A Lady Most Lovely (22 page)

“I don’t mean it in
that
way,” Tom amended quickly. “Everything between us has been perfectly proper. But she has some legal and financial affairs that need attending to right away. As her husband I will be in a better position to help her.”

Geoffrey shook his head, still unconvinced. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through completely?”

“He’s right,” Lizzie said reluctantly. “You do have a tendency to leap rather swiftly into action.”

Tom paced to the fireplace, then paused when he realized he was illustrating what Lizzie had just said. It was true; he preferred action. But he wanted to assure them he was no longer as reckless as he had once been. “Trust me, we’ve been over everything carefully. The lawyers have drawn up all the papers—”

“I’m speaking of more than legalities,” Geoffrey said. “What I mean is, how well do you really know her?”

“Know her?” At times Tom felt he knew her like his own soul. At other times, she was a complete mystery. In Tom’s mind, the real question was whether he wanted to know
more,
and the answer to that was unequivocally yes. But he did not think that answer would alleviate
Geoffrey’s concerns, so he said instead, “You know her story. She comes from an old and well-respected family. Her father’s death two years ago left her with no immediate relatives.” He saw no need to mention Margaret’s cousins, since they had been cut out of her life.

“Perhaps the more important question is what does she know of
our
family?” Geoffrey said. “How much have you told her about your past? Or about Lizzie? About why the two of you went to Australia?”

It was an issue that could not be ignored. Years before, Lizzie had fallen in love with a wealthy young man named Freddie Hightower. Seducing her with promises of marriage, Hightower had taken her to Europe only to abandon her there. Tom had shot him in a duel and then fled to Australia, taking Lizzie with him. No one outside their immediate family knew this part of her past. They knew only that Lizzie had been living in Australia when she’d learned of her connection to the Thornboroughs and decided to return to England.

Lizzie grasped a cushion and held it tightly, her forehead creased with worry. “I hadn’t thought of that! Tom, will she keep our secret? If anyone else should discover my scandal… that would be disastrous…”

Tom swiftly returned to her side. “Don’t worry, Lizzie. You and I made a pact long ago never to speak of those events. There will be no need for Margaret to keep that secret, because she will never know it.”

“It is not a good start to a marriage to be keeping things from your wife,” Geoffrey said with concern. “Marriage ought to be based on full openness and trust.”

“But doesn’t it say in Psalms that God forgives our sins and remembers them no more?” Tom asked earnestly.
“Shouldn’t we also live that way, and not bring up past mistakes that the Lord has already forgiven us for?”

“You are turning into quite the Bible scholar, Tom,” Lizzie said, but her voice held gentle reproof. “Don’t forget Geoffrey is an ordained clergyman. He has great knowledge in these matters.”

“I beg your pardon, Geoffrey,” Tom said. “I meant no disrespect. However, I believe we must keep this matter private.”

A long silence followed this pronouncement, while Geoffrey considered Tom’s words and Lizzie looked at them both anxiously. At last Geoffrey sighed and said, “As you wish. I have had my say, but you must do as you see fit.”

Tom knew it was the right answer. Lizzie let out a great sigh, her eyes misting with tears as she told Geoffrey, “I must confess I am relieved.”

Geoffrey still looked troubled but he simply said, “We will take things one day at a time.”

Lizzie gave him a grateful smile, then turned back to Tom. “And now, dear brother, I have one more thing to ask you.”

“Anything,” Tom said.

“Well… to be honest… when you returned to London I had worried that you would be beset by fortune hunters. But instead, you are engaged to someone who is rich already!” She beamed. “Does this mean Margaret understands what a treasure
you
are? I can see how much you love her, but tell me—does she return your love?”

This was a question with no simple answer. Margaret
did
need his money. But never, ever would he think of her as a fortune hunter. After all, he had pursued
her,
hadn’t
he? Not the other way around. All he knew for sure as he looked into his sister’s clear, wide eyes, so full of love and completely without guile, was that he could not lie to her. So he simply said with a hint of self-deprecation, “Margaret is willing to marry me. Does not love make fools of us all?”

T
he morning fog was dense, slowing the pace of Margaret’s carriage as it brought her to the ceremony that would change her life forever. So many details of this day were exactly as she had laid them out weeks before. She was dressed in a fine white dress and lace veil, and would be married in a large church in front of hundreds of well-wishers. She and the groom would host a wedding breakfast so grand that they had to hire a banquet hall, as there was not enough room in her hired house to hold all the guests. Then they would return to Lincolnshire and begin the task of revitalizing Moreton Hall.

There was just one, vitally significant difference: the groom.

Margaret twisted her hands in her lap, toying with a delicately embroidered handkerchief. Was today proof that she could meet disaster and still come out victorious, or was she the butt of a very elaborate joke planned by the Fates? She had done all she could to be sure it was the former. The lawyers had drawn up everything to her
satisfaction, amazed at the concessions Tom had willingly made.

Yet still she felt uneasy. Once they were married, any number of things might turn out to be beyond her control. Her lawyers had confirmed Tom’s financial status through a variety of reliable sources, and yet Tom’s choice of a business partner worried her. Sullivan was an ex-convict. He’d been sent down to Australia for murder and theft. Although the murder charge had been commuted, could a man such as that really be trusted?

And what about Tom himself? Everyone was of the opinion that Tom was an honorable man, but many had been fooled by Paul, too. She could not be totally sure the legal agreements were safe from challenge. Tom might well be able to get them overturned in a court of law if he put his mind and resources to it. Lord Somerville had vouched for him—surely she should trust the word of a clergyman? She gave a small, hollow laugh. She’d never known a man of the cloth to be reliable simply because of a title the church chose to give him.

“I’m glad to hear you laugh, miss,” Bessie said. “ ’Tis your wedding day, after all, and you seem far too sad about it.” She gave Margaret a sunny smile. “This is the beginning of brighter days, is it not? The mourning has turned to singing.”

Margaret sighed, twisting the handkerchief tighter, wishing she had Bessie’s simple optimism.

The carriage came to a stop. Dozens of carriages lined the street, evidence of the number of people who had come to the ceremony. Lord Somerville stood waiting at the church door. He helped Margaret descend from the carriage. Behind her, Bessie took hold of the back of
her gown to enable it to flow unhindered behind her as she stepped down.

“Everyone is ready,” Lord Somerville said with a smile. “All that is needed is the bride.”

Suddenly, Margaret had a wild urge to flee, to climb back into the carriage and ride off as swiftly as she could. Why could she not settle in her heart that she was doing the right thing?

Lord Somerville patted her hand, which she realized was gripping his arm tightly. “Don’t worry, Miss Vaughn; it’s natural to get jitters on your wedding day. I will tell you quite confidentially that Tom has been unable to speak a coherent word all morning.”

He was trying to set her at ease, but his words only added to Margaret’s qualms. Was Tom having regrets? It still seemed unreal to Margaret that they were all here, that this wedding was going forward. But as Lord Somerville began to lead her toward the church door, she had to face the fact that this was indeed very real. Taking a deep breath, Margaret tried to relax the worry wrinkles in her forehead, but that did nothing to ease her inner trepidation.

Lord Somerville’s keen dark eyes were watching her with compassion. “
Believe
that the Lord has brought you to this day, Margaret. Put your trust in Him.”

Believe. Trust.

It was a large thing to ask of a God she knew little about.

*

Tom stood at the altar, listening as the church bells struck the hour. He was astounded at the number of people here.
The law required that all weddings be open for anyone who wished to attend, and clearly there were plenty who wanted to see this one. Ushers had carefully weeded out the crowd, allowing invited guests to sit in the front pews while the mere onlookers sat or stood in the back.

Tom was too nervous to look at the congregation directly. He kept his eyes fixed on the altar, with occasional glances at the clergyman standing placidly in front of him. Once or twice Tom had looked toward the wide church door at the opposite end of the church, searching for Margaret. This had been a useless endeavor, as his vision was blocked by a sea of bonnets and top hats. On the clergyman’s right side stood Margaret’s bridesmaid, Miss Lucinda Cardington. She tried to bolster Tom with an encouraging smile, but her cheeks were awash with red and the bouquet she held was trembling.

Only James looked perfectly at ease, not at all concerned that hundreds of eyes were fastened on them. “Let’s hope the bride arrives on time,” he said as the final stroke of the bell vibrated through the church. “I’m famished, and I want to get to that wedding breakfast.”

“Is that all you can think about?” Tom asked. “The food?”

“Well, the champagne is on my mind, too, of course,” he said with a wink. “But that goes without saying.”

Lucinda gave a small gasp at this remark, but Tom wasn’t surprised. He knew James would always find something humorous to say, no matter what the situation.

The soft murmurs of the crowd began to fade, replaced by a rustling as everyone stood up. Margaret and Geoffrey must be making their entrance. Tom held his breath, waiting for the first glimpse of his bride.

And there she was. The worries that had besieged Tom all morning fell away as he stared at her in wonder. Her silvery dress was decorated at the throat and waist with orange blossoms, as was the wreath of flowers in her hair.

His heart stuttered as he watched her walk up the aisle on Geoffrey’s arm, moving in solemn, measured strides with that elegant grace of hers. A veil of sheer lace cascaded down the length of her back, fluttering as she walked. She looked straight ahead, as though unaware of the hundreds of people crowding both sides of the aisle. Her face was unmoving, like a fine marble statue. She was regal, unearthly. A vision of beauty. And very soon, she would be his. It was a sacred trust that he would honor with all that was in him.

The knot in his throat made him wish his valet had not tied his cravat so tightly.
Dear Lord,
he thought, overcome with the magnitude of his joy.
Dear Lord.

“She is lovely, isn’t she?” James whispered. “Congratulations, old man.”

At last, Margaret and Geoffrey reached the altar. Tom fancied that he could smell the tart scent of the orange blossoms decorating her hair and dress. She stood, perfectly poised, not quite meeting his gaze.

The minister motioned for the guests to sit down. Once the rustling had ceased, he began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted of God…”

As the minister continued in slow, measured tones, Tom stole a glance at Margaret. Her face, still perfectly
composed, gave no indication of what she was thinking. Did she love him? Sadly, Tom knew the answer to that question already. But
could
she love him? Would she grow to love him in time?

“It is not to be taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.”

Tom believed these words. He believed them with his whole heart. And he would keep praying that his own reverence for God would someday grow to be hers as well.
Lord, I will love her, protect and cherish her. Please allow her heart to open, and cause her love to grow.

With this prayer, peace settled upon him. His restless anticipation had not left him, but the worry had. This marriage—and all that would come—was in the Lord’s hands now.

*

Margaret kept her gaze fixed on a spot just beyond the minister’s left shoulder. She feared that if she looked at Tom, all her uncertainties would burst forth and bring her, trembling, to collapse.