Mary looked at him directly then, her gaze holding his own, a hopeful anticipation written clearly on her lovely features. “We shall weather any opposition together, and surely in the end he shall see that all is well.”
He could not find it in his heart to apprise her of just how bad the situation might become. What if she was correct? What if his father did come around? Nodding jerkily, Ian replied earnestly, “If he will allow himself to see you as I do, Mary, he will be hard-pressed to find any fault with you.”
She blushed and turned back to her contemplation of the passing scene. Thinking to forestall any more questions about his family for the moment, Ian closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the seat.
Perhaps because he had discussed his father with Mary, the reality of what he had done was finally beginning to set in. He was married to Mary Fulton—Sinclair now—and on his way home to Sinclair Hall. He did not question his immediate need to take her home, to see what his father would say to him, to discover if Malcolm Sinclair would accept his son’s selection of a bride. He only hoped that his wife’s optimistic view of the future would indeed occur. Reason made him doubt the possibility greatly.
Mary’s ready agreement to his suggestion that they begin the journey to Sinclair Hall immediately after the ceremony had surprised him. He did not have to open his eyes to know that she remained pale with nervousness, which he could understand. It was that discernible level of dubious excitement that somehow made him uncomfortable.
All through the two days leading up to the ceremony and even during it, Ian had not let himself think of anything other than that he had made the right decision. This had been made easier by the fact that there was much to do in a short time. He’d procured a special license, answered Victoria and Jedidiah’s surprised queries with aplomb, made travel arrangements and hired men to see to the packing and moving of the rest of Mary’s belongings.
He’d given no more than a passing thought to what his friends and acquaintances in London might say concerning his marriage. When they did learn of it they would surely be surprised, but would quickly immerse themselves in the many amusements that occupied their waking hours. He expected no more, having chosen his companions carefully. He wanted no one to ask unpleasant questions about his private life, and wanted no involvement in anyone else’s personal concerns.
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