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And they had come, in droves.
Daniel looked out over Danesford’s wide back lawn in trepidation. He’d been glad for the woman’s interference. At first. He’d not wanted some shabby, hastily-put-together affair for Margery. She deserved everything and more.
Now, however…
He took a deep draught of his champagne. The stuff had been flowing like water since the ceremony several hours before, and he’d taken advantage of that fact. Already his brain was properly fuzzy. Unfortunately, his slightly inebriated state had done nothing to decrease his unease. No, it was surely more than mere unease. After all, it appeared as if all of London had made the trek to Synne for the wedding. Ironic, that, he thought with a wry smile, as he had fought so blasted hard to stay away from that illustrious city; now his marriage to Margery had brought that city to him. The guests, nearly all of them unknown to him, dressed in all their elegant finery, congregated in an undulating mass across the smooth green expanse of lawn now, talking and laughing and making merry. One group in particular caught his eye: Lord and Lady Tesh stood conversing in an animated fashion with Mr. Kitteridge and his family. Margery was in the midst of them, one arm tucked in her father’s, her face glowing with happiness as he laughed at something she said.
She stood out like a beacon to him, a veritable ray of sunshine. But it wasn’t owing to her pale-yellow gown, nor the mass of white rosebuds that festooned the thick, loose mane of her hair. No, it was her, and her alone. The essence of her. He let loose a sigh of happiness as he watched her. How was it possible that such a glorious creature could be his?
As if she heard him, she turned, her gaze finding his. She smiled, in her eyes all the love she had for him, and the promise of their future.
His unease was gone in a moment. Placing his glass down on a stone balustrade, he grabbed up his cane and started off toward her.
Just then, however, two heavy hands landed on his shoulders. Startled, he stopped and glanced back into the faces of the Dukes of Dane and Reigate—ah, no, he reminded himself. They had asked to be called Peter and Quincy. Though, he thought with some trepidation as he saw their stern expressions, perhaps their friendly overtures toward the newest member of their family were at an end.
“Walk with us, won’t you?” Quincy smiled, which should have put Daniel at ease. Instead his bared teeth, an expression that could only be calledpredatory, made alarm bells peal in Daniel’s head.
But he couldn’t very well refuse them. These men were family now, after all. Besides that, they were incredibly dear to Margery. And so, sighing, he allowed himself to be guided down the steps and into the side garden.
Immediately the sounds of merriment and revelry faded, the thick foliage dulling it to a muted rumble. Most of the guests were gathered across the rolling back lawn, beneath billowing white tents, surrounded by elegant tables topped with all manner of silver and fine china and delicious delicacies. But here, along the meandering path that butted up to the house, there was not a soul to be seen.
Which perhaps should have given him warning that this was not going to be the most pleasant conversation. Yet he was still wholly surprised when the two men turned down a side path and guided him to a small fountain…which was conveniently positioned behind a hedge, making it almost frighteningly private.
Daniel eyed them with trepidation. The two men were beasts, each as tall as Daniel was. One light and rough, the other dark and debonair, they were, quite literally, as different as night and day. Yet both wore identical expressions of furious judgment. Like two avenging angels about to wreak havoc.
Daniel cleared his throat, feeling instinctively—for reasons unknown—they wished to intimidate him but refusing to be cowed. “Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?”
“I don’t know,” Quincy drawled, his nearly black eyes scanning Daniel from head to shoe. “What do you think, Peter? Is there something he can help us with?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt there is,” Peter said, the sound of it more a low rumble of thunder than the voice of a man. He crossed his massive arms over his chest; the muscles strained against the fine material, bunching with a threatening flex, even as he widened his stance. Like a sailor on board a ship. Or a pugilist ready to throw a punch. From the deadly look in his eye, Daniel rather thought it was the latter.
“But perhaps he doesn’t understand just how precious this person is that he’s taking from us,” the blond Viking of a duke continued.
“Hmmm, mayhap you’re right,” Quincy said. “I suppose there’s only one thing to do.” He grinned with wicked intent, his gaze never leaving Daniel. “We must make him understand, fully and completely, just how important she is to us. And that we will see he pays should he cause even a single tear of sadness to fall from her eyes.”
“But how to do that?” Peter continued. Stepping closer to Daniel, his cool blue eyes narrowed dangerously, a muscle ticking in his jaw beneath his closely trimmed golden beard. “How do we make him understand that Margery’s happiness is paramount to our own. She is my dear cousin, after all, and Lenora’s best friend in the world.”
“Not to mention my Clara’s cousin. As well as my own close friend. Why, I do believe, Peter, that Margery is one of the most important people in the world to us,” he said, his voice dipping to a deep rumble as he stepped closer as well. They boxed Daniel in on both sides so that escape could only be had by falling back in the fountain—something Daniel was not opposed to doing in that unnerving moment. The cold stone Poseidon at its center looked a sight more welcoming than the two men standing before him, after all.
“I do hope Margery’s husband, lucky bastard that he is, understands just how important she is to us,” Peter replied, talking about Daniel as if he were not even present, though his gaze had not wavered. “And that we would do anything to make certain she does not have a day of unhappiness as his wife.”
The men fell silent then, glaring at Daniel. And Daniel, quickly taking stock of the situation, realized this could go one of several ways. He could lash out in anger, which could let the men know he was not to be underestimated; though in doing so he could possibly drive a permanent wedge between him and them. He could stammer and quake in the wake of their combined fury, cementing the idea that he was weak and could be easily manipulated. He could laugh it off and leave them to stew in their outrage. Or…
Or, he thought with a smile, he could let them know just how much Margery meant to him.
He looked them full in the face, one after the other, and said, his voice deep and calm and certain, “I love Margery with everything in me. She is my entire world. I promise, here and now, that for whatever time we’re blessed with, for however long I have with her, whether it’s a single day or a hundred years, I will never stop working to make her happy. I will do everything in my power to show her, in word and deed, how much I adore her.”
For a moment there was silence, the two men staring hard at him. Daniel merely raised his chin, his gaze unwavering, the certainty in his love for Margery, and hers for him, making his heart feel as if it were fairly glowing from within him.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the dukes relaxed, grins breaking over their faces.
“Splendid,” Quincy said, holding out a hand and shaking Daniel’s heartily. “Glad to hear it.”
“You understand,” Peter said, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly manner, “we had to make sure you knew that Margery is protected. She’s very dear to us.”
“Of course,” Daniel murmured. “And I’m glad to know that she has such fierce protectors should I ever fail. Which, I can assure you, I won’t,” he finished, with just enough steel in his voice to let the men know his place at Margery’s side was not to be trifled with.
“Oh, he’ll do,” Quincy murmured with a grin for his friend.
