham and treated with the respect her title and her place as my wife affords her—especially since her money will permit our great family to continue to live the life we’ve never been able to fully afford.”
Lady McElreath inhaled sharply at her son’s tactful reprimand. “I would never make your bride feel unwelcome or treat her with anything less than the respect to which she’s entitled as your wife.”
“I never thought that you would, Maman.” Colin soothed his mother’s ruffled feathers. “I simply wanted to make my position perfectly clear. Just as you will not hear a bad word against Father, neither will I tolerate an unkind word or remark directed at Gillian.”
“You may rest assured that she will never hear one from me or from anyone around me,” Lady McElreath replied.
Colin nodded. “I knew I could count on you, Maman. Thank you.” He finished his coffee and set the cup back down on its saucer. “There is one other detail that demands my attention before the wedding.” He looked at his mother. “I require the Grantham betrothal ring and wedding set and the rest of the Grantham jewels. I wish to present the betrothal ring to Gillian before our wedding and present her with the other Grantham jewels during the wedding breakfast.”
Lady McElreath rang for the butler and instructed him to ask her lady’s maid to bring her jewel boxes. The maid delivered the jewel cases ten minutes later. After unlocking the leather cases, Lady McElreath dismissed her lady’s maid and sent her back upstairs to bed. She handed the blue leather case to Colin. “The red case is for the McElreath jewels and the blue one contains the Grantham jewels.”
Colin lifted the lid on the blue leather case and stared at the top tray. The Grantham betrothal ring and wedding band were missing, and all the other rings in the case were set with cut glass. He lifted two additional trays to look at the necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and diadems stored for safekeeping, then looked over at his mother. “These are all cut glass and paste.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I know.”
“What happened to the real ones?” Colin asked.
“They were sold.”
The only person who could have sold them was the Earl of McElreath: his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, or one of his earlier ancestors. Colin suspected he knew all too well who had pawned the jewelry, but he asked the question nonetheless. “By whom? And how long ago?”
“He meant to retrieve them,” Lady McElreath said quietly.
“When? And from whom?” Colin demanded.
Lady McElreath took a deep breath. “It began years ago while you were away at school. Your father pawned a few of the lesser pieces of the Grantham jewelry to pay debts. He meant to retrieve them. He promised that as soon as his luck changed, he’d buy the pieces back from the pawnbroker, but...”
“His luck never changed,” Colin concluded bitterly.
“You were a little boy away at school,” Lady McElreath repeated. “He thought he’d have plenty of time to replace the pieces he’d lost before you reached your majority.”
“Maman,” Colin reminded his mother. “It’s been nearly eight years since I attained my majority.”
“I know,” she answered, nodding her head and staring down at the red leather case she held in her lap.
“Has he pawned the McElreath jewels and replaced them with paste, too?”
“No,” Lady McElreath replied. “He hasn’t touched mine.”
Colin clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw ached. Of course his father hadn’t pawned the jewels his mother would wear in public and replaced those with paste. The Earl of McElreath had a position to uphold. He was an inveterate gambler and a gentleman. Gambling away his son’s inheritance was unfortunate, but losing the jewelry that belonged to the Countess of McElreath was unthinkable. Replacing that jewelry with paste would upset and embarrass his wife, cause speculation, and ultimately require some sort of explanation among the ton. It might also lead people to think that Lord McElreath couldn’t afford his expensive gambling habits. And a man in his position could do without that sort of speculation and grief. Far better to pay his creditors and fuel further trips to the gaming tables with the jewels meant for his son’s bride.
“Of course not,” Colin agreed. “It was far more sensible to lose the courtesy title’s family stones.”
“Don’t be so hard on him, Colin,” his mother admonished. “You’re nine and twenty, and until now, you’ve shown no interest in taking a bride.”
“Part of the reason I’ve shown no interest in taking a bride is because I knew I had nothing to offer a young lady of quality.” The other part of the reason was the vow Colin had taken when he and his two friends had created the Free Fellows League. But the League was their secret, and his mother didn’t need to know about that.
“That’s nonsense!” Lady McElreath scoffed. “You have a great deal to offer any young lady of quality.”
“Do I, Maman?” he queried. “Because Lord Kelverton made it quite clear that I had nothing to offer Esme.”
“Oh, good heavens, Colin, that was years ago! You were a little boy. Esme was a young girl.”
“We were betrothed from the cradle. Lord Kelverton knew Father’s predilection for gaming, but that never lessened his desire to join our families by having me marry his daughter until...” Colin stopped and turned his focused stare on his mother. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“What’s it?” She pretended not to understand, but Lady McElreath had never been any good at pretending, and Colin knew it.
“The reason Lord Kelverton broke the marriage contract. Father’s gambling didn’t concern Lord Kelverton until he discovered that Father had gambled away Esme’s future inheritance.”
“They weren’t Esme’s future inheritance, they were yours,” Lady McElreath said.
“Yes,” Colin agreed. “The jewelr
“What will you do for a betrothal ring?”
Colin shrugged. “I don’t know. But you needn’t concern yourself about it, Maman. I’ll take care of it.” Colin stood up, walked over to his mother, bent, and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Maman.”
Lady McElreath stopped him before he reached the drawing room door. “Colin! Wait!”
He turned to find his mother tugging at her betrothal ring and gold wedding band.
“Use these,” she said. “They’re real.”
“No, Maman,” Colin shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I won’t ask my bride to seal her wedding vows with borrowed rings.”
“She need never know these aren’t the Grantham jewels,” Lady McElreath said, holding out the emerald and diamond betrothal ring and her gold wedding band, urging her son to take them.
“I’ll know, Maman,” Colin said quietly.
Lady McElreath bit her lip and nodded.
“Sleep well, Maman. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Colin...”
She made another attempt to stop him, but Colin ignored the pleading note in her tone of voice. He had a great deal to accomplish before his wedding and only a few more hours in which to do it.
Chapter Fifteen
“In thy face I see
The map of honor, truth, and loyalty.”
—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
King Henry VI, Part 2
If anyone had questioned his bravery in the moments before Gillian entered the drawing room of her parents’ town house, Colin could not have found offense or been tempted to issue a challenge to defend his honor. He would have had no reason. He couldn’t argue fact, and the fact was that although he had never fancied himself a coward, every instinct for self-preservation he’d ever possessed was urging him to make a break for the front door.
Colin’s heart pounded in his chest, and he could almost smell his own fear and feel the color leeching from his face as he fought to come up with some graceful way to make his exit. For the first time in his life, Colin thought he might faint or run screaming out the door in sheer terror.
Griff must have sensed it as well, for he placed his hand on Colin’s arm and murmured beneath his breath, “Steady on, Colin. The panic will pass.”
Colin disagreed. The panic was rising. And his rising panic declared that he was a lifelong Free Fellow, and a Free Fellow didn’t stand before a clergyman and promise to love, honor, and cherish a woman he barely knew. Except Griff. But the situation had been different when Griff’s father ordered his son to marry.
Colin glanced over at his friend. How in Hades had Griff survived it?
“Breathe deeply,” Griff advised, reading his mind once again. “And keep breathing. It will be over before you know it.”
Would it? Colin knew he’d only been standing before the rector and the assembled guests for a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. And he didn’t know how much longer he could continue to stand on legs that wobbled from the strain of standing still or that threatened to give way at any moment. Colin shifted his weight from one leg to the other and back again. He’d felt less fear facing down assassins. Leaning toward Griff, Colin whispered, “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Griff whispered back. “Look.” He nodded toward the doorway. “Here’s your bride.”
Colin followed Griff’s lead and turned toward the doorway as Gillian entered the room on her father’s arm.
His panic died a quick death at the sight of her, replaced by a much more powerful emotion. “Bon Dieu, but she’s breathtaking!”
“She is that,” Griff agreed. “Almost as breathtaking as my Alyssa.”
That was Griff’s opinion. As far as Colin was concerned, no woman had ever been or could ever be as breathtakingly beautiful as Gillian Davies was at that moment. He couldn’t see her face clearly through the lace of her bridal veil, but he gave what he hoped was a warm and welcoming smile instead of the wolfish grin he was fighting hard to control. And though her veil obscured it, Colin thought she returned his smile with a rather shy smile of her own.
He drew another deep breath and slowly expelled it, surprised to find that he was suddenly calm and completely certain that exchanging vows with Gillian was what he’d been born to do. Who would have guessed that that tantalizingly soft fragrance of lemons and musk would fill him with as much resolute determination to have her as his wife as the image of her in her wedding dress?
And what a wedding dress it was! Colin shook his head as if to clear it. The silk layers clung to her figure, molding to her body in all the right places. The dress skimmed over her trim waist and hips, brushing her thighs as she moved, and the bodice beneath the squared neckline created a delicate cradle for the gentle swell of bosom visible through her veil. His mouth went dry as she moved forward, and Colin fought to follow Griff’s advice and breathe.
If he had had to choose a color for her to wear, Colin would have chosen a bright robin’s egg blue to accentuate the color of her eyes. He’d never much cared for the pale confections of muslin, ribbons, and lace currently in vogue. He appreciated the daring styles, but the insipid colors did nothing for most of the blond, blue-eyed, fair-skinned young ladies of his acquaintance. And he expected something brighter and bolder from his bride. Something to match her personality. But Gillian had just changed his mind about fashion. He would never have guessed a dress of pale, almost translucent pink the color of delicate rose petals would become her ivory complexion. But it did.
The sight of her in that dress stole the air from his lungs, and the lump in his throat threatened to keep him from repeating the vows that would bind him to her for all eternity and grant him permission to see what lay beneath the tantalizing panels of delicate rose-colored silk and lace.
Colin waited until Gillian’s father moved away before he stepped closer.
The rector lifted his prayer book and nodded toward Colin. “If you will, Lord Grantham, take hold of your bride’s left hand.”
Gillian handed her nosegay of flowers from the garden to the Duchess of Avon, who was acting as her matron of honor, as Colin reached for her hand. She hadn’t carried any flowers at her first wedding, and she hadn’t had anyone to attend her. The blacksmith had provided the required two witnesses. She smiled at the duchess and received a warm smile in return. Gillian still couldn’t quite believe that England’s newest hero and his wife had not only graced them with their presence at her wedding to Viscount Grantham but had offered to stand up for them. And what was even more surprising was that the Duke and Duchess of Avon were genuinely honored to do it.
Gillian cast a sideways glance at her groom. If one could judge a man by the company he kept, Colin McElreath was an exceptional man, highly regarded by his august friends. And he was about to become her husband.
The clergyman cleared his throat and began the service. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony...” He looked at Gillian and then turned to look at Colin. “I require and charge you both as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why you may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it.”
A half hour ago, Colin would have willingly listed any number of impediments to matrimony; now all he wanted was to seal the deal and, in the vernacular of his father, let the chips fall where they may.
He narrowed his focus until all he could see was Gilli
“Colin McElreath, twenty-seventh Viscount Grantham, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” Colin replied in a voice that resonated with willingness to take his vows to heart and to honor them.
Gillian looked up at him and recognized the firm resolve in his clear green eyes. He means it, she realized. With the exception of promising to love her, Colin McElreath meant every word he’d just repeated.
Gillian smiled. Theirs was a hastily thrown together wedding, but Colin repeated his vows as if it had been planned for months or even years. He may not have wanted to marry her, but he made certain that everyone within earshot thought otherwise. He was saving her from her own romantic foolishness, offering himself up as husband to replace the one who had played her false and then abandoned her, but no one listening to him promise to love, honor, and cherish her would ever have reason to doubt him.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Lord Grantham was giving himself over to her, and Gillian vowed that he wouldn’t regret his decision. She didn’t know how or when, but she promised herself that one day, she would earn his respect and his admiration—if not his heart.
“Gillian Davies, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”