Page 111 of A Murder at Kew Gardens

I laughed. “I’m marrying too, Grandmother.”

She pressed my hand. “Yes, you are, child. I’m so glad you finally came to your senses. I don’t mind saying I was seriously worried about you.”

Fighting back a grin, I said, “Do tell.”

She pinned me with one of her glares. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, dear.”

I bit down on my tongue. “Yes, Grandmother.”

A footman and maid interrupted with the tea service and a plate of biscuits. After I poured for us both, she glanced around. “It can’t be here. The place is at sixes and sevens. Best have it at Steele House. You can hold the ceremony in the drawing room and the wedding breakfast in the ballroom.”

“Well, I’d…Warwick would need to approve.”

“I imagine it won’t take much convincing. He’ll approve anything you propose.”

“Why is everyone so sure he’ll agree to anything I suggest?”

Her gaze softened. “Because the man’s in love with you.”

I sighed. “Yes, he is that.”

“So, how can I help?”

To my surprise, she offered excellent suggestions. After a half hour or so, she took her leave as there was much for her to do. She departed with her cane in one hand and a list in the other, no doubt already preparing to mobilize her Dowager Battalion.

I stood in the quiet drawing room thinking of where we were. Cosmos had taken his place at the head of the family again. Claire would learn Rosehaven. Fox would return to school. William was home. Holly and Ivy would remain with Cosmos and Claire. Laurel, Chrissie, and Petunia were coming with me. Grandmother was arranging my wedding.

And Warwick was somewhere in London obtaining the license that would make it possible.

For years, I had held the Rosehavens together with both hands, terrified that if I loosened my grip, even a little, something would fall. We’d stumbled and sometimes, despite my best efforts, fallen, but we’d always come right again.

Taking a deep breath, I let it all go.

I was going to marry the man I loved. And, for the moment, that was quite enough.

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

With All My Heart

Of course, I couldn’t let it all go. There were matters that needed to be dealt with. So I spent the next couple of hours making lists, stopping occasionally to pen a letter.

The first went to the housekeeper at Rosehaven Manor. After informing her about the change in circumstances, I directed her to pack my fall and winter things, along with Chrissie's and Laurel's, and have the trunks shipped to Thornburn Abbey. Petunia was another matter entirely. She'd grown so over the spring and summer that nothing remained that fit, and there'd be no time to remedy it before we left London. That, I decided, would have to wait until we reached Thornburn Abbey. Surely a village seamstress could be found there to take on the task.

My siblings’ teacher gave me the greatest pause. She had friends at Rosehaven Manor, as well as a burgeoning romance with our local vicar. So, more than likely, she would remain with Holly and Ivy. That meant Petunia and Laurel would need someone new—someone, I underlined twice, willing to remove herself to the far edge of the moors and its harsh winter weather. The other staff members presented fewer difficulties. Tilly was a certainty, along with Chrissie’s and Laurel’s maid and Petunia’s minder.

Then there was the wedding itself. Grandmother might have very well put herself in charge of the venue and everything that accompanied it. But a guest list had to be assembled. My preference ran to family and close friends only. I would need to consult Warwick. The invitations would have to be delivered by messenger, there being no time to trust them to the post. And regardless of where the ceremony was held, food would have to be arranged for the wedding breakfast, and the flowers as well. I wrote menu and flowers and confirm venue with W. in a tidy column and felt, for one foolish moment, as though I had the whole affair well in hand.

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting my planning. Tilly, as it turned out.

"My lady. Supper will be in two hours. You'll want to bathe and dress."

I glanced at the clock on the mantel, which showed a quarter past five. "Is it that time already?"

I took my time with my bath and my dressing. Warwick had proposed to me in all my dirt. Tonight, I wanted to present the best version of myself. Once Tilly was done with my toilette, I descended the stairs, reaching the drawing room but a few minutes before Warwick arrived, the Duchess of Steele and Lord Nicholas with him. The children had been asked to delay their entrance until those greetings were done. They waited all of five minutes to swarm the drawing room with their shrieks of laughter—sans Snowball, who had been confined to her cage.

Petunia was first, of course. Bypassing everyone, she rushed up to Warwick and hugged as much of him as she could. And then as if she’d suddenly remembered the correct etiquette, she stepped back and offered her finest curtsy. “Your Grace.”