“These are beautiful, Lord Galbraith. I couldn’t wish for anything nicer,” Lily assured him. “My wedding dress is cream satin and lace, and these pearls will be perfect. And they will mean so much more to me because they’re . . . they’re family pearls. And they come”—she hesitated a little before saying it—“with love.”
“They do indeed. Thank you, my dear. You’ve made an old man very happy.” His gray-green eyes, so like his grandson’s, were bright with unshed tears. “Be patient with that young man of mine, won’t you? And if he doesn’t treat you right, then you just come to me. I’ll soon sort him out.” They both laughed, though it was a little forced.
“Now then, it’s a glorious day—how about we stop off at Gunters for an ice? It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to treat a pretty girl. I hope you’re as fond of ices as I am.”
An ice, Lily agreed, would be perfect. On impulse she slipped her arm through Lord Galbraith’s. “I’m so glad we’ve been able to talk like this before the wedding, Lord Galbraith.”
“So am I, my dear, so am I. And perhaps one day you could call me Grandpapa.”
After a delicious brown-bread ice followed by a cup of tea, Lord Galbraith took her home. The next time she saw him would be at her wedding.
Lily found Aunt Dottie waiting for her when she got in. “Did you have a nice outing, my dear?”
“Yes, lovely. Lord Galbraith was very kind. Did you want something, Aunt Dottie?”
“Just a quick word with you about tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course, Aunt Dottie. Shall we go into the sitting room?” Lily resigned herself to yet another long list of advice-for-a-new-bride. It was ironic, as Aunt Dottie had never been married.
“Oh, heavens no, it won’t take that long. Weddings get so busy, I was worried I wouldn’t have time to talk to you in private, and what I have to say is so important, I wanted to have your full attention.”
Lily smiled. Aunt Dottie was such a sweetheart. “You have it now.”
The plump little snowy-haired woman took Lily’s hands in hers. “It’s just this: I know everyone’s been telling you what to think and what to do. All I want you to do is to trust your own instincts, my love. Don’t let anyone tell you what you feel. Listen only to your heart.” She gazed earnestly up at Lily. “And remember this—love is never wrong. Never. Will you promise to remember?”
“I will, dearest Aunt Dottie.” Lily hugged her aunt and kissed her on the cheek. “My very favorite aunt.” Aunt Dottie had taken the place of a mother after Mama had died and Rose and Lily had been sent away to school.
Aunt Dottie chuckled. “Not a great deal of competition, is there? Aggie’s got bossier and more critical than ever. But I don’t let her worry me, and you shouldn’t, either. She means well, I’m sure.”
Chapter Fourteen
Know your own happiness. Want for nothing but patience—or give it a more fascinating name: Call it hope.
—JANE AUSTEN, SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
The night before her wedding, Lily slept barely a wink. The echoes of all the advice she’d been given circled in her mind: It may be a little uncomfortable at first . . . never contradict your husband . . . a feeling of bliss . . . skip breakfast entirely . . . take your happiness where you find it . . . with practice it would get better . . . nothing bores a husband quicker than an overly dependent wife . . . bliss . . .
It seemed as though she’d only just fallen asleep when George was there, pulling back the curtains, saying, “Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to be up.”
“Go away, George. It’s my wedding day. I’m sleeping in.”
“No, you’re not,” George said briskly. “If you lie here thinking about what is to come, you’ll just wait and worry—I know you! So get up. We’re going to the park.”
“I don’t want to ride out. Besides, it looks wet.” The sky outside was leaden with the promise of rain.
“A tiny hint of drizzle won’t hurt you. Now, come on, you need to get your blood moving so you’ll be a fresh and glowing bride.” George reached for the bedcovers and ruthlessly pulled them back.
There was no resisting George in this mood, and besides she was right. There really wasn’t a lot for Lily to do to get ready for her wedding. A bath, do her hair, and get dressed. Everything else was in other hands.
Lily rose, put on her habit, and hurried downstairs to where Kirk, their Scottish groom, was waiting with the horses. He tossed each of them into their saddles, and they rode off.
It was cold and the rain came down in fitful spatters, but Lily was glad in the end that she’d come riding. It would be the last morning the three of them would ride out together as unmarried girls. They reached Hyde Park and found it virtually deserted because of the miserable weather, so George immediately took advantage of the lack of witnesses to urge them into a race.
She won it, of course, by a half length, but by the time they’d circled the park and reached the designated end-of-race tree they were breathless and laughing. “Aren’t you glad you came now?” George said.
Lily’s blood was singing in her veins. She felt marvelous.
“Oh, no! We’ve got to get out of here.” Rose was looking over Lily’s shoulder. “No, don’t look,” she exclaimed as Lily started to turn. “It’s Galbraith and his grandfather—I said don’t look! It’s bad luck
