Barely a Bride (Free Fellows League 1)

“Of course, he knows better. But that didn’t stop him from asking me.”

“You refused, of course.”

Alyssa shook her head. “I accepted.”

“No matter,” her mother declared. “You’re a female. You cannot marry without your father’s permission. And your father will not grant Lord Abernathy permission to marry you. I’ve chosen Sussex for you. Your father understands the benefits of allying our family with His Grace’s. He won’t disappoint me.”

Alyssa looked her mother in the eye. “I would like to think that for once Papa wouldn’t disappoint me. “

“I wouldn’t count on it, my dear.”

“Then I’ll count on Lord Abernathy. He’ll find a way to keep his promise.”

Chapter Eleven

“I have made a formidable enemy in my future mother-in-law. She wanted Sussex for her daughter. As a viscount, I will never measure up.”

—Griffin, Viscount Abernathy, journal entry, 26 April 1810

Griff sat silently as the two solicitors, his and Lord Tressingham’s—hammered out the terms of the marriage contract and the marriage settlement. He listened as the two men argued each point of the contract, negotiating compromises, until both parties reached a satisfactory conclusion. Changes in the terms of the contract were noted, and after two hours of haggling, the solicitors pronounced the documents ready to be signed.

Griff heaved a sigh of relief as he watched Tressingham scribble his name at the bottom of the document. Griff added his signature to the parchment, signing it with a flourish.

“Well done, my boy!” Tressingham slapped him on the back. “Well done.”

Griff opened his mouth to speak, to ask for a few moments alone with Alyssa, but Tressingham was quicker. He walked over to the side table and poured two glasses of brandy. He handed one to Griff and lifted the other in a toast. “Here’s to our long and mutually satisfying alliance!”

Griff frowned. Good grief! Tressingham made it sound as if Griff had just become engaged to marry him, rather than Alyssa.

“Drink up, my boy!” Tressingham urged, his jovial generosity returning now that legalities were over. “Did you bring the betrothal ring?”

Griff swallowed a mouthful of brandy and nodded.

“Good.” Tressingham walked over to the bell and pulled it.

The butler appeared almost immediately, and Griff decided that he must have been waiting outside the library door. “Tell Lady Tressingham and the gel that I wish to speak to them.”

“At once, sir.”

“And tell them to make it on the quick,” Tressingham added.

Griff waited until the butler exited the room to speak. “I requested a few moments alone with Lady Alyssa,” he reminded his future father-in-law. “I should like to present her with her betrothal ring in private.”

“Plenty of time for privacy after all the preliminaries have been taken care of.” Tressingham turned to Griffin, rubbed his palms together in anticipation, and said. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Griff asked.

“The ring, boy. The ring.” He grinned. “I hear the Abernathy family has a magnificent betrothal ring with a big yellow diamond.”

Griff nearly groaned. He should have realized Tressingham would have heard of and expected to see Great-grandmother Abernathy’s ugly canary diamond betrothal ring. He looked at Tressingham steadily. “I’ve selected another, more suitable ring for Lady Alyssa.”

Tressingham winked. “Big diamond still at the jewelers, eh? Well, it happens to the best of us. But it’s damned decent and smart of you to remember to bring another more suitable ring for the gel. Still, it isn’t every day that two great families, such as ours, become allies. Not every day that a gel like Alyssa—” He broke off as Needham opened the door.

“Lady Tressingham and Lady Alyssa, my lords,” Needham announced, stepping back to allow the ladies to precede him.

“Do something with your hair,” Lady Tressingham whispered to Alyssa. “And for goodness’ sakes, smile. You’re about to become a duchess.”

As far as Alyssa was concerned, becoming a duchess was nothing to smile about. But she reached up and touched her hair and discovered that a mass of baby-fine curls had escaped from their pins while she labored over the boiling pot of rosewater. She smoothed the tendrils into place as best she could and rubbed her damp palms down the front of her dress. She stared down at her toes and took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever lay ahead.