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The following morning
“Shush, stop complaining. The gown will fit you if you keep still.”
Holly shot Willow a dark look in the mirror. After Jonathan had freed her, she’d asked him to take her directly to her father, who had demanded a detailed account of every moment, from the day of the wedding till the moment his brother had deposited her on their doorstep. She had then sent word to Willow, who had, to their surprise, arrived that evening.
Now Holly, Willow, and Poppy stood in her bedroom fitting a gown that they had spent all night altering. Years of tedious embroidery and sewing lessons had finally come in handy.
“It is not the keeping still I am afraid of, it’s the moving around.”
“It will be fine,” Willow said.
“We shall find out soon enough. At this rate, I doubt I will be able to manage a step—my lungs will give out,” Holly muttered.
“So take smaller steps,” Willow murmured.
“There is no time to alter the dress further,” Poppy said.
Holly maintained a stiff posture as her sister tugged at the laces at her lower back. This was not the dress she had envisioned for her wedding—it was even better. A soft muslin gown of forest green with gold lace trimmings. It had taken most of the night to embroider tiny leaves into the lining, and the result was a far cry from a “new breed of bird” look, as Brahm had put it.
Her hair had been expertly pinned together, and to complete the look, Poppy had stuck a twig of ivory in her hair. But the corset was much too tight. Holly had always thought the purpose of the garment was to uplift one’s charms in a comfortable manner. Nothing about this bodice was comfortable.
“Can we not forgo the corset?”
Willow’s affronted gaze met hers. “That shall be scandalous, Holly!”
“I don’t care about scandalous, I care about breathing,” Holly pointed out. “And I am sure no one will notice I’m not wearing one.”
Willow sighed. “If you insist,” she said after a moment. “But you shall not forgo your chemise.”
“I would never dream of such a thing,” Holly teased, her hand settling over her heart.
Willow rolled her eyes, but she and Poppy quickly dispensed of the corset.
Holly inhaled deeply as she fought for breath. Ah, that is much better.
“You will look like a goddess of the earth,” Poppy gushed, pinning away a stray curl.
She hoped so. Her nerves were taxed with tension. Though Brahm had declared their betrothal to the entire land, she didn’t know precisely why he had. Did he love her, or did he feel a sense of duty to her? Was he saving her or choosing her? She felt exposed, like a soldier in the line of fire.
Then, to add a layer of complexity, she knew that Brahm must feel rather uncertain himself. He had risked a great deal in declaring that they were betrothed and had no idea how she would respond to such a bold declaration. So an invitation to spend their lives together seemed a fitting way to show Brahm just how much she loved him—to let him know that she would happily marry him even though he hadn’t actually asked her.
Remarkably, it felt as though her entire life had been in preparation to this day. Not her wedding, mind you, but wedding Brahm Tremont. He had not only stolen her heart—because, quite frankly, her heart had been willing enough to pounce on him—but he made her feel like more than the girl everyone else saw as just silly.
“Tell me again. Did Brahm truly threaten St. Ives?” Holly asked her sister. Until the day her hair turned silver, she would not tire of hearing that story.
Willow let out an exasperated breath. “Honestly, Holly, must you exhaust the subject?”
“The man did declare their betrothal to the entire world,” Poppy said with a shrug. “It must have come as quite the shock.”
“To us all,” Willow agreed, pulling away from her. “Are you certain this is what you want? The last time, things did not go as you had hoped.”
“And I,” Poppy piped up, “would rather not be shackled to that big beast.”
“Do not fear, dear sister, I am quite committed to this one.” Holly grinned.
“Do not jest over such things!” Willow admonished. “But declaration or not, that still doesn’t mean you must marry him,” she pointed out.
“I love him, Willow.”
“You loved the last one, too,” Poppy muttered beneath her breath.
They both shot her an aggrieved look.
“He left you, alone, in the country,” Willow argued.
“True, but Jonathan said he looked like a man possessed.”
“That only confirms he has a conscience,” Willow said.
“Is Lord Jonathan on Warton’s side now? Did the marquis not threaten him?” Poppy asked. “And when did you become such good friends?”
“In all likelihood he fears disembowelment more than he does his brother,” Willow suggested.
The girls snickered.
“Or you,” Holly pointed out.
“Did you threaten him as well, Willow?” Poppy chirped. “I do believe you are my new idol.”
Willow blushed. “I did no such thing.”
Holly’s smile turned sly. “Jonathan called you a hellcat.”
“I am no such thing!” Willow exclaimed, her eyes wide.
Holly lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “He said he is going to stick around London for a while. He believes your marriage to his brother will provide endless entertainment.”
“The scoundrel!”
“Just where is your beloved husband?” Poppy asked Willow.
“Oh . . . well, Jonathan helped me to secure him last night.”
Poppy rolled her eyes heavenward at the mention of the duke’s rascal brother. “Am I the only one he did not befriend?”
Holly ignored her and instead asked, “Secured him how?”
Willow looked slightly abashed. “Jonathan supplied him with drink, and I tied him to a chair and locked him in his room. The servants have strict orders to stay clear of that wing.”
Holly’s jaw dropped.
“He has been tied up since last night?” Poppy asked, shocked.
Willow nodded.
“I cannot believe you did that,” Holly murmured. “St. Ives will be furious with you.”
“If he even remembers my part in his imprisonment.”
“Oh, he will,” Poppy said in an ominous tone. “That man does not strike me as one who forgets anything.”
“You should be careful, Willow,” Holly agreed, “not to push him too far. What if he thinks to punish you?”
Willow shook her head. “Ambrose knows better.”
But Holly caught the slight line of worry in her features. St. Ives might not take it out on her, but it would not be a pleasant rant to witness.
“Are you certain?” Holly had to ask.
“Do not worry so. Ambrose and I understand one another. In any case, let us not go on about me; today is about you.”
Holly sighed, letting it go. She trusted Willow. And it was true; today was about her. Although, in some ways, it was not. Every event that had led to this day had started with her accepting a proposal from a duke. So, in part, it wasn’t just her day. It was Willow’s day as well. It was St. Ives’s day. It was Brahm’s day. It was Poppy’s and her father’s day. It marked not only the beginning of her future with a remarkable man but also the end of the events that had unfolded prior to it.
Suddenly nervous, Holly glanced around the room. “Do you think he really wants to marry me?”
“The man declared his intentions publicly. He wants to marry you, all right,” Willow said earnestly.
“After his passionate display at the Eldridge ball, you are all but already married.” Poppy smiled with amusement. “On a further note, who is that delicious-looking man guarding the doors at the front?” Poppy asked.
“Marcus Hunt,” Willow said and eyed her sister with a raised brow. “He is a Bow Street Runner.”
“A damn fine one.”
“Poppy!” Willow admonished.
Holly grinned. “Marcus Hunt has been loitering about all morning. He wishes to ask me some questions, but I haven’t had the time to see to him. Jonathan said he would see to it.”
“Why do I feel every sentence either starts or ends with Jonathan?” Poppy gave an exaggerated sigh.
“He is family,” Willow pointed out.
“Yes, well, I’d much rather talk about the scrumptious Bow Street Runner,” Poppy drawled with dreamy eyes.
“Do keep in mind that it is Holly’s wedding day.”
“Of course,” Poppy murmured. “And I cannot believe I’m attending another one of your weddings.”
Willow covered her mouth with her hand and smothered a laugh.
“This one will be the last, I promise,” Holly muttered, her gaze darting to the door.
“I am thrilled to hear that, although now I shall be left as the only one unwed. How positively uninspiring.”
“You will find someone,” Willow murmured. “Just be patient and leave the Bow Street Runners alone.”
Poppy wrinkled her nose. “Patience has never been one of my virtues. And since all the good bachelors have been snatched up, I suppose I will have to settle for Mr. Hunt.”
“Not all the bachelors have been snatched up,” Holly felt compelled to point out. “There are still a few reformable rakes left untouched.”
“Not anyone worthy of my time.”
“You are so bad,” Willow murmured.
“I do not see how I am bad when all I ask for is a handsome gentleman who will conquer worlds for me.”
“Worlds?” Holly winked at Willow. “And here I thought there was only one.”
“A figure of speech,” Poppy said with a wave of her hand. “So how will we know when your future husband arrives?”
“I suppose when he bursts through the door bellowing my name.”
Willow snickered.
“The man does seem to do things in a loud manner.”
A smile spread across Holly’s lips. He surely did. And the continued silence of him not bellowing out her name was nerve-racking. Her palms were all sweaty, and her heart fluttered in her chest every time a door slammed in the distance. Where was he?
“Oh, no! It’s raining!” Poppy suddenly exclaimed in horror.
Holly whirled around to catch her sister leaning out of the window, looking up at the sky.
“Drat! This won’t do! We must rescue the cake, or all our effort will be for naught!” Poppy exclaimed.
Willow dashed from the room, shouting over her shoulder, “Don’t move, Holly! I shall be back shortly!”
Poppy darted from the room in pursuit, leaving Holly standing alone, staring after them, nonplussed. A little rain was nothing to be concerned about; they could just as easily marry before a cozy fire in the drawing room.
She turned back to study her reflection in the mirror. She felt like a different person from the one who had left London in a mad dash alongside the marquis. Wiser. More at ease with herself.
Her hand lifted to settle on her chest, where her heart beat the strongest. She also felt stronger, braver.
Another door slammed in the distance.
Again, her heart fluttered in her chest.