Gradually, the reality of being on such hallowed ground as Osterly Park sank in and eased the tension that had become second nature whenever he and Melissa were in public. Having no idea of the attacker’s motives, or of how the villain might think, had left him prey to an unyielding protectiveness he understood, but had underestimated. However, no attacker, no matter how well-connected, was going to attempt anything while surrounded on all sides by the elite of the ton. Being able to relax his vigilance, at least for a few hours, was a welcome relief.
At Lady Jersey’s direction, with the other guests, he and Melissa started along the wending path toward the bluebell dell where the picnic was to be held. On noting that they were temporarily out of ready earshot of others, he murmured, “Did I tell you that the order to provide me, Felix, and Damian with attire for the wedding has turned my tailor into a nervous wreck?”
She laughed. “No. How?”
He told her of his last fitting and how the normally mild and even-tempered man had nearly broken down. “Not over me, although he wasn’t happy about the material I chose for our waistcoats—he wanted something flashier—but Damian had him literally pulling out what little hair he still has. Apparently, my little brother’s shoulders have somehow grown a full inch since his previous fitting. For a while there, Felix and I thought Saxby would have an apoplexy. Luckily, we managed to soothe his ruffled feathers, and he ended promising to have the coat and waistcoat remade and ready in time.”
She glanced suspiciously his way. “I’m surprised that a twenty-four-year-old would have such a growth spurt over such a short time.”
He snorted. “More like Damian, who hates standing still, wriggled while being measured.” They strolled on, and he glanced at her. “So, what’s your most excruciating experience in this circus of wedding preparations?”
“Ah—that would undoubtedly be when Mandy came up for the fitting for her matron-of-honor gown on Monday.”
Three weeks previously, Mandy had been brought to bed of a healthy baby girl. By all accounts, mother and daughter were faring well, and Rufus was utterly besotted with his offspring.
Briefly, Melissa glanced at Julian. “You know how determined Mandy has been to be my matron of honor. She persuaded—or possibly badgered and verbally bludgeoned—Rufus into bringing her and little Charlene up to town, just for the fitting. Mama, of course, was delighted to have a chance to hold her first grandchild, so she remained at North House with Charlene and Rufus while Mandy and I went to see the modiste.
“Well, Madame Henriette had assured us she could work with the measurements for Mandy that she already had—she’s been our modiste for years. She was adamant that she knew exactly how to adjust the measurements to accommodate a lady only just out of her confinement.”
She paused, and he prompted, “I sense a ‘but’…”
Lips setting a touch grimly, she nodded. “The gown was a disaster. I had Mandy wailing, and Madame in tears, and the poor assistants didn’t know what to do. They cowered in the workshop and wouldn’t come out. In the end, I had to lightly slap Mandy to get her to stop wailing and pay attention, and I had to speak very sternly to Madame.”
She shook her head. “Both were so fixated on the gown and expecting it to be perfect, they’d entirely forgotten that there were a full three weeks before the wedding—before the gown absolutely has to be done.” Exasperated, she waved. “And Mandy was right there! I had to stand over the lot of them and get Madame and her assistants to do a completely new set of measurements. And I got Mandy to promise to come up to town again in a week or so for a final fitting.”
She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “In order to get everyone to behave, I might have threatened to elope.”
He laughed aloud. “I must remember that. In our current circumstances, it’s the perfect threat.”
She grinned and nodded. “I certainly found it effective.”
Still chuckling, he caught her hand and lightly squeezed.
After a moment, he raised the hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. Lowering his arm, he stated, “It appears that, thus far, we’ve weathered all the ton, in its many and varied guises, has thrown at us.”
She nodded. “We have, and we’ve just over three weeks to go.”
He mock groaned, then dipped his head close to whisper, “About that threat of yours…?”
It was her turn to laugh.
Smiling, relaxed and happy, he swung her hand as they continued down the path.
Lady Jersey’s notion of a picnic was to have her guests lounge in groups on rugs spread on the grassy area that overlooked the park’s famous bluebell dell and sip champagne while consuming delicacies displayed on silver platters and served by a small army of footmen.
The champagne was cool, the various comestibles beyond delicious, and once everyone was seated, the company Julian and Melissa found themselves in proved surprisingly comfortable. The two other couples Lady Jersey directed their way were acquaintances of similar station and, like them, engaged to be wed. After establishing their respective wedding dates—Julian and Melissa’s wedding would be the first to occur—the six of them agreed to avoid all talk of weddings, engagement balls, and such and, instead, entertained themselves with more lighthearted banter, much as they would have had they not been engaged.
That was another sort of relief.
Like any good hostess, Lady Jersey wandered between the rugs, checking that her guests had everything they needed. When she passed nearby, Julian caught her eye and raised his glass to her in appreciation. Her ladyship smiled, nodded, and glided on.
Far more relaxed than he’d expected to be, he snagged a bunch of grapes from the platter of a passing footman. He popped one in his mouth, then noticed Melissa eyeing the bunch. He pulled another grape from the stalk and held it out, offering it to her.
She caught his eye, then instead of reaching for it with her fingers, she leaned nearer and plucked the grape from his fingers with her lips.
His breath seized; his libido came alive. Desperate for immediate distraction, he plucked another grape, tossed it up, and caught it in his mouth.
She laughed, and he plucked another and arched a brow at her.
