Magic in the Stars (31 page)

Hugh, sporting a large goose egg over his black-and-blue
eye, ran up and waited for acknowledgment. Fearing he brought news of potential
disaster, Aster introduced him to her family.

“That is three of you with bruised brows,” her aunt said in
puzzlement. “Are fisticuffs common in this household?”

“No, we simply attract trouble,” Aster said as cheerfully as
she could manage. “Did you have a question, Hugh?”

“The maids would like to watch the service, my lady. They
ask if they can bring down the little ones if they’re ever so quiet and stand
outside the door. And Uncle Pascoe sent word that he’ll be here shortly. Papa
said we should wait for him.”

Oh dear, she’d all but forgotten the little ones in the
nursery. She would be a shameful mother. But if she meant to include family—no
matter how huge a circle that meant—then she should start now.

“Of course they may attend. Why don’t you let them know as
soon as Mr. Ives arrives? Are the villagers being looked after outside?”

“It’s starting to sprinkle, so Mr. Browne has opened the
stable. They’re setting up tables there,” Hugh said cheerfully. “Cook has
covered the kitchen with food. I stole a cake.”

“Why don’t you run down and have them put together trays we
can circulate among the guests in here while we’re waiting? I’m not sure anyone
properly broke their fast this morning.” Except the twins, who never went
without food, ever, Aster had learned.

“Pascoe Ives will attend?” her aunt asked with interest as
Hugh ran off. “He’s well known in political circles and could be very useful in
our push for the child labor law.”

“I don’t know him well, but he has two small children, and
he can’t keep a nursemaid. So if you know anyone suitable, he would be most
appreciative. And since we seem to have time,” Aster said with a sigh and a
wistful glance toward Theo, “you should come speak with the marquess. He is
very proud and does not want anyone to notice his affliction. I would
appreciate it if one of you would explain what’s happening to him as we go on.”

As she led her aunt toward Duncan, Theo broke away from her
father to join them, leaving the earl to decide whether or not to follow. Aster
smothered a grin. Her bookish bridegroom wasn’t in the least concerned that
he’d just dumbfounded her father, who wasn’t accustomed to people turning their
back on him.

“Now we will see if you are up to dealing with my family
without running away to Wystan,” Aster murmured as Theo grabbed her hand.

He eyed the twigs in her hair with interest. “So far, I’m
more intrigued than intimidated.”

“Father did not nail you to the wall and torment you?” She
wished she could have been a fly on that wall, but she understood men had to
pretend they were in charge by having manly discussions.

“He is rightfully anxious about you. You and I know that I’m
a prince among men.” He flashed her one of those boyish grins that made Aster’s
insides flip with happiness. “But he needs it proved. I reminded him that his
daughter is the most astute of women and a perceptive reader of the zodiac and
would never join hands with a renegade. That oddly seemed to reassure him.”

His cheerful confidence melted her just a little more. Aster
wished the crowd away and wondered if she could persuade them that if Pascoe
wanted to be present, he should have been here by now.

“We cannot repair to our chamber until the guests are gone
anyway,” Theo whispered, as if he’d heard her thoughts.

“Could we invite them all to visit your telescopes and push
them off the roof?” she suggested. “That should be sufficient disaster to prove
my prediction.”

Instead of replying, he chuckled and took up the role of presenting
everyone to Duncan. Her groom was learning proper manners quickly, if only in
self-defense, to prevent their families from insulting or maiming each other
before they were introduced.

Duncan pried himself out of the chair to be presented to the
ladies, but Aster knew her family didn’t stand on formality and intervened on
his part. “As you know, the marquess is still recuperating from his accident
and must rest his leg. My lord, please do not continue standing and undo all
the doctor’s good work. Where is Dr. Joseph anyway? I invited him.”

“He has a patient in trouble and will be along later,” Lord Erran
offered curtly, wandering up to add to the crowd as Duncan gratefully sat down.
The marquess seemed to be locating voices well, but he was still tense.

Of all the Ives, Lord Erran was the most taciturn and the
most fashionably attired—which seemed at odds with his powerful boxer’s build. Aster
wished she’d had time to study her charts to see if her sister or Emilia would
suit him, but that would have to wait until she was married. Although she had a
notion her quiet, studious life of studying charts was about to end. She was
starting to understand some of Theo’s frustration.

She couldn’t believe she was actually marrying the brilliant
man she’d met little more than a month ago! Theo’s charts had shown the part of
murder followed by marriage. Her charts had given her no such warning.
Although, she realized with a sigh, she hadn’t been looking for marriage in her
stars.

Or perhaps
marriage
was the danger in her family sector, and she’d overlooked that angle.

Fortunately, the servants arrived with trays of food and
tea, and the crowd around Ashford began to part.

“Emilia is looking for a husband,” Aster whispered in Lord Erran’s
ear as he shifted to grab a small sandwich. “She has a very large inheritance.”

Looking mildly interested, he turned to find her tall cousin,
now speaking with Aster’s father.

“Brianna knows Mrs. Siddons,” she murmured to Jacques a
little later while pouring a cup of tea. His eyes widened, and he carried a
plate of delicacies in the direction of her younger sister.

As his brothers and her family began to drift off in
different directions, Theo hugged her. “Now do we get an explanation of the
twiggy hair?”

Apparently smelling the sweets, Duncan declined the tray a
footman waved beneath his nose. “Malcolm idiocy,” he answered without
hesitation. “I’ve heard about their ceremonies. They like to pretend they’re
bewitching you.”

Aster filled a small plate with delicacies and broke off a
bite-sized piece of a lemon bar. She popped it into Duncan’s mouth before he
finished his sentence. He glared but chewed.

“I like that solution,” Theo said, helping himself to the
other piece of the bar. “Every time he says something unpleasant, I shove food
in his mouth.”

“Large family, old trick,” Aster said with a dismissive
wave. “Aunt Daphne, you may explain to the marquess what we will be doing. If
Mr. Ives does not arrive before everyone is finished eating, then I suggest we
not take up more of the vicar’s valuable time and proceed with the ceremony.”

“Or we’ll have a stable full of drunken villagers who will
begin burning down the Hall,” Theo added helpfully. “I’m fairly certain the
kegs will have been breached by now. Whose idea was it to invite the village?”

“Mine,” the earl thundered, coming up behind them to grasp a
fistful of the sweets. “Marriages should be celebrated by the entire community.
If you’re not to do it proper in the kirk, then you must bring the congregation
here. I’ll not have my daughter married off in a ramshackle manner.”

Aster sighed and squeezed Theo’s hand. She should have
guessed. Theo pressed a kiss to her brow to show his lack of concern for her
father’s arrogance. Her groom smelled of sandalwood and lemon and she almost
licked him.

Duncan held out his hand for more lemon bar. “Then let us
hurry and finish the food and get this over with before the village is
staggering drunk. Are you wearing a frilly cape yet, Theo?”

“Cape?” he asked warily.

Daphne signaled for the valise. “You are all descendants of
Malcolms, however far removed, and fully entitled to the appropriate symbols. I
have brought black for Lord Theophilus in honor of your heritage.” Aster’s aunt
brought out a waist-length cloak of the sort a medieval knight might have worn.

“I hope you brought brooches,” Aster said, reaching for a sandwich
to settle her nervous stomach. “I had to search the house up and down for
sufficient pins for my attire and have nothing left to pin a cape.”

Daphne held up matching gold circle pins. Aster sighed and
allowed her lovely silk bodice to be covered by a white silk cloak pinned by a
gold brooch. At least it didn’t entirely conceal what her low-cut neckline
revealed and that Theo had been admiring.

Her bridegroom frowned warily at the rowan circlet but
obediently stooped so her aunt could place it on his thick hair. It immediately
slid to one side, and he had to catch it.

“Theo’s head is too big for the rowan,” Aster told Duncan,
who couldn’t see the silliness but listened appreciatively.

“Perhaps we can pin a brooch to his head,” the marquess said
dryly.

“Very helpful, big brother. I shall remember that when the
time comes. Aster, make certain he marries another Malcolm,” Theo ordered,
submitting to the rather dramatic black cape that worked well draped over one
shoulder of his black and white attire.

“Yes, master,” she acquiesced with a mock curtsy—which drew
his appreciative eye to the little cleavage she now revealed. “Do you think we
could break out the sherry yet? I’m not certain I can tolerate the suspense
much longer. What if your uncle is leading a band of wild savages or has
crashed his horse over a bluff or wild lions have leapt out upon him? How long
must we wait?”

“Duncan’s eaten the last lemon bar from our plate,” Theo
noted. “That’s signal enough for me.”

“I’ve a biscuit to go,” her father said with a nasty grin.
“How much will ye pay me to scarf it down?”

“Do you want me to take Aster to see her family on our
wedding journey or shall we go to the Outer Hebrides instead?” Theo asked
without rancor, taking the sweet and handing half to Aster.

Aster beamed happily. “See, Papa? I am marrying a master of compromise.
Just don’t anger him.”

Theo placed a finger of warning over her lips and nodded
toward the entrance. “The mob approaches.”

The delighted screeches of two toddlers in the foyer spoke
for themselves. The maids hadn’t waited to come down—and Pascoe had apparently arrived.
Nervously, Aster straightened her cape, then took Theo’s hand again.

“Is the vicar still standing?” she whispered, afraid to look
after all the liquor had been passed around.

“He’s a good, teetotaling man.” Theo gestured for the vicar
to join them.

“Teetotaling?” Aster asked weakly. “Is that cant?”

“Ask the vicar,” Theo said with a shrug. “He’s the one who
used the term. I think it means he frowns on inebriation. We’ll have to send
him away before the kegs are emptied.”

Pascoe strode in, drenched from the rain, and carrying his
young twins. “Let the party commence!” he shouted into the sudden silence
following a crack of thunder.

“It’s a solemn ceremony of matrimony, not a heathen
festival,” the vicar retorted, striding toward the hearth where the
participants stood.

“Oops, we’d better look holy,” Aster whispered to her groom
as the vicar eyed their rowan and capes with suspicion.

“Tradition,” Theo told the wary vicar in a grave tone. “You
will be joining two very old families who are set in their ways. I trust you
won’t mind our eccentricities.”

“I’d mind them less if you spent more time in church. I’ll
count myself lucky that you have bothered to request my presence at all.” The
vicar stationed himself in front of the unlit hearth and raised his voice over
the growing roar of rain. “Dearly
beloved, we are gathered together . . .”

Theo held Aster’s hand so tightly, she thought her bones
might break.

“I believe everyone has slid under the table by now,” Theo
whispered, leading his bride to the back stairwell later that evening. He held
up his candle and admired her now disheveled beauty. The village guests had insisted
on several rounds of dancing to a fiddle. Her face was flushed and her smile—so
beautiful that his heart, and other parts lower, ached.

His bride had been the toast of the party, but Theo’s mind currently
had only one thought in it—and it wasn’t dancing.

“It’s been a lovely celebration,” Aster sighed in
satisfaction, taking his hand and examining his bruised knuckles. “You should
not have punched that silly twit. He isn’t worth the bruise much less the
brawl.”

He couldn’t remember a time when anyone had been concerned
about the state of his knuckles. His selfish side relished the attention—only
because it was his intriguing bride offering it.

His bride—a woman who was all his. He was feeling very
caveman-ish as he led her up the stairs.

“If Montfort’s father won’t teach him how to behave, someone
must.” Theo grinned in satisfaction at the memory of plowing his fist into the
pup’s square jaw. “Although I rather like your father’s method of lesson-teaching.
Your interference may have kept us both from flinging him into the pond, and I
doubt that Roddy ever exerted himself to learn to swim. I think disaster has
been nicely averted for today.”

He rubbed the sapphire-and-gold ring he’d placed on her
finger hours ago, claiming her as his. They’d returned the capes and rowan to
her aunt directly after the ceremony—which had exposed the full beauty of his
bride’s bosom for his admiration. He’d spent the afternoon wishing everyone
would fall off a cliff so he could have her alone.

When she’d disappeared from the festivities to feed her
cats, he’d grabbed the opportunity for escape. After she’d seen to her pets, he’d
led her astray.

Finally
, he had
her alone.

“Amazingly, everyone has been on what passes for their best
behavior,” she acknowledged. “Ashford has retired to his room, and your
brothers dragged Bree and Dee off to the dancing. I think they’re all
sufficiently diverted to make our escape, if only I knew where we’re escaping
to!” She looked up at him expectantly.