other side; Stacie saw her sometimes scarifying sister-in-law understandingly squeeze Felicia’s arm. “Ryder and I couldn’t be happier over this union. While some might say Kit could have done better, I strongly suspect he never would have—that if he hadn’t found Sylvia, he wouldn’t have married at all. He certainly had no thoughts of marriage when he left the Abbey for Bristol.” After a second of observing the happy couple, Mary added, “Ryder says Sylvia brings out the best in Kit, not by pushing but simply by giving him the opportunity to be all he can be.”
Felicia nodded. “I agree. Sylvia has no concept of how to manage a man—she never has had. Instead, she’ll simply assume Kit will step up to the mark—”
“And,” Stacie concluded, “because he’s besotted and is happy to do whatever she wants, he will.”
Mary chuckled. “The power of positive expectations. Hmm.” Her gaze cut to her husband, standing to one side talking to Kit’s other groomsmen, Rand and Godfrey, then to her three children, who had acted as pageboys and flower girl and who were presently standing opposite their father and, uncharacteristically quietly, watching the newlyweds. After a second of observing her children, Mary rather distractedly said, “I really must see if I can use the same tactic—and now might be an excellent time to attempt it. If you’ll excuse me, I suspect I have mayhem to avert.”
Stacie and Felicia chuckled as Mary stepped down and headed to where her children stood.
Shortly afterward, Kit and Sylvia were ushered by the crowd to the church doors. Along with the rest of the bridal party, Stacie followed and, from the porch, watched as the newlyweds descended the church steps to the pavement, showered with rice all the way. Laughing, arm in arm, the pair turned at the curb, waved, then made for the hall of the Council House on the other side of the street, where the wedding breakfast was to be held.
Those invited to partake—family and close friends—waited on the church steps while the rest of the crowd, smiling and laughing, dispersed in groups of twos and threes, heads together, excitedly reviewing all they’d seen and heard. Once the crowd had gone, the invited guests strolled after Kit and Sylvia.
Stacie had attended so many wedding breakfasts over her twenty-six years that, once the speeches started, she tended to stop listening. In this case, however, she found her attention transfixed, not so much by the words uttered as by the sight of Kit and Sylvia and the emotion that glowed all but tangibly between them. It was there in their faces whenever their gazes met. Visibly there even when one merely looked upon the other.
Of her mother’s four children, Stacie would have marked Kit as the least likely to put his faith in love. To take the risk and give his heart to any lady, yet plainly, he had.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t see the attraction—the lure of a home, a welcoming hearth, and a loving and supportive family. With Ryder and Mary, and Rand and Felicia, and now Kit and Sylvia all marrying for love, Stacie couldn’t pretend not to understand the benefits and joys of giving one’s heart into the keeping of another.
Another person one trusted to that depth, to that extent.
Trusted to the point of placing one’s most precious and vital inner secrets into that person’s hands.
It was that critical issue of trust that had long ago convinced her that love and marriage could never be hers—that she should never aspire to such a union.
She let her gaze travel over her older siblings—her half brother, Ryder, and her brothers Rand and Kit. Despite the misgivings she imagined all three must have harbored courtesy of Lavinia, the late marchioness, all three had had the courage to willingly trust another. She knew they wouldn’t have done so lightly, and, indeed, she felt certain all three had made the right decision.
Mary could and did manipulate with the best of them, but in that she merely matched Ryder, and Mary would never, ever, harm Ryder, much less her children. If any dared threaten her family, Mary transformed into a tigress—not a being wise people crossed.
As for Felicia, she, too, knew how to manipulate, but her love for Rand meant she rarely attempted to manipulate him. She and Rand shared a passion for logic and order and, from all Stacie had seen and heard, discussions between them tended to occur on a very rational and direct level.
And as Felicia