The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (Cynster #20) - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,73

at the middle of one long side of the massive table in the formal dining room of St. Ives House and, buoyed on a wave of exuberant happiness, surrounded by her family and his, listened as her father, from his place closer to the head of the table, proposed a toast to “the baby of our family in her generation, and the gentleman she will wed.”

With smiles, supportive cheers, and much tinkling of glasses and thumping of the table, everyone raised their glasses high and called in unison, “To Mary and Ryder!” then enthusiastically drank to their health.

Mary couldn’t stop beaming; she was finally here, perhaps not, in the circumstances, at the very end of her quest, but well and truly on her way. This, in effect, was the point of no return; she was now committed beyond recall, and had her ultimate goal front and center in her sights.

She could barely contain her impatience to get on—to press ahead, to take the next step, whatever that might be, toward bringing Ryder, metaphorically speaking, to his knees.

As the noise subsided and everyone returned to their conversations, he caught her eye. “Happy?”

They’d conversed enough over recent days for her to know he meant the question literally and specifically; she reined in her enthusiasm enough to actually consider, then, meeting his gaze, nodded. “I can’t think of any part of the evening thus far that might have gone better.”

He smiled, not his lazy-lion smile but an expression several degrees more personal, and for a moment amid the madness there was just the two of them—a second of privacy within the swirling chaos.

Then Luc, Amelia’s husband, seated a few places to Ryder’s right, called to him and he turned to respond, and Marcus, Mary’s cousin Richard’s son, seated to her left, posed a question, and she turned to answer.

Nearly seventeen, Marcus, dark-haired and blue-eyed like his father, together with his twin, Lucilla, had traveled down from Scotland with their parents for Henrietta’s nuptials. Being able to attend Mary’s engagement ball and wedding, too, was an added bonus in Lucilla’s and her parents’ eyes, but Mary wasn’t so sure Marcus saw dallying in the capital in the same light.

Yet even as she chatted with her younger relative about the sights he’d seen thus far in town, her attention remained in some way linked to, attuned to, the man on her other side.

He who would shortly be her husband.

They’d spent the days and evenings since he’d joined her at Lady Percival’s ball and had so definitely claimed the position by her side largely in each other’s company. Until the following morning in the park when he’d arrived in his carriage to stroll the lawns beside her, she hadn’t fully appreciated the degree to which he’d established his social claim on her, but the way others now treated her, ladies young and old and gentlemen, too, eventually impinged and opened her eyes.

Once she’d realized . . . she’d been ready to narrow said eyes at him the instant he stepped beyond protective into possessive, yet although he’d sailed very close to that line on several occasions, as if sensitive to her impending ire, he’d tacked away from overstepping her mark every time he’d got too close.

They’d walked in the park, had strolled the length of Bond Street, and spent countless hours in his library—talking, discussing, arguing, relating anecdotes, and, even more amazing, indulging in companionable silences. Somewhat to her surprise, she’d discovered that they shared rather more than just a liking for always being in charge. In the evenings, he’d joined her and her mother in Brook Street, without argument or complaint accompanying them to whichever events her mother had selected; once there, he had set himself to make her evenings as pleasant as he could.

This morning, he’d arrived in a closed carriage—not his phaeton because, as he’d informed her, mindful of her strictures regarding their engagement waltz he’d decided against attempting to hold his horses—and they’d been driven out to Richmond to spend the day in the peace of the park there, returning to town with only just enough time to prepare for the whirl of this event, their engagement dinner and ball.

That he was putting himself out to please her, perhaps viewing that as an avenue to ease their way into their somewhat rushed union, was neither difficult to see nor particularly surprising. What had, however, captured her attention was the simple fact that in all he had set out to do, it truly