“I understand,” Lady McElreath said. “And I wish you much happiness on your wedding day and every day, Colin and Gillian.”
“Thank you, Lady McElreath,” Gillian replied.
“Yes, thank you, Maman.” Placing a hand at the small of Gillian’s back, Colin steered her away from his parents and over to their table.
“A pleasure meeting you,” Gillian called over her shoulder.
“That went rather well, don’t you think?” Colin said as they reached the relative quiet of their table.
Gillian surprised him by giggling at his dry attempt at levity. “Your father disliked me on sight. Your mother is reserving her judgment as to what sort of wife I’ll be. My betrothal ring sparked an argument with your father but made a good impression on your sisters—so I think, on the whole, it did go rather well.” She paused. “Better than I expected.”
“I find it hard to believe that your expectations are so low,” Colin said. “Tell me, Lady Grantham, is that generally the case? Or did you make an exception for the meeting with my parents?”
Gillian laughed once again. “I made an exception for your parents.”
“Really?” Colin arched an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “And why did you believe that was necessary?”
“I assumed that your parents, like most parents, wanted only the best for their son and heir.” She looked up at Colin. “And that they would naturally be disappointed to learn he had settled for less.”
Colin frowned. “My parents believe I married for reasons of infatuation, if not for love.”
“How?” Gillian began. “We only met two days past.”
“Infatuation only takes a moment’s glance,” Colin said. “But I told my mother I met you weeks ago while you were visiting relatives in the border country.”
“But your father...”
Colin seemed to read her mind. “My father’s behavior had very little to do with you or with our wedding. He was rude because he’s ashamed.”
“For appearing foxed at our wedding?” Gillian asked.
“For having to appear anywhere when he’s not at his best.” Colin sighed. “And he must save his best for the gaming hells, because we’ve not seen it since Gregory was born.”
“Gregory?”
“My youngest brother.”
She looked up at Colin. “How many brothers have you?”
“Two.” Colin told her. “Malcolm and Gregory. There are five McElreath children. Three males and two females, of which I am the eldest.”
“Why didn’t I meet your brothers?” Gillian asked. “Didn’t they come?”
“Oh, the young hellions are here somewhere,” Colin warned. “I saw them swarming around Griff earlier. But...” He glanced over at the floor-to-ceiling windows where Griff and Alyssa stood.
“Are you as rich as Papa says?” a small voice demanded.
“Speak of the devil.” Colin looked down to find his youngest brother, eight-year-old Gregory, tugging on the end of Gillian’s veil. “Rudeness must run in
the family today,” Colin said by way of explanation. “Lady Grantham, may I present my youngest brother, Master Gregory McElreath?”
“Gregory.” Gillian held out her hand.
“Gregory, it’s customary to bow in the presence of a lady, and this lady is your sister-in-law, Gillian, Lady Grantham.”
Gregory bowed. “Well? Is it true? Are you?” he asked again, returning to the subject he found most intriguing.
“I don’t know,” Gillian answered. “How rich does your papa think I am?”