Mary Jo Putney (24 page)

T
oday is my wedding day.
Sarah’s fingers were shaking so badly that she couldn’t get the wires of her earrings into her ears.

“I’ll take care of your earrings, my lady,” Francie said in a soothing voice.

“I’m not ‘my lady’ yet,” Sarah pointed out as she gratefully handed the golden hoops to her maid.

“It won’t hurt me to practice so I’ll be ready when you become the countess.” Francie deftly inserted the wires in Sarah’s ears. Tiny gold spirals hung from the main hoops and they captured the light whenever Sarah’s head moved. The gold emphasized her golden underskirt and lace. Her face might look like a wax work death mask, but at least she glittered.

“Sister Sarah, you look so stunning that Rob will keel over when he sees you coming down the aisle.” Mariah, lovely in a pale peach gown, entered the bedroom. She was trying to look understated so as not to draw attention from the bride, but Mariah couldn’t help but look beautiful. Sarah didn’t mind.

“Give the credit to your duchess gown.” She hugged her sister, then Bree, who was following. Rob’s daughter looked excited but demure in her white gown with gold lace trim. It was hard to remember the ragged urchin who’d been delivered to the castle.

“You both look marvelous!” Sarah exclaimed. “Are you prepared to fight off any abduction attempts on me? Lady Kellington said that was the original purpose of bridal attendants. To protect the bride from being stolen away.”

“I’ll fight for you!” Bree said, looking more like the fierce urchin she’d been.

“I’ll help defend you, too,” Francie offered, eyes twinkling.

“Let’s skip that part since you actually were abducted not so very long ago,” Mariah said with a shudder. “Are you ready? It’s time to leave for the church.”

“I’m in a flat panic.” Sarah dabbed on the daytime perfume sent by her friend Lady Kiri, who was Adam’s sister and a brilliant perfumer. “Otherwise all is well.”

“It’s normal to feel nervous.” Like Francie, Mariah was using the soothing voice designed to keep anxious brides from strong hysterics.

“I don’t recall you being this nervous,” Sarah said as she stepped into her slippers. The gold kid and crystal beads looked like fairy footwear, and she liked the two inches of height she gained.

“I was marrying Adam, so of course I wasn’t nervous.” A furrow formed between Mariah’s eyes. “Are you having doubts about marrying Rob? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Sarah made herself think seriously about Mariah’s question. Yes, she was panicked, but Rob was the most interesting man she’d ever met as well as the most attractive. Together, God willing, they could rebuild Kellington and have fine, handsome children. She hoped any offspring would get Rob’s height, not hers. “Rob is excellent husband material. I’m just . . . nervous. As you say, that’s common.”

“Here’s your hat, Sarah.” Bree opened the hatbox she’d brought and reverently lifted out the redesigned hat.

“Oh, Bree, your embroidery is exquisite!” Sarah traced the finely stitched blossoms with one fingertip. “Did you have to work late every night to get this done?”

Bree nodded, but her eyes were shining. Sarah had a brief mental image of the girl someday wearing the hat to her own wedding.

She turned to the mirror and set the hat on her sleek blond hair. The band of embroidery secured the creamy lace of Lady Kellington’s veil, which swept over the crown to fall back past Sarah’s shoulders. Now she looked like a bride, not a duchess.

Francie tweaked the position of the hat. “Last of all, a bit of color.” She wielded a hare’s foot to brush a hint of pink onto Sarah’s cheeks. “And this lip salve.” The salve was also colored pink.

Francie’s deft application of cosmetics made Sarah look natural and healthy rather than like death walking. Sarah said in a less than steady voice, “I look as good as I’m going to, so it’s time to get married.”

Bree led the procession down the stairs and out the front door to the waiting flower-bedecked carriage. Sarah’s parents and uncle and the dowager countess had left earlier in another coach. Most of the servants were already at the church as well. Two or three had stayed behind so the house wouldn’t be completely empty.

Hector himself helped the four females into the coach, a slight but actual smile on his face. When they were settled and on their way, Sarah said, “When we get there, remind me which one is Rob. We’ve both been so busy I’ve hardly seen him in days.”

Mariah patted her hand. “That’s why you’re so nervous. You’d feel better if you’d spent more time together. But you’ve used these days well. The master suite is splendid, and even that dull little study is much improved.”

All true. The new housekeeper was a gem, and the people of Kellington were excited and optimistic about the future. It had been easy to hire extra help from the village to clean and rearrange. The castle was starting to look like a home.

All too soon they arrived at the church. Sarah felt numb when she climbed from the carriage. Francie was carrying the flowers in a basket, so she produced Sarah’s nosegay. “Here you are, my lady. Those bright yellow daffs are as pretty as sunshine.”

As Francie gave flowers to Mariah and Bree, Mariah said, “Don’t hold the flowers so high, Sarah. Keep them at waist level. Now onward, favorite sister!”

“I’m your only sister,” Sarah pointed out as she lowered the nosegay to her waist.

“So you have no reason to doubt you’re the favorite!”

The footman opened the church door for the bridal party, and rich organ music poured out. Uncle Peter waited in the vestibule. He beamed at Sarah as she entered. “Aren’t you the prettiest sight!” He held out his arm. In a lower voice, he said, “I’m so glad I’ve had you as a daughter even though you weren’t.”

His words almost started her crying. Taking his arm, Sarah said, “You were all the father I needed.”

At that, he looked teary as well. While they talked, Francie lined up Bree and Mariah, then cracked the door to the sanctuary. “All is in order,” she whispered. “Miss Bree, you first. Remember to walk slowly so everyone can admire how pretty you look.”

Expression determined, Bree clutched her nosegay at waist level while Francie signaled the organist to start the processional music. Mrs. Holt performed an expert transition that moved into a solemn march.

Francie swung the door all the way open and Bree stepped out into the aisle. Her head was high and she seemed nervous but happy.

Then Mariah, looking serene and lovely, and probably confusing anyone who didn’t know Sarah had a twin.

“Your turn, pet,” Uncle Peter murmured. “He’s a fine man. You’ve chosen well.”

Had Sarah really chosen Rob? Or was this a marriage of convenience and proximity? Frantically reminding herself to carry the nosegay low, she stepped through the door into the sanctuary, glad she had her uncle to steady her. The church was full to overflowing, and there was an audible gasp of admiration when she appeared. Mariah’s duchess gown was doing the job.

Sarah’s gaze locked on Rob, who stood in front of the altar with Adam beside him. Her breathing was swift and shallow as her uncle escorted her down, then stepped back to sit beside Sarah’s parents.

Rob was all lean, broad-shouldered strength. But as she approached, he looked cold, so cold. His handsome features were still as marble and his clear light eyes were ice. Could he be regretting this marriage?

Even if he did, he was too honorable to walk away. If anyone was to stop this ceremony, it would have to be Sarah.

“Dearly beloved,”
the vicar intoned, beginning the familiar service in a rich, deep voice,
“we are gathered together here . . .”

If Sarah didn’t marry him, what would her life be like? Living with her parents in the far, cold north? Becoming a permanent spinster aunt in her sister’s home? Live at Babcock Hall as a spinster cousin?

While her chaotic thoughts stampeded through her mind, the vicar continued through the service. She was dimly aware when Rob expressed his willingness to have her as his wedded wife with a firm, clear, “I will.”

Then Mr. Holt turned to Sarah. The words floated past her until he said,
“. . . forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”

As long as you both shall live!
Sarah sucked in her breath. The words sounded as final and deadly as a falling guillotine blade. Her gaze flashed up to Rob’s face. His expression was intense, unreadable.

She was ready to bolt when he took her right hand, raised it to his lips, and brushed the lightest of kisses across the back of her gloved fingers. His gaze held hers, and with a jolt she recognized that he was nervous, too. Did he know how close she was to leaving him at the altar? Probably; the damned man was entirely too perceptive.

Memories flooded her mind. So many memories for such a few weeks. He’d saved her and protected her, warmed her by night, and laughed with her by day. With his new rank, now he needed her help. They might not love the way Mariah and Adam did, but together they were stronger than they were separately. Surely that would be enough.

Her silence had lasted so long that people were starting to shift in their seats. She squeezed Rob’s hand and gave him a tremulous smile. “I will.”

He smiled back with a warmth that started to dissipate the chill in her bones. The rest of the service passed in a blur. She became aware when Rob slid a plain gold band on her third finger, left hand.

“What God hath joined, let no man put asunder!”
made her flinch again. It sounded so very, very permanent.

Because it was. Divorce was virtually impossible, so these vows they took today would bind them for as long as they both lived.

Too late to worry now. The vicar pronounced them man and wife, and the organ filled the church with a river of joyous music. Holding Sarah’s hand firmly, Rob turned them and led her up the aisle and onto the porch as the organ music was joined by the jubilation of the church bells ringing with a force that saturated all Kellington.

On the porch, she said apologetically, “I’m so glad that’s over!”

His smile was full of relief. “So am I.”

Within moments, they were surrounded by well-wishers offering congratulations as the whole community celebrated. Their marriage was a pledge to the future.

Her mother’s hug came with happy tears while her father beamed with pride. Jonas shook Rob’s hand with the approval of a long-married man, and Father Patrick gave both of them exuberant hugs and Catholic blessings. Mr. Crowell and Miss Hunt stood side by side, discreetly holding hands. There were faces she recognized from riding the estate with Rob, though she couldn’t put a name to them.

And—Lord Kirkland? One of Rob’s close friends and partners in covert missions. He looked travel weary, as if he’d just arrived, but he bowed graciously when her gaze caught his.

Now that she was officially a wife—and Countess of Kellington!—there was no going back. So she might as well enjoy the celebrations!

R
ob felt a rush of relief when the wedding service was over and Sarah was officially his wife. She’d looked shatteringly beautiful when she entered the church in a swirl of ivory and gold like an angel come to earth. But the nearer she drew, the more terrified she looked. Surely he’d given her no reason to be afraid of him?

There had been one truly dreadful moment during the ceremony when he was sure she was going to pivot and bolt up the aisle, flowers flying. Then he realized how natural her nerves were. When he’d proposed to Bryony at eighteen, he had no real understanding of the enormous, life-changing commitment he was making. Neither had Bryony. All they’d known was that they’d wanted to be together.

This time he had a much better understanding of how profound and life changing marriage was. But unlike Sarah, he wasn’t terrified. Sobered by the vows he was taking, yes, but he had no doubts. He and Sarah would suit very well.

As they greeted people on the porch of the church, she seemed to have recovered completely from her attack of nerves. After the last person had offered good wishes, he wrapped an arm around Sarah’s waist and tucked her close to his side. “Even with the extra inches of those charming slippers, you’re just a little bit of a thing,” he said fondly.

She looked up at him with a laugh, golden tendrils of hair curling from under her festive hat. “Perhaps the trouble is that you’re too tall.”

She looked so alluring that he couldn’t resist bending to give her a kiss. She responded with enthusiasm, which provoked a chorus of cheers and hoots from the viewers. There was nothing like a wedding to put people in a jolly mood.

She emerged from the kiss flushed and laughing. “Time to return to the castle. I couldn’t swallow anything more than tea this morning, and now I’m ravenous.”

“I suspect that the wedding feast the Ashtons have organized has enough food to provide for the whole of Somerset. Shall we find out?”

She took his arm and they climbed into the open, lavishly decorated carriage waiting to carry them up to the castle. By prearrangement, inside the carriage was a sizable bag of shiny new sixpences. Rob stayed on his feet and called, “Thank you for joining our celebration!”

Then he tossed handfuls of glittering coins high in the air to shower down into eagerly waiting hands. Tomorrow he’d feel poor again, but at least this wedding was happening in proper style, thanks to their friends.

He settled beside Sarah and gave orders to the driver to head up to the castle, then handed her the last bright sixpence. “For luck, my lady.”

She smiled and flirtatiously tucked the coin into her bodice. His gaze followed, riveted, as the sixpence slipped into the shadowed area between her breasts. “I shall have to locate that coin later,” he said, his mouth going dry.

“It’s interesting that after a lifetime of being told to behave modestly, I now have license to be bold with my husband.” She pulled up the ivory silk skirt of her gown to reveal a shapely leg and a beribboned garter holding up her silk stocking. As she fiddled with the garter, she gave him a slanting, mischievous glance.

The carriage was high enough that only Rob could see her—but what he saw made him want to forget the feast and go direct to their bedroom. He swallowed hard. “That’s more than bold,” he said. “It’s downright provocative.”

She smoothed the skirt down demurely. “Then I shall resume maidenly modesty.”

“Everything you do is provocative. Even that perfume you’re wearing. It’s delicate and floral, but with a hint of spice. One of Lady Kiri’s concoctions?”

Sarah nodded. “She gave me two versions. One to wear in the day.” She gave a slow, sultry smile. “The other for the night.”

He laughed, caught between frustration and amusement. More than either of those things, he was intensely glad they were back on their usual friendly footing. “I do believe you’re trying to drive me mad. I’m considering kidnapping and ravishment.”

“No ravishing till after I eat,” she said pragmatically. “Think how unromantic it would be if I fainted from hunger!”

Their teasing took them all the way to the castle grounds, where they alighted in the middle of canvas pavilions and music and roasting food. Barrels of ale and tables covered with platters were everywhere. There was already dancing in the courtyard.

“Ashton doesn’t stint when he sponsors a feast,” Sarah observed.

“It’s very convenient to have a generous duke as a friend,” Rob agreed. “Which do you prefer first, eating or dancing?”

“Eating,” she said firmly. “So I’ll have more energy to dance.”

He escorted her to the pavilion closest to the castle, which was designated for family and gentry guests. After they’d rebuilt their strength with some of the excellent food, they danced one country reel together. Rob wasn’t much of a dancer, but reels were simple and Sarah was skilled enough for both of them.

Then they turned to their duty as hosts and took other partners. Rob danced with Mariah, Anna, and Bree, who was bursting with pride at being his partner. He even tried to coax his grandmother out. She refused, but couldn’t seem to stop herself from smiling. He hardly recognized her.

Sarah was dancing with laughter and an endurance that would have surprised anyone who hadn’t ridden across Ireland with her. He moved to the side of the crowd to observe. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Sarah was becoming the heart and soul of Kellington, he realized. Rob had the title and the bloodlines, but her warm charm and optimism were giving people hope for the future.

He was a lucky, lucky man.

 

 

After several dances in succession, Sarah stopped to catch her breath. Her slippers would never be the same, not after all this dancing. She’d retire the slippers to the back of her wardrobe and take them out sometimes to sigh over happily.

She was looking around for Rob when an attractive dark-haired woman in her early thirties approached. “We weren’t properly introduced, Lady Kellington. I’m Helen Broome, wife of the vicar of St. Dunstan’s in Bendan. Thanks so much for inviting us.”

Sarah smiled. “Thanks should go to the dowager countess, since she told us who to invite from the local area. It included all the vicars for miles around.”

“It’s the advantage of marrying a vicar,” Helen said drolly. “We may live modestly in drafty vicarages, but we do get invited to all the best local parties.”

“I’m glad you could come.” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t Bendan where Bree, my husband’s daughter, used to live?” It was the first time she’d said “my husband,” and it was a strange sensation. She had a
husband
!

“Yes, Bree was born and raised in the village. She and my younger daughter were great friends.” Helen gestured toward a group of men standing by the stables. “My husband is over there. The tall fellow in clerical black and wearing spectacles.”

Mr. Broome looked very nice. “When we’re settled, I hope you’ll dine with us.”

Helen smiled and said they’d be delighted. She was someone who could become a friend, and she could also provide useful information. “Bree’s birthday will be in several weeks,” Sarah said. “I thought we could hold a birthday party for her that would include her friends from Bendan. Does that make sense, or do you think two years at her age is so long that the girls in your village will have forgotten her?”

“Alice would love to see her, and several other girls were particular friends. Bree was very popular. What did you have in mind? It’s a bit of a distance.”

“I’d like to hold the party here. We’d send a coach to collect the girls, of course.”

Helen’s eyes brightened. “That would be splendid! I volunteer to travel along as a chaperone. I’d love to see more of Kellington Castle.”

Bree skipped up, her hat missing and her dark hair spilling down her back. “Mrs. Broome! It’s me, Bree! Is Alice here?”

“No, but I’m so happy to see you!” Helen gave her a swift hug. “I’ll tell Alice that I saw you, and you’re looking very fine. Your stepmother was just telling me about your birthday party.”

Bree looked surprised but interested. “I’m having a birthday party?”

“We haven’t had time to talk about it with the wedding,” Sarah explained. “But I thought we could invite some of your old friends from Bendan and some of your new friends from here. Would you like that?”

Bree’s eyes widened like saucers. “Can Alice come?”

“Of course,” Sarah said.

Bree bounced, looking less like a young lady and more like a happy urchin. “Can we have the party in the ruins of the old castle? It’s bloody picturesque!”

Sarah blinked. “Language, Bree. But yes, if the weather permits, we could have a picnic there.”

Bree looked ready to burst with excitement. “Thank you!” Then she spotted one of the Holt girls and buzzed off to tell her the news.

“She’s looking very well,” Helen observed as both women watched the girl dart across the courtyard. “I was worried for her after her mother died.”

“Her grandfather was a dreadful old man,” Sarah said. “He just dumped her here and left. Rob had no idea Bree existed. But he was delighted, of course.” Sarah didn’t feel she could ask outright about Bryony, but she was curious. “She seems a happy, healthy girl. That speaks well for her mother.”

From the twinkle in Helen’s eyes, she understood the curiosity. “Bryony was a very devoted mother. I presume Lord Kellington gave her money to stay away. Probably not a huge amount, but she managed it well enough to give herself and her daughter a comfortable life. She was beautiful—Bree looks just like her. She could have married, but she liked her independence.”

“How did she die?”

“A fever of some sort.” Helen sighed. “It was very quick. One day she was striding over the cliffs with her hair blowing straight out in the wind, and three days later she was gone.”

Sarah bit her lip. “Poor Bree. So horrible for her.”

“Yes, but she survived two years with her grandfather, apart from some damage to her language, and now she’s here. She’s fortunate.”

Many children weren’t. But Bree was happy now. Sarah vowed to do her best to see that she stayed that way.

Rob began working his way through the crowd, greeting acquaintances and introducing himself to guests he didn’t know. He was thinking of finding Sarah for another dance when an unexpected old friend found him. Dark and enigmatic, Lord Kirkland was a former Westerfield classmate, wealthy shipping merchant, and spymaster.

Delighted, Rob offered his hand. “Kirkland! I thought I saw you in the distance, but decided I imagined it.”

Kirkland shook his hand. “Congratulations, Rob. She’ll make you an admirable countess.”

Rob’s instincts went on full alert. “Why do I think this visit is nothing as simple as coming to the wedding?”

“It was a surprise to arrive just as the wedding was beginning,” Kirkland admitted. “Despite my reputation, I don’t always know everything.”

Rob’s exhilaration vanished in a finger snap. This was Kirkland, the stormy petrel whose arrival signaled trouble. “Shall we retire to my ugly but private study?”

“Yes, but I’d like to collect Ashton. He’ll want to hear this, too.”

Which meant Kirkland’s visit had something to do with Ireland and attempted abductions of duchesses. As Rob scanned the crowd for the duke, Kirkland asked, “Is the Catholic priest from this area?”

“No, he’s one of my Irish cousins. We played together as boys.” Rob glanced at his friend. “Do you want to interrogate him?”

“Later, perhaps,” Kirkland said imperturbably. “Look, there’s Ashton.”

Rob signaled for the duke to join them, then guided his guests to the house. When Kirkland entered the study, he remarked, “I wouldn’t call this ugly.”

Rob stopped, surprised, on the threshold. The study had been transformed. The walls were whitewashed and attractive draperies replaced the dismal ones that blocked the light. Pleasant landscape paintings graced the walls, and a set of bookcases had been arranged behind the desk and stocked with books and interesting curios. Comfortable chairs had replaced the old ones, too.

“Sarah.” Rob smiled as he turned, taking in all the changes. “She must have done this as a surprise.” He gestured for the other men to sit. “What’s the bad news?”

“The fact that you won’t be working with me anymore is bad from my point of view, but probably good from yours.” Kirkland frowned. “I’m sure you’ve considered that the attempted abduction of the Duchess of Ashton was political.”

Ashton nodded. “I’ve not heard of the group Free Eire, but I gather they’re radicals who want England out of Ireland. Kidnapping a duchess could be considered a blow against the aristocracy, though I’m not sure why they’d go after Mariah. I don’t own a square inch of land in Ireland.”

“They’d not be averse to a large ransom,” Rob said dryly. “The fact that your estate is in Wiltshire and easier to reach than other duchies might be why you were targeted. Do you have more information, Kirkland?”