Chapter Thirteen #2
“Last month, when she summoned me. Yes, summoned, that’s the word. Sent a footman around to my lodgings. Before breakfast! Dashed if I know how she discovered my direction. Might have to move. Though my landlady does make an exceptionally good breakfast.”
“Hang your landlady and her breakfasts. What did Aunt Maude want?”
Barney rolled his eyes. “I already told you. I knew you weren’t listening.”
“Hang it all, Barney, I’m waiting for my bride to arrive. Of course I wasn’t listening. So what did she want?”
“For me to scotch the rumors about you and Lady Hewitt.”
“What?”
“I told her I hadn’t heard any rumors, but she insisted. Tried to tell her, too, that denying them would only stir things up, but would she listen?” He snorted.
Marcus’s fingers clenched into fists. So that was it. The cunning old witch. He’d thought there was something off about those rumors. And there was definitely something fishy about his aunt’s supposed opposition to his marriage. He’d walked right into her trap. Galloped, more like.
But he wasn’t the one who’d been trapped.
It was Tessa.
He’d wanted to marry her even before the rumors. But she hadn’t wanted to marry anyone. His aunt had convinced her she had to, in order to protect his good name. His honor.
“Damn you, Barney, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
His friend shrugged. “Never had the opportunity. Why? Does it matter? It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
Does it matter? His fists tightened. He thrust them into his pockets and turned away.
He would have to tell her. Now. Today. Before the ceremony began. Tell her the truth. Let her make her own decision—free and clear of his aunt’s blasted trap—without any nonsense about rumors or scandal or honor hanging over her.
A chance to choose to marry or not. For the first time in her life.
The organ played a chord. He whirled and there she was, standing hesitantly in the doorway of the church, a vision of loveliness. She looked down the aisle at him, and gave him a small, shy smile.
He found himself smiling back and her whole face brightened.
Her attendants came forward, fussing around her and in that split second he made up his mind. He wasn’t going to tell her. Not now. Not until they were married.
It was dishonorable of him, but he was going to do it regardless.
#
TESSA TOOK A DEEP brEATH end stepped inside.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the relative gloom inside the church.
As expected, there was a scattering of people already inside, most of whom were unknown to her.
Her gaze was drawn to the sight of Marcus, standing at the altar, waiting for her.
He looked tall and stern and magnificent and grim in formal black and white with a silver and gray embroidered waistcoat that she knew would match his eyes.
She blinked, seeing that beside him stood his friend Mr. Wimple. He had a best man? And yet he had refused to allow his aunt be Tessa’s matron of honor, or give her away? Oh well, what did it matter?
She took another breath, ready to march down the aisle alone, when a low cough and a movement on her left attracted her attention. She turned, and gasped.
“NannyJune?” Tessa’s eyes blurred as, beaming, her beloved old nanny came forward and embraced her. And behind her stood . . .
“Phillips? Is it really you?”
Grinning, the dear man who’d taught her to ride stepped forward and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. “There there, lass, don’t take on.” It was so very like him that it only sent more tears running down her cheeks.
Phillips drew a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket, shook it out and handed it to NannyJune, who blotted Tessa’s cheeks, saying, “Now come along, child, his lordship is waiting.”
Tessa glanced at Marcus, waiting by the altar. His posture was as stiff as ever, but he seemed to be smiling too. “How did you know? How did you get here?” she asked the two dearest people from her childhood. They’d been more like parents than her real parents.
“His lordship arranged it all.” Phillips said. “Arranged everything, even sent his own carriage to bring us up to London.”
“And ordered us new clothes,” NannyJune added proudly. And now that Tessa could see again, she saw that they were both dressed in smart new clothes. NannyJune was wearing a new, smart version of her favorite old hat with the faded pink silk roses.
“Now come along, lass,” Phillips said. “Let’s get you married.” He presented his arm, and when Tessa looked at him in surprise, he added, “It’s all arranged. I’m givin’ the bride away, and June here is your matron of honor.”
“Bridesmaid,” NannyJune corrected him. “I never did marry, you know.” She adjusted the fall of the Tessa’s gauze overdress.
Somewhere an organ began to play and, half-blinded again by tears, Tessa was led by her old groom and nanny down the aisle towards the dear, dear man who’d given her such a gift to make this quiet little wedding so special for her.
Phillips handed her over to Marcus, Nanny June fussed a little, arranging her dress, and then stepped back. The minister began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here . . .”
Tessa barely heard the service, her heart was so full, but she managed to make her responses in the correct manner.
When it came to the part about ‘let any man speak’ she felt him tense, but nobody spoke.
And when Marcus slipped the ring on her finger, she felt no despair, as she had in her previous weddings, only a sense of relief.
And when they were declared man and wife, more tears threatened, but were overwhelmed by a surfeit of happiness.
On the way out, she saw that the church was not quite as empty of people she knew as she’d thought. Flynn and Miss Chance were sitting at the front, in a pew opposite Lady Gosforth, claiming the bride’s side.
And a number of the servants from Alverleigh House had sneaked into the back pews and sat there beaming at her: Bragge, Peverill, Cook and others.
Even young Joey was there, scrubbed to within an inch of his life, dressed in his new clothes and with Billy half hidden in his jacket. He waved the little dog’s paw to her.
She and Marcus stopped to talk briefly to Flynn and Daisy—Marcus invited them back to Alverleigh House for a small, informal wedding breakfast—and the next time she looked, all the servants, and Joey and her dog had vanished.
The wedding breakfast was amazing. Cook had outdone herself.
There was a large raised game pie, several cold roast chickens, a platter of crab patties, two dressed lobsters, a ham shaved to wafer thin slices, several salads, a basket of warm bread rolls, fresh from the oven, two large jellies decorated with whipped cream, an enormous trifle, dishes of strawberries and other fruits and a large elaborately decorated wedding cake.
Champagne fizzed gently in tall, fragile glasses.
And this was what Cook deemed necessary for a small informal wedding breakfast for a handful of people. Tessa wanted to laugh. Cook obviously was in the Lady Gosforth camp when it came to celebrating an earl’s wedding.
She sat with Phillips and NannyJune, who were a little intimidated by being in such a grand house with such grand company.
Marcus sat opposite, tending to his guests, as was proper—Flynn and Daisy on one side and his best man, Mr Wimple, on the other—but glancing at her from time to time with a slightly worried look on his face.
She smiled to reassure him. Everything was perfect.
“But how did Lord Alverleigh know where to find you?” Tessa asked Philips and NannyJune.
They looked at her in surprise. “Didn’t you know? He’s the one that gave us the cottage to live in,” NannyJune told her.
“And the pensions,” Phillips added. “Generous they are, too.”
“Otherwise we’d a’been done for,” NannyJune said darkly. “On the parish, in the workhouse. Your pa left us nothing.” Phillips nodded.
“I’m so sorry.” Shame flooded Tessa, and not for the first time. She’d assumed her father had had second thoughts and done the right thing by these two loyal old family retainers. Who meant more to her than family.
NannyJune patted her hand. “Not your fault, lovie. Your pa didn’t do right by anyone, from what I heard—and you most of all. Marrying you off the way he did when you were still just a child—and to such an old man! Shocking it was.”
“But all behind you now,” Phillips said firmly. “You’ve got a good man there, a good husband. He’ll take good care of you.”
“I know,” Tessa said, looking across the table at the man who seemed so cold and remote to people who didn’t know him, but was capable of such quiet generosity and kindness.
She frowned slightly. He was having some low -voiced conversation with Mr Wimple, and looking quite grim about it. Whatever was that about?
#
“BUT WHY DIDN’T YOU just refuse?” Marcus said in an undervoice. He was keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the other guests.
“Do you even know your aunt?” Barney said indignantly.
“I told you before, she’s a gorgon—turns a fellow to stone with that dratted glass of hers.
Makes you completely helpless. She’s as terrifying now as she was when we were at school.
” He chewed thoughtfully on a chicken leg, then added, “More, actually. She insisted I deny to everyone that you had kidnapped Lady Hewitt from her brother’s house and made her your mistress. ”
“But I didn’t kidnap her and she’s not and never has been my mistress,” Marcus said through gritted teeth.
“I know you didn't,” Barney assured him. “Don’t know the gel—dashed pretty though—but have known you forever. Soul of discretion. Honorable to the back teeth. You’d never do anything so blasted sordid.
Or vulgar. Or illegal.” He added a mound of ham to his plate.
“I say, this breakfast is dashed good. Compliments to your cook. Weddings always give me an appetite. Other people’s that is. ”