“I second that.” Lord Stone’s smile was just as warm. “I’m hoping we’ll all be great friends.”
“Yes, please call me Caro. I’m sure this reprobate won’t mind if you call him Silas.” The glance Caro bestowed upon her husband was alight with humor. After a dozen years of marriage, the Stones were so obviously in love. The contentment of a life well lived oozed from them like honey from a comb.
Good for them, Jane thought with uncharacteristic bitterness, although she maintained her polite smile. She badly wanted to make a good first impression. “And you must call me Jane.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hugh’s shoulders relax. For all his pretense of ease with this meeting, he, too, was aware that past history could make it all go terribly wrong.
“Congratulations again, Garson old chum,” Silas said. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”
Hugh released Jane and shook Silas’s hand. Jane couldn’t mistake the affection between them. Jane told herself it was her wedding day, and it would be too pathetic to feel like an outsider.
“Thanks, old man. I’m a lucky dog.” He almost sounded like he meant it.
Silas glanced at the people hovering to speak to the bride and groom, and his lips turned down in a wry smile. “We won’t monopolize you both here, but when you come to London, I hope you’ll be a regular visitor, Jane. Caro can’t wait to introduce you to her friends. They’ll take you about and make sure you find your feet in society.”
“How very kind.” To Jane’s surprise, her response was more sincere than just good manners.
Caro leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Courage, Jane. Hugh’s worth the effort,” she whispered before she drew away.
Jane started, wondering whether she’d heard right. That sounded like Caro might be on her side, which was the last thing she’d expected before she met the Nashes. She’d assumed any connections of Garson’s lost love would resent her stepping into Morwenna’s shoes.
“Th-thank you,” she stammered, poise deserting her for an instant until she frantically clawed it back.
Caro’s smile was genuinely warm, and she squeezed Jane’s hand. “We’ll see you in Town.”
As Caro kissed Hugh’s cheek—did she offer him advice, too?—Silas took Jane’s hand and bowed over it. “Jane, it’s been a pleasure. May you and this rapscallion enjoy many blissful years together.”
“Thank you, Silas,” she said, still reeling at the welcome she’d received from Hugh’s friends. Perhaps she was borrowing trouble, and London wasn’t going to be quite the nightmare she envisioned.
The rest of the wedding breakfast passed in a whirl of good wishes from family and neighbors. As her father’s health worsened, she’d largely withdrawn from local society, so she was taken aback at how heartfelt the congratulations were. Saying goodbye to so many familiar faces was difficult. She’d grown up among these people, and she was sorry to leave them.
*
By the time Jane went upstairs to change into her traveling clothes, she’d almost convinced herself that she might glean a measure of happiness from this match. Meeting the Nashes hadn’t been near the ordeal she’d anticipated, and the guests all acted as if she and Hugh embarked on a golden future. Hugh had hardly left her side and hadn’t betrayed a moment’s dissatisfaction with his choice of bride.
In her pretty pink gown, Susan bustled in front of her. Her sister was always in a rush, which meant she reached her destination ahead of time. But it also meant that she relied on other people to pick up the pieces she left behind.
Jane entered the bedroom she’d slept in all her life. Packed up and ready for Felix’s sister, it felt strangely unfamiliar. Her stomach lurched with a return of her nerves. Cavell Court was where she’d always belonged, but no longer. Would she ever feel like she belonged with Hugh?
Susan had already fluttered forward to smooth t
he lavender traveling gown Jane’s maid Molly had laid out on the bed. That was another sad parting. Molly wasn’t coming to Derbyshire with Jane. Instead, she stayed behind to marry John, the estate’s head groom.
Characteristic impatience filled Susan’s face. “Stop looking like a wet hen, Janie, and come over here so I can unlace your dress.”
Jane hated the description almost as much as she hated the childish nickname. Still, she made herself smile, although Susan didn’t sound like she was joking. “You can’t say that to a bride.”
“Nevertheless it’s true. You should be in alt. Hugh is way above your touch, my girl. Rich. Handsome. Influential.”
“And nice,” Jane said, disliking the direction of Susan’s remarks.
Susan shrugged, clearly unconcerned with Garson’s personal qualities. “For a woman at her last prayers, you’ve done yourself proud. Don’t mess it up.”
Annoyed, Jane marched across and presented her back to her sister. At least temper chased away her collywobbles. “You make it sound like he’s made a very poor bargain indeed.”
“He could have picked anyone. Never forget how lucky you are. Remember you were looking forward to years of making do in the back of beyond.” Susan’s voice took on an unattractive hectoring tone, as she tugged at Jane’s laces. “I always thought that was a mad plan, when Frederick and I offered you a home. You’re so good with the children, after all.”
Ugh. Never in this lifetime. “So I should spend the rest of my days showering my husband in gratitude?” she asked with a touch of acid.