Page 2 of Bedded Under The Christmastide Moon

“Mellie?” Brigham whispered in that soothing tone that was his alone. Light but nonetheless masculine.

She brought her gaze to meet his as he dragged his fingers through his curling hair and pushed it behind one ear. His hesitant smile and wide eyes made all the larger by his round spectacles gave her pause. In another lifetime, Mellie would have been happy and content to lose herself in Brigham’s dark brown eyes every day.

Had the vicar asked something that was lost due to Mellie’s wandering thoughts?

When Brigham continued to stare at her, Mellie glanced at the vicar, who also had his glare trained on her.

Without thought, she nodded.

The wide smile that appeared told her Brigham was satisfied with her answer.

Suddenly, their meager gathering of guests stood and clapped, smiles beaming from every direction, except that of her newly acquired cousin, the new Baron Montfort.

Brigham leaned toward her, and his lips grazed hers quickly before he took her bouquet and handed it to a waiting servant.

His smooth hand took hers, though she could not actually feel his skin through her cream-colored gloves. As a pair, they turned toward the waiting crowd.

Behind them, the vicar announced loudly for all to hear, “May I introduce Viscount and Viscountess Whitmore.”

Mellie attempted to smile for their guests, but it traveled no farther than her lips. Her green eyes held no twinkle. Her chin was not held high. And her cheeks were not the rosy hue of an excited woman ready to start her new life as a wedded lady.

Persephone Duggan—Brigham’s elder sister—and her husband clapped with unbridled joy, their two young children joining in. As another friend of Mellie’s, Brigham’s sister had been overjoyed at the news of their betrothal and upcoming nuptials—so much so that she and her husband had packed up their small family and hurried to Hertfordshire to witness the blessed event.

Even her mother stood with the help of Mellie’s maid, Lilly, and applauded.

No one present was deluded as to the reason behind her and Brigham’s hasty marriage, yet that did nothing to diminish their joy over the union.

Mellie only wished she felt a fraction of their good cheer.

Brigham’s hand tightened around hers. “You are trembling, Mellie.”

She kept her eyes focused on their guests to keep from looking him in the eyes, for he was the one man who knew her well enough to reach through any excuse she uttered and see she was withering within.

“I cannot believe this is done, we are wed.” And that you gave up any chance of finding love on your own terms for me. There was little hope she’d ever be in a position to repay his kindness or be worthy of all he was giving her. “I will see to my mother before we retire to the house for our meal.”

When she started to pull away, Brigham kept a firm hold on her hand. “Are you certain you and the dowager will not accompany me to London? There are well-educated physicians in town, and I will have your mother set up in my townhouse. You will want for nothing. My sister and Saxton live close, and you will have a friend.”

Mellie shook her head, glancing back at him. “My mother will not make the journey to town.”

“Perhaps in a month or two?”

“The sickness only grows worse. You know that, Brigham.” Which he did know…they both knew. They’d lived the awful fate of her father along with her sire. Each day, the baron’s cough had grown worse until he could not so much as wheeze without blood staining the cloth he held to his mouth. Brigham hadn’t borne witness to it every day, but he’d journeyed home from London at least once a month. “She is comfortable here, and the servants are as close as family. I would not wish for her to spend her final days in a foreign city, surrounded by strangers.”

Mellie couldn’t bring her eyes to his. She didn’t wish to see the disappointment that likely lingered there. She’d noticed it since she agreed to wed him but remained steadfast in her decision to stay at Hockcliffe Manor. It wasn’t her family home, but it was a place she and her mother were very familiar with. Even the servants had known her family for decades.

“When will you depart?” She pulled her hand from his grasp and let it fall to her side.

“After our wedding feast.” He pushed his round glasses up on the bridge of his nose. It was a habit Brigham had done since youth—one she would have teased him about only a few years prior. “I have the bill to—“

Mellie held up her hand. “You need explain nothing to me.”

“Persephone, Saxton, and the children will depart with me.” Brigham glanced over her shoulder at the crowd that was likely dispersing, making their way toward the great hall where a small celebration was to take place for the new couple.

Brigham sighed as he clenched and unclenched his hands in front of him.

“Is there something else?” Mellie asked.

“If you do not wish me to depart, I can delay…”