Christopher tried his best to raise only one eyebrow. He was pretty certain Sir Oscar would speak of nothing else.
He felt his wife’s satin-like hands (which were blessedly no longer dyed blue) touch his cheeks and then move to his eyebrows. She lifted one of them. “Are you trying to give me a quizzical glance?”
“Is it working, dove?”
Shaking her head, she giggled, a sound that never failed to fill him with warmth and happiness. “I will protect you from Uncle Oscar.”
“And your aunt Beatrice, the Marchioness of Chapman?”
Her nose wrinkled as she grinned.
“And your grumpy grandfather?”
“You can hide behind my skirts—no one will see you.”
Christopher couldn’t help but chuckle. He was a great deal taller and broader in the shoulders than his wife. There was no way he could ever hide behind her. “I’d rather play hide-and-seek with you.”
“Who is doing the hiding and who is doing the finding?”
Attempting innocence, Christopher said, “I thought we could hide together.”
“Did you now? And who is going to find us?”
“Hopefully, none of your relatives.”
She swatted his shoulder playfully. “For shame. Come. I want to show you off to all of my family.”
“Like a prized bull.”
Sarah raised one eyebrow again in her satirical way. “Your words, not mine, dear husband.”
Leaning onto her tiptoes, his wife gave him a long and lingering kiss. Truthfully, he would follow her anywhere.
***
Aunt Venetia had certainly outdone herself on the party. The three sets of ballroom doors were all flung open, and the wedding party flowed easily out into the gardens.
The wedding cake that Aunt Venetia had worried so much about was large enough to feed a village. Possibly two. The frosting was the same color as a Malmaison rose, a perfectly delicate pink. Decorative white sugar-icing figures garnished each of the three layers. Her cook must have spent weeks creating the figures that looked remarkably like real people. It was the most ornate and intricate cake Sarah had ever seen.
No one would forget her wedding cake now. She would ask her aunt to send a slice to all the members of the sewing society and her neighbors. Her parents had not socialized with the local community, and Sarah had discovered firsthand that being above one’s company was a very lonely place to be. Neither shenor Christopher, whose hand she was holding tightly, would be lonesome today.
Aunt Venetia met them both with hugs and kisses. Christopher’s face flushed a bright shade of red after her aunt kissed his cheek. Sarah couldn’t keep her mirth inside.
Her aunt patted him on his bearded cheek. “You’re even handsomer when you smile, Mr. Moulton. And you’ve kept our Sarah close to us, for which I will forever be indebted to you. Now, don’t forget the cake, for you did last time!”
Still chortling, Sarah nodded and assured her aunt that neither she nor her husband would forget the wedding cake this time. She tugged her husband to Uncle Oscar, who hugged and kissed her. Happily, for her husband’s sake, he only shook Christopher’s free hand.
“The canal is coming along well,” Uncle Oscar said, back to his favorite topic. “How many workers do you have out there?”
“Over two hundred,” Christopher said.
“And it’ll only cost me seven hundred pounds.”
“Correct, sir.”
Uncle Oscar patted Christopher on the shoulder. “You married a clever fellow, Sarah.”
She blithely agreed, and they moved on to Cousin Ralph, who hugged them both. “When you get back from your trip, do tell me which London clubs you’d like me to put your name up for, Christopher. Someone needs to rescue you from a houseful of women.”