Chapter Eleven #2
“I’d keep yours simple with a gauze overdress instead of lace, with just a few touches of embroidery. For the wedding I’d make a small train, not so long that you’ll need a string of bridesmaids to carry it, but it’ll look elegant, and it can be removed later by your maid.”
Tessa thought about it. It might be a small wedding, but though she’d prefer a simple dress, she knew Lady Gosforth was champing at the bit, fretting about what she was already calling a “hole in the corner” wedding.
“I think the violet silk and the gauze would be perfect,” she said.
“My betrothed’s aunt”—she nodded toward the waiting room and lowered her voice—“is very concerned that I look my best.” Really, she was hoping Tessa wouldn’t disgrace them all.
Miss Chance snorted. “Leave it to me, Lady Hewitt. You’re gunna look like a princess—and it won’t be too fussy, I promise. I can see you prefer a certain degree of simplicity.”
Tessa just beamed at her, delighted to be so well understood.
A short time later, Bragge poked her head through the curtains and said, “Lady Gosforth has decided to go home.”
“Oh, dear,” Tessa exclaimed. They were nowhere near finished.
“It’s all right,” Bragge assured her. “I’m to go with her, then the carriage will bring me back and I’ll stay with you until you’re finished.”
“Is she very cross with me?” Tessa ventured.
Bragge shook her head. “Bored, more like. Don’t worry, she’ll visit some of her cronies and they’ll talk about the way the younger generation ignores older and wiser heads.” She winked. “It’s one of her favorite topics of conversation—her friends’ too.”
Tessa wasn’t sure. It was one thing to assert her independence, and quite another to offend an old lady who’d taken her under her wing, quite against her own inclination. She would have gone out to the reception area, and spoken to Lady Gosforth herself, except that she was in her underclothes.
Bragge added softly, “If you ask me, m’lady, she’s quite pleased by your show of spirit. Not that she’d ever admit it, but a little opposition refreshes her wonderfully.”
Miss Chance chuckled. “I know a few old ladies like that. Me husband and I live with one.”
Bragge smiled and withdrew, promising to return shortly, and Miss Chance briskly returned to the business of planning a trousseau fit for the bride of an earl.
As well as morning gowns, walking dresses, evening gowns, traveling clothes, pelisses and spencers, there were underclothes, corsets specially designed to create the right flow of the dresses, nightgowns and more.
“I won’t need half of these,” Tessa protested.
Miss Chance just chuckled. “Most of these won’t be ready in three weeks,” she told Tessa. “But we’ll do our best to get you gorgeous for your wedding and honeymoon, and then when you return, the rest will be ready for a final fitting.”
Her honeymoon? Tessa hadn’t given it a thought. She’d never had a proper honeymoon. After both her weddings, she’d been taken directly to her husbands’ homes and there she’d remained for the duration of the marriage.
Would Marcus do the same? Take her directly to Alverleigh? She would have to discuss it with him. She had no objection to living at Alverleigh—though it would be very hard to look across to Ferndale and know that strangers lived there now—but she would like to see a little of the world first.
#
“YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT the weather clearing up,” Tessa commented.
Marcus nodded. It had been drizzling lightly when he’d called that morning to take her riding. He’d almost called it off, except that he was pretty sure the rain would stop before they were even out of the city. And so it had.
He’d taken her riding whenever he could, Hampstead Heath when he had no parliamentary or business engagements, and Hyde Park when he did.
Mornings suited them both, particularly since his aunt had returned to her old habit of rarely rising before noon. It gave them time alone, and he was pleased to see that the regular outings were having an effect on Tessa, relaxing her, and enabling easier conversation between them.
He no longer had to rack his brains for things to say—with Tessa it all seemed to come naturally.
Even when there were periods of silence, they were not those uncomfortable silences he dreaded, and were usually broken by something inconsequential, like her pointing out a bird or a cheeky red squirrel.
He was comfortable with her, and she seemed the same with him. It boded well for their future
“I gather you’ve been doing quite a bit of shopping,” he said.
She gave a guilty start. “Yes, I’m afraid it’s going to be quite expensive. I haven’t yet bought shoes or hats or shawls or. . . other things your aunt considers vital.”
He shrugged. “Don’t give it a thought. Buy whatever you like. I just hope Aunt Maude isn’t bullying you.” He sent her a sideways glance and was surprised to see a glimmer of a smile on her lips. “She isn’t, is she?”
Tessa shook her head. “Not at all. But I’m afraid . . .”
“I’m afraid?” he prompted.
She took a deep breath. “She’s finding me a bit of a handful.”
“Is she indeed?” He tried not to smile.
“Yes. I refused to go to her own dressmaker.”
“Understandable. You want something in a different style I suppose.” He’d never shown much interest in feminine fashions, nor male ones either. His valet kept him sufficiently informed of what was appropriate for gentlemen.
She cocked her head and looked at him with a curious expression. “You don’t mind?”
He laughed softly. “When you get to know my aunt better you will learn that a little opposition stimulates her. My brothers, especially Gabe and Harry make an art of it. She grumbles about it, but secretly it delights her. You’ll see when you meet them.”
She started and swiveled in the saddle. “They’re coming, your brothers? But I thought Gabriel lived in Zindaria.”
“He does, and he was very cross that he would miss my wedding. I’m the last single brother, you see. Head of the family.” He grimaced. It couldn’t be helped. There was simply not enough time for Gabe and Callie to make the trip in time for the wedding.
Marcus had worked hard at repairing the rifts in the family caused by his parents’ quarrels—and by his own actions too, he had to admit. He was still deeply ashamed of the way he and Nash had treated Harry and Gabe when they were schoolboys.
“My other brother, Nash, won’t be coming either.
He and his wife and the children live in Russia, in St. Petersburg, and the journey would take weeks, if not months, depending on the weather, so they wouldn’t make it in time.
He’s a diplomat.” He glanced at her and added, “But if there is anyone you’d like to come to the wedding, make sure you tell Aunt Maude. ”
There was a short silence, then, “There’s no-one,” she said bleakly.
There was a short silence then Marcus said, “You don’t mind that your brother won’t be there?”
“No, of course not! It’s a great relief to me that he hasn’t shown any interest in me since I left his house. Of course, he wouldn’t if he’s gone to America.” She glanced at him. “I know it sounds unnatural, a sister speaking so of her only brother—”
“Not unnatural at all. He treated you appallingly.” Once again, Marcus wondered whether he should tell her about the role he had played in Edgar’s removal from her life. He should, he knew, but though her brother had treated her badly and exploited her shamelessly, he wasn’t sure how she’d react.
They rode on in silence until, Tessa silent and thoughtful. He wondered what she was thinking about. Life without Edgar?
As they approached the edge of the heath, she said, “I wish Louis, my other brother had lived. He died at Waterloo.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I knew him—both your brothers—very slightly at school, and the general consensus was that Louis was a good fellow.” And Edgar one of the worst.
She nodded, her lips compressed as if holding back emotion, but the minute they reached the heath proper, she said, “Race you to that old oak,” and took off.
After a while, playing “catch me if you can” on horseback, their mounts were tiring, and they turned back, slowing to a walk.
“Thank you for sparing the time to take me riding,” she said after a while. “I cannot tell you what it means to me. And I know how busy you must be.”
“Not at all,” Marcus assured her. For the first time in his life, he’d delegated much of his business—and even some parliamentary matters, when that was possible—to his very efficient secretary, who was delighted to be given more responsibility.
Marcus didn’t even feel guilty about it.
After all, he was getting married in a few weeks, and he’d be off on his honeymoon after that.
Which reminded him. “By the way, have you thought about where you’d like to go on our honeymoon? ” he asked her.
She blinked and looked at him in surprise. “Honeymoon? You’re asking me?”
“Yes. Anywhere you’d particularly like to go?”
She gave him a long look then nodded. “Belgium.” It burst out of her.
“Belgium?” he repeated, bemused. “Do you mean France? Paris?” People had been flocking to Paris since Napoleon’s final defeat.
“No, Belgium. Waterloo, in fact. I would like to visit Waterloo.”
“You mean the site of the battle?” It was a strange choice for a honeymoon.
She nodded. “I would like to visit my brother’s grave. Louis’s grave. But I suppose it’s not possible.”
“I see.” Marcus nodded, keeping his doubts to himself.
Most of the Waterloo graves were unmarked and likely to be invisible by now.
Some wealthy English families had had their sons’ bodies shipped home, to be buried in the family graveyard or crypt, but clearly Edgar hadn’t bothered with the expense.
If he had, she would surely know. Louis Blaxland had likely been buried along with the thousands of undistinguished dead.
Should he tell her that now or wait? Wait, he decided.