“That’s a bit earlier than I thought it would be. No wonder ye didn’t want us to pipe ye to church.”
The ladies rose and left the gentlemen to whichever libation they chose to imbibe. After his second glass of very fine whisky, Giff signaled to Charlie Stanwood, at whose house Giff would be spending the night. If he’d have tried to slip away on his own, he’d have been brought back. Since Mamma would not allow a chamber pot in the dining room, they made their excuses under the guise of needing to relieve themselves and left the house.
“Was it my imagination, or was one of your aunts trying to matchmake me to a lady?” Stanwood asked.
“They’re all prodigious matchmakers. Fortunately, you’re too far away for much to come of their plans. However, you might not want to set foot in Scotland until you’re safely wed.”
They turned the corner on to Mount Street. “There doesn’t seem to be much love lost between your father and grandfather.”
There wasn’t. He never actually understood how Grandpa had been convinced to allow his mother to wed his father. “They do seem to spend a great deal of time aggravating each other.” They strolled silently for a while before turning into Berkeley Square. “Why didn’t Phinn and Augusta join us?”
“Augusta would not have enjoyed herself and, consequently, would have begun speaking to people in a language no one understood.”
Giff liked Augusta a great deal, but there was no doubting that she sometimes had strange ways. “But she can speak the Gaelic. She could voice her objections.”
“She doesn’t like arguing as much as your family does. And if she had heard anyone say anything critical about Alice or your marriage, she would have given them a piece of her mind in Gaelic.”
Back to his father and grandfather again. Between the two of them the meal had been rather loud. “Perhaps she can meet them when my father’s not around.”
“I hope so. I’m quite sure she would like your aunts and come of your cousins.”
* * *
The next morning Alice woke and smiled at the sun shining into the room- from the window. It was her wedding day. Her hair had been washed yesterday before they went to dinner. The most time-consuming thing she had to do was bathe and dress. She threw her legs over the bed, shoved her feet into the slippers, and padded to the basin. Bertram entered carrying a day dress. Alice would have to change into her wedding gown directly after breakfast.
She missed having Giff to join her at the breakfast table, but there was a tradition in her family that the groom could not see the bride before the wedding. After she broke her fast, Alice dressed in a Pomona green gown with an embroidered net overdress. Her hair was put up with the pearl tipped pins Giff had convinced her to buy before he’d given her the necklace and earrings. The only thing left to don was the small hat she would wear when a knock came on the door. This was also tradition, but a much better one than not being able to see her future husband. Elizabeth entered, first followed by Madeline, Eleanor, Grace, and Joan, one of Giff’s aunts.
Elizabeth handed Alice a handkerchief embroidered with forget-me-nots. It was not nearly as lumpy as the last one she did. “I am getting much better.”
Alice kissed her niece’s cheek. “You are a sweetheart. This is beautiful.”
Eleanor gave her the combs she had loaned to Madeline as something borrowed. “Do not forget to give them back. Although, we will be together for the next month or more.”
“We will. But you may have them directly after the wedding breakfast.”
Madeline carefully hugged Alice so as not to muss her. “I am so very happy for you. I have a new pearl bracelet for you.”
She clasped it on Alice’s wrist. “Thank you. It is just what I needed today.”
Joan glanced at Grace before going to Alice. “It is a tradition in Scotland for a mother to give the eldest daughter a Luckenbooth Brooch. I was the only one blessed with all sons and no daughters. At least, they keep telling me I’m lucky. I’m no so sure about that. When I saw you, I knew this would be perfect.” She held out her hand. As her fingers uncurled, they revealed a gold brooch in the shape of two hearts intertwined. In the middle was a sapphire. “It’s been passed down from mother to daughter for well over two hundred years. I want you to have it to wear and give to your oldest daughter on her wedding day.”
Tears sprung to Alices eyes. “Thank you so much. I will cherish this always.”
“Aunt Alice, use the handkerchief.” Elizabeth tugged on Alice’s skirt.
“Yes, of course.” She dabbed her eyes.
Matt came to the door. “It’s time to go. I do not want to give your future grandfather-in-law an excuse to pipe his part of the family from the church to here.”
Joan laughed. “He’d do it too.” She glanced at Alice. “He’s really a sweet man. There’s just something about Mairead’s husband that sets him off.”
Alice had noticed that the two of them could not seem to be in the same room together without coming to loggerheads. “I look forward to coming to know him when the duke is not around.”
Matt held out his arm to Alice. “Come along. Your groom is going to think you’re late no matter when you arrive, so you, of all people, should be on time.”
Matt escorted her up the stairs to the front door and they paused. Theo took her place as the maid of honor, and they started down the aisle. Giff had never looked more handsome. He wore a blue jacket and breeches. His waistcoat was embroidered in gold. A plaid sash was across his chest, and the sapphire she had given him was in his intricately tied cravat. He caught her eye, and she could not look away. Thankfully, Matt was guiding her. Charlie joined them halfway to the altar. Like Eleanor, she wanted to honor both the man who had raised her and her brother, the head of her house. John Montagu stood next to Giff as his best man.
The vicar stepped forward. “I hear this is the last wedding I will perform for you for a few years. Let us begin. Dearly beloved . . .”
Alice was not surprised at the depth of feeling with which Giff said his vows. Nor the strength of her voice when she answered.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
“Kiss her now, lad.” Ooof,” one of the male cousins said.
“Not in England ye great buffoon,” another admonished.
Giff took her arm. “Let’s sign the register and get out of here before there’s a fight about Scots and English customs.”
They signed quickly and headed up the aisle to the waiting coach at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped and stared at the carriage. “Boots?”
“My cousins. They must have found the coach.” Giff cringed.
“Remind me to ask your mother what they were like at her wedding.”
“She got married in Scotland. But it’s a grand story.”
He helped her into the coach and just looked at her. “We are really married.”
