Meant To Be (Pendleton Manor 1)

But that wasn’t going to happen, and though she understood why, Sophy had been disappointed. So was he, but that didn’t stop him from feeling light hearted. As if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Harry wanted his ring safely on Sophy’s finger and then he would tackle the problem of Sir Arbuthnot. As for Pendleton … Harry would make his choice known if and when the time came, but

he didn’t want to think about it now. He wanted to be happy, and surely after everything he deserved that?

Sophy was his and he loved her. He had always loved her. He would always love her. Nothing else mattered and if it took him the rest of his life he would teach her how much she meant to him.

Adam was downstairs reading the newspaper. He looked up at Harry and winced. “Well, at least you don’t look quite as bad as last night. How’s your brain? Still functioning? You do remember you are marrying Sophy, don’t you?”

“My brain is functioning perfectly,” Harry responded, sitting down and looking at the coffee pot. He poured himself one, adding cream and sugar, and took a sip.

“A note was delivered from Sir Geoffrey Bell to say he has the special licence and the arrangements have been made. The wedding is at eleven.”

He winced. The inside of his cheek must be cut because it stung, but he soldiered on, taking another sip, until the beverage began to do its work.

“What time is it?” he asked, suddenly looking past Adam at the window. Outside it was grey and he had assumed it was early, but now he noticed it had been raining and that might account for the dull day.

“Nearly ten,” Adam responded.

Harry lurched to his feet. “Ten!” he shouted. “You said I am getting married at eleven!”

Adam threw his paper aside. “Plenty of time.”

“What if James persuades her to run off with him instead?”

Adam chuckled. “She won’t. Your future wife is remarkably loyal to you, brother, although I’m not sure you deserve her.” There was a silence and Harry could feel his brother’s considering gaze. “When Father hears he will be livid. I know you said last night that you didn’t care, but Harry …”

“I’ll deal with Father when the time comes.”

Adam continued to stare for a moment and then stood up. “Go and put on your wedding clothes then,” he said sternly, as if he were talking to a soldier in the ranks. “I know you can’t do much about your face, but at least make an attempt at respectability.”

Harry laughed. “We seem to have changed roles,” he said.

“A temporary arrangement,” Adam assured him.

Harry paused at the door. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

“Neither do I. Now go on, your bride awaits.”

Chapter 30

SOPHY

St Anne’s in Lambeth was not a pretty church, certainly not as pretty as the church in the village near Pendleton. And it was raining, a soft constant drizzle that threatened to send her already difficult hair into a mass of rebellious curls. Her grandmother had decided she should wear the white silk gown with the blue velvet bodice, the same dress she had worn when she first saw Harry again at Albury House. It had been torn in the garden, but Grandma had mended it with fine, invisible stitches.

Sir Geoffrey insisted on drinking a toast to her before they left, and by the time they reached the church it was shortly after eleven. “Brides are allowed to be late,” he said, though it did little to lessen the butterflies in her stomach.

Breathlessly, Sophie stepped through the door. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the poor light. There was a candelabra that barely pierced the gloom, and she could see two men standing, waiting at the front. Her heart gave a jolt as they turned and she saw Harry smiling at her.

She would have run up the aisle and into his arms, but her grandmother held her arm firmly. “We are walking sedately,” she insisted. “You will want to look back on this day knowing you did things correctly, even if they were more than a little unorthodox.”

Sir Geoffrey chuckled and took Sophy’s other arm, and the three of them together made their way towards the two Baillieu men.

Harry reached out and took her hand in his, their fingers tangling together. She barely noticed the reverend waiting patiently to begin, or Adam giving her a grin and a wink.

“This is most irregular, but Sir Geoffrey assures me it is what all parties want,” the minister said, clearing his throat. “Shall we begin?”

The vows didn’t take long and Harry held her hand throughout. He answered the reverend in a confident voice, and she stumbled only once. When they were done, he leaned in and kissed her more thoroughly than the reverend probably approved of, judging by the increased amount of throat clearing.