Nearby, the Loring sisters were engaged in an emotional embrace of their own, their tears and smiles a clear indication of their fondness for one another.
Shortly, however, the vicar intervened and urged the newly wedded couple to the rear of the church to sign the documents officially making them man and wife.
Meanwhile, the guests spilled out of the front entrance, most heading for their carriages. The company would repair immediately to Danvers Hall for the wedding breakfast-although breakfast was a misnomer, since the festivities would last all afternoon and evening, culminating with a grand ball.
Marcus had warned that the guest list would be huge, for he wanted much of the ton to take part, to pave the way for his bride to be received in the highest circles. Marrying an earl would go a long way toward restoring Arabella’s tainted reputation, and by association, her sisters’, but Marcus was set on having her fully accepted as his countess.
Drew was not looking forward to the wedding celebrations any more than the wedding. Heath had escorted Eleanor and her aunt, Lady Beldon, to the church and would return them to London this evening once the ball ended, but Drew had brought his own carriage so he could leave early if he wished to.
Yet now he had to deal with Miss Roslyn Loring.
He glanced over the crowd as he descended the front steps, searching for Roslyn. He wanted to get her alone for a private word, but it didn’t appear as if that would happen anytime soon, since she stood with Arabella, who was surrounded by well-wishers, including their once-estranged mother.
After fleeing to the Continent, the scandalous Lady Loring had eventually married her French lover and was now simply Mrs. Henri Vachel. Rather admirably, Marcus had recently arranged for the sisters to be reunited with their mother, and for the moment at least, her disgrace was apparently forgiven.
While Arabella spoke to her, Roslyn was engaged in animated conversation with Fanny Irwin, as well as a fellow teacher at the academy, Miss Blanchard, and the academy’s matronly patroness, Lady Freemantle.
Standing beside Roslyn also was a dark-haired gentleman whom Drew recognized as the Earl of Haviland. When he saw her laughing up at Haviland, Drew’s eyes narrowed.
Eleanor joined him just then and saw where his gaze was fixed. “Are you acquainted with Lord Haviland?” Eleanor asked.
“We have met briefly at various clubs.”
“I should like to meet him. He is said to be a very intriguing man. Supposedly he was a brilliant spy for Wellington and was repudiated by his family for such ungentlemanly behavior. But he was compelled to return home last year when he inherited the title. His country villa is adjacent to Danvers Hall.”
Which explained why Roslyn was on such good terms with him, Drew thought. They were neighbors.
Or perhaps more than neighbors, if her laughing demeanor was any indication.
At the sight of her gazing up so admiringly at Haviland, Drew felt an odd little kick to his stomach. Yet he promptly dismissed the sensation.
He was merely feeling impatience, nothing more. He wanted this interminable day over with. And before it ended, he wanted to question Roslyn Loring about why she had attended an infamous Cyprians’ ball without her guardian’s knowledge or approval.
To Roslyn’s relief, the wedding breakfast and ball proved a splendid success. She was chiefly responsible for overseeing the lavish celebrations, a daunting challenge for the sheer size alone. An army of servants had prepared frantically for days, ensuring that Danvers Hall sparkled and the grounds gleamed.
The enormous throng of guests appeared to be enjoying themselves, if their laughter and gaiety was any indication. The crowds had spent the afternoon feasting at banquet tables beneath colorful tents, playing various games on the lawns, boating on the River Thames behind the manor, and strolling in the terraced gardens.
In the past half hour, the merry company had removed indoors to the ballroom and parlors to partake of dancing and cards. Roslyn had watched with delight as Marcus led out Arabella for the opening quadrille, but when the orchestra struck up the first waltz, she settled gratefully in a chair in the far corner of the ballroom. After the frenetic activity of the past few weeks, she was glad for the respite.
She was gladder still to have avoided the Duke of Arden thus far. Thankfully, her hostess duties had kept her occupied and afforded them no opportunity for private conversation. She didn’t want to be alone with Arden so he could grill her about her attendance at the Cyprians’ ball a fortnight ago.
She’d felt his eyes fastened upon her more than once during the course of the afternoon. Those vibrant green eyes were cool and critical, and Roslyn had done her best to ignore him. Yet he clearly comprehended her tactics. Moments ago when he’d spied her across the ballroom floor, he had offered her a smile filled with lazy charm, but his keen gaze promised an eventual accounting.
Roslyn was remembering that unnerving look when Fanny settled beside her. “You appear spent, my dear.”
Roslyn smiled. “I am indeed a little weary, but any discomfort I feel is utterly worthwhile. I have never seen Arabella so happy.”
“I know.” Fanny gazed wistfully toward the ballroom floor where Arabella was waltzing with her new husband. “I’m thankful that you and your sisters allowed me to take part in the celebrations.”
“You didn’t expect anything less, did you?”
“No.” A trill of Fanny’s musical laughter followed. “You all place such high value on loyalty and friendship that you are willing to flout society for my sake. But I only hope your defiance doesn’t prove too detrimental to your own matrimonial prospects.”
Roslyn shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t want any husband who cannot value loyalty and friendship as I do. And Lily doesn’t wish to wed at all, so the issue of your jeopardizing our matrimonial prospects is immaterial.”
The two women
shared a moment of amiable accord before Fanny spoke again. “You aren’t dancing?”