Barefoot in Hyde Park (The Hellion Club Book 2) by Chasity Bowlin

Author:Chasity Bowlin [Bowlin, Chasity]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Romance, Historical, Fiction
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-01-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Lilly entered the church on Val’s arm at five minutes to nine o’clock, the first hour in which any wedding ceremony could be legally performed. She was tired. Her sleep, limited as it was, had been fitful the night before after the encounter with Elsworth. It was something she’d have to share with Val, she knew, but it didn’t seem quite the time.

As she looked toward the altar, a smile spread across her face. He’d said he would take care of the witnesses and when she saw Effie standing there, next to a man with dark good looks and questionable fashion sense, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you for thinking to invite Effie,” she whispered. “With Willa in the country, it’s nice to have someone here that I consider family.”

He nodded but seemed uncomfortable with the praise. “You’re very welcome.”

“Who is that with her?”

“He’s a friend,” Val replied. “Lord Highcliff. He issued the invitation to her on our behalf.”

“Why would he do that?” Lilly asked, eyeing him with curiosity.

“I believe that he and Miss Darrow are well acquainted with another,” Val answered.

He wasn’t lying. But he wasn’t telling her the entire truth. Lilly was certain of that. If he was as easy to read at the card tables as he was with her, it was a wonder he’d ever managed to fleece anyone. “I don’t know whatever made you think you could be a spy! You’re a terrible liar. Say what you mean, Valentine.”

“I think they have an affection for one another… but one they are both clearly in denial of at present,” he admitted. It was still carefully worded and very cagey, but his meaning was abundantly clear.

Lilly looked at them, once more, her gaze traveling back and forth between them. Surely not. The man was barely respectable from what she had heard. He was not dressed in the standard of the day. He’d eschewed Beau Brummell’s more minimalist and masculine style in favor of something that harkened back to an earlier time—so much so that he appeared rather foppish. The morning coat he wore was not the gray, blue, black or even deep green favored by so many. It was a shocking shade of chartreuse that clashed with his blindingly yellow waistcoat. If that wasn’t enough, his breeches had been tailored so closely to his body that it was surely a wonder they had permitted him in the church.

As they neared the pulpit, the bishop emerged from a doorway to their left. He was dressed in a red cassock and looked terribly important. And terribly disapproving. “This is the couple, Lord Highcliff?”

“Yes, your grace,” Highcliff replied. “Lord Valentine Augustus Somers, Viscount Seaburn and Miss Lillian—forgive me, my dear, but I do not know your middle name?”

“It’s Avon, my lord.”

“Like the river?” he asked.

“Yes.” The name had been a final insult from her father given the manner in which he claimed her mother had died. She should only be thankful he hadn’t named her after the Thames.

“Shall we get started?” Effie asked cheerfully, clearly knowing that it was a sore subject.

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