Page 64 of His One and Only Lady

~Miss Purity Mayfield, in a wedding invitation to her closest friends,

Joy Morrisette, Mercy Brockman, Chasity Terramier,

Faith Roth, and Trinity Ablethorne

Brightwicke Park

Home of the Marquess and Marchioness of Ballister

4 October 1818 – Early Afternoon

Her family.

Pausing at the entrance to her aunt and uncle’s drawing room, Purity’s heart overflowed with love and thankfulness. When she was an old, old woman, she would cherish the memory of the tableau before her.

Violetta, holding a sleeping Mayven, sat beside Jordan as they chatted with Lord and Lady Mumford. Chasity and Aston, Mercy and Ronan, and Joy and Brandon burst into laughter at something Raymond Rutland said. He’d arrived three weeks ago with his arm in a splint, which he still wore.

He was every bit the charming rogue Theran said he was.

Uncle Paul and Uncle Toliver were arguing good-naturedly over a proposed bill in Parliament. Their wives exchanged knowing glances. Purity had learned her uncles frequently debated each other on political matters.

Her cousins, and their spouses and children, had come for her and Theran’s wedding and stayed to celebrate Bernadine’s birthday. Outside, Jeffery, Landon, and Bernadine played with the other children and the new puppy—appropriately named Dotty.

“Happy, Mrs. Rutland?” Theran approached from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She put her hands atop his folded over her abdomen where perhaps already a babe had begun to grow. “Um-hum. Deliriously so.”

“Me too. I thank God every day for answering my prayer.”

“Mine too.” Tears of happiness pricked behind her eyelids. She slanted her neck to look up at him. “I thought you didn’t put much stock in religious falderol,” she teased.

“Forgive me for that, darling. Those words were spoken from a place of wounding.”

“I know, and I forgave you long ago.”

He quirked a rakish black eyebrow. “You look quite fetching in that gown. Another borrowed from your cousin?”

Purity glanced down at the seafoam green gown her cousin Laura had given her. “A gift from Laura. She said it was last Season’s. It’s the loveliest gown I’ve ever worn.”

Theran rested his chin on her head.

“I must go to London in a fortnight. I wish for you and Bernadine to come along. I intend to purchase you an entirely new wardrobe, down to new frilly underthings.” The last he uttered in a naughty whisper.

“Theran!” Purity cast a scandalized glance around. “Hush. Someone will overhear you.”

“We are newlyweds.” He tilted her head so her eyes met his. “They will understand.”

Poindexter Bambrick excused himself from a discussion with Purity’s cousins Roger and Michael and made his way to them.

A gentle, humble man in the middle of his sixth decade, Poindexter appeared far older. His marriage to Albertina had aged him.

“I appreciate you inviting me to Bernadine’s birthday celebration.”

“Of course, Dexter,” Theran said, coming around to Purity’s side. “We are family.”

Dexter removed his spectacles and wiped them with his handkerchief. “Yes, indeed. Now that Albertina has gone to live with Athena and her husband, I hope to be able to visit my granddaughter more often.”

He looked rather like a starving dog eager for a bone or a scrap of food tossed his way.