Miss Delectable (Mischief in Mayfair #1) - Grace Burrowes Page 0,117
French, just so you are certain. Bien sûr, je peux aimer une telle femme. Can you love a man with a foot in each of two cultures that are more often at war than at peace? Who likes the company of impertinent children and aging destriers? Who is likely to be creaky before his time and who comes with a herd of meddlesome in-laws and honorary godmothers?”
“Can I love such a man?” She sank against him, cuddling close. “Orion Goddard, I already do.”
Epilogue
The noise beggared description.
Between the celebration in the kitchen and the wedding breakfast hosted by the Coventry, Ann had to bend close to her new husband to hear him speak. They shared the head of a long table, the detritus of a midday banquet strewn before them.
“Dornings like champagne,” Orion said, “and they love your quiches and custards and fruit and cheese pairings.”
Dornings loved each other, too, if this display of familial loyalty for Sycamore Dorning’s in-law was any indication.
“They appear to be taking quite an interest in your cousins, Orion.” Margaret Dorning, who had an encyclopedic knowledge of herbs, was over by the window in earnest discussion with Alasdhair MacKay, whose family distilled whisky. Willow Dorning was similarly engrossed in conversation with Dylan Powell. A mastiff leaned against Dylan’s leg, the dog looking as if he, too, was engrossed in what Dylan had to say.
Various children scampered about, most of them with food in hand, while Aunt Melisande and Uncle Horace, looking somewhat dazed, were being entertained by Lord and Lady Casriel.
“The Dornings have taken an interest in us,” Orion said, “for Jeanette’s sake, and, Annie, it’s a bit like being in the army before all the gossip started. I am surrounded by goodwill, and I don’t know how to respond. Worth Kettering has agreed to meet with us to discuss investments, and Margaret and Hawthorne want to talk about growing culinary herbs commercially.”
Across the room, Otter was making a pest of himself to Mr. Valerian Dorning, who was showing the boy how to execute a formal court bow for Hannah’s amusement.
“I don’t know anything about growing herbs commercially,” Ann said.
“But you know how they’re used in the kitchen, while Margaret has thus far only advised her husband regarding medicinal properties. These people have become family connections, Annie. If they’d like to chat with us over a glass of claret, I’m happy to oblige.”
Somebody in the kitchen started singing Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus”—several somebodies—and the result was lovely.
“Henry has quite a voice, doesn’t he?” Orion asked.
“He does, as does Nan. Margaret Dorning advises her husband?”
“Hawthorne claims the Dorning botanical venture would be lost without her. Why?”
Ann took Orion’s hand, because it was their wedding breakfast and because she was already in the habit of reaching for him when her courage wanted fortifying.
“You said you feel as if you’re back in the army, before all the intrigue and gossip stole the goodwill of your fellow officers from you. I have no frame of reference for a family where Mrs. Valerian Dorning is the first editor of her husband’s books and Mrs. Margaret Dorning tells her husband which herbs to plant and where to plant them. Jeanette was the first person Sycamore Dorning turned to when the kitchen was in a panic. They aren’t like Melisande and Horace, and I begin to see that much of the world isn’t like Melisande and Horace.”
“The brigadier and his lady are devoted, in their way.”
Were they, or were they devoted to some manual of marriage for senior officers? “They have secrets from one another.”
Orion brought Ann’s hand to his lips. “I will make you a promise, Annie Goddard. When I am flummoxed by this vexatious old world, when I am overjoyed by some unforeseen turn of events, when I have a difficult problem to solve, or a simple pleasure to share, the first person I turn to will be you. I will find you in the kitchen, or the herb garden, or the nursery if we should be so blessed, or wherever you bide, and I will share my hopes, fears, dreams, and delights with you.”
Those words settled around Ann’s heart with a warmth and rightness the old church vows had not.
“And I promise you, Colonel Sir Orion Goddard, that when I am frustrated, or puzzled, or rejoicing, or pleased, I will turn first to you, no matter if you are in your office, the warehouse, the stables, or our bedroom. Kiss me.”
“Your obedient servant, Mrs. Goddard.” He kissed her on the cheek,