Chapter 17
“But no one is supposed to visit me!” The Dowager Duchess’s voice came from her bedchamber, just a room away.
Lewis tore his gaze away from the window, through which he had seen Lady Bridget just moments before. His grandmother had no notion that she had nearly encountered someone who most certainly would cause no small amount of distress. Fortunately, Mrs. Clove had turned the young miss away.
“It is His Grace,” Mrs. Clove said.
“Oh.”
Lewis waited, silently hoping that his grandmother had decided that she had no desire to see him, even if this was a conversation that must be had.
She would inevitably need to meet Lady Bridget, too. Assuming that the young lady would behave. He begrudgingly conceded that it was bold of her to come to the Dowager Duchess’s house in search of answers, but that did not bode well for him. He needed an obedient wife.
“She will see you, Your Grace,” Mrs. Clove said, her words cutting through his thoughts.
“Thank you.”
He reluctantly entered the bedchamber. His grandmother was seated by the window with a book. She always read by the window at this time.
“Tea!” his grandmother exclaimed. “We must have tea.”
“I shall fetch it at once,” Mrs. Clove said.
The woman left, and Lewis sank into a chair near his grandmother. She tapped her fingers on her chair, always five beats. “You were supposed to come yesterday,” she said. “And you did not. Now, you have come today, and something bad will happen.”
“I was occupied with another matter,” Lewis said, “but I can assure you that nothing bad will happen.”
“You cannot know that.”
Lewis fought down his instinctive frustration, as the weight of his own inadequacies fell upon his shoulders. He was too short-tempered to treat his grandmother as she ought to be treated, and he loathed himself for it.
“I do know,” he said calmly. “Nothing bad has ever happened before, and nothing bad will happen this time.”
She sighed and repeated his words in a dull monotone. “Nothing bad has ever happened before, and nothing bad will happen this time.”
“Correct.”
Slowly, his grandmother relaxed in her chair. “I—I do not mind you coming on a different day,” she said. “It is good to see you.”
“I am glad.” He paused, considering her soft expression for a moment. “I would like you to come live with me.”
She inhaled sharply. “No! I cannot. I must stay here. Your house is too big, and there is too much space. There are too many places for intruders to hide.”
“What about the countryside?” he asked. “There are no intruders there, and my country estate is not especially large.”
“No,” she said. “No, there is still too much space there, and everything would be different from here. I need everything to stay just as it is.”
Lewis suspected that his grandmother also wanted him nearby, and given his preference for London, it would be impossible for him to see her often in Yorkshire. “I understand,” Lewis said.
Mrs. Clove returned with tea and biscuits, and Lewis sipped his tea idly, while his grandmother regaled him with bits of news about how she’d spent her day.
She did not say anything of any particular interest to him, for all her days were the same, but her face brightened when she talked about what she had done.
“I do want to explain the reason for my delay,” he said suddenly.
She blinked at him, seemingly taken aback, and Lewis suspected that he had spoken more strongly than he had intended. But he had already thrown the metaphorical gauntlet, so it was best to see the matter through.
“I have decided that it is time that I take a wife, and we are to be married tomorrow.”
His grandmother’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?” she whispered. “So soon?”
“Yes,” he said.
“What is she like?” she asked.
Lewis frowned. What was the best way to describe his young bride-to-be to his ailing grandmother? He certainly could not be entirely honest, or the poor woman might well expire on the spot.
“She is a beautiful and romantic girl.” Glancing at his grandmother’s book, he added, “She enjoys a good novel. I imagine the two of you would have a lively conversation.”
Assuming that Lady Bridget could learn to be a proper wife, that was.
“Oh,” the Dowager Duchess said. “That is good.”
“Yes,” he said. “She is quite eager to meet you as well. Lady Bridget is a lively thing, very sociable. Amicable.”
Lewis would have to give considerable thought to how and when the women met, though.
Even if his grandmother professed a desire to meet his new bride, that did not mean she would react well to her.
Lewis had discovered that, even when his grandmother seemed to be doing better than usual, her mind found new matters to worry about.
He could only imagine the chaos that a new duchess might bring.
“And I thought that you would like to attend the wedding.”
At first, Lewis had not thought to ask her. He had imagined gently coaxing Lady Bridget into his grandmother’s life, but after the ball, he had reconsidered that decision. It would only cause the rumors to multiply if he arrived at his own wedding without his sole surviving relative.
That was, unless his grandmother refused to go, and she might. It would be a significant deviation from her usual routine.
“No!” she exclaimed. “No, I cannot possibly go. There will be so many people there…”
“Not so many,” he said soothingly. “My bride and myself. I expect that Lady Bridget’s siblings will join her—at least, the two that are in London—and Morington will be present. The vicar.”
“Too many,” she insisted. “My nerves could not possibly endure such a gathering, and what if some accident was to befall us on the road?”
Lewis shook his head. “Grandmother, I could arrange a private box for you to watch the ceremony from. You need not even speak to anyone present. You could simply attend as my honored guest, and that would be sufficient.”
“No, I am not ready,” she said, shaking her head. “But—but I will meet your bride when I am. I promise you that.”
But when would she be ready?
Lewis forced a smile and nodded. He supposed that it was enough that he had a suitable bride. After years of worrying, he had found a Duchess of Wheelton, and so long as Lady Bridget learned her lessons well, everything else would fall into place.
The wedding arrived. His bride still had not, but Lewis assumed she would be coming. Gerard and his duchess had joined himself and Morington in the chapel, and Lewis did not imagine they would have come if Lady Bridget had decided not to be his wife.
Unless they did not know, of course. The vicar idly turned the pages of his Book of Common Prayer, as if he did not know what he intended to say.
Lewis barely managed to keep the grimace from his face.
Weddings were absurdly boring affairs, and he would have much preferred to have the matter over and done with by now. The waiting was excruciating.
“I am certain that Bridget will be here soon,” the duchess said, smiling warmly.
Lewis nodded curtly. He hoped she was right. How would his pride manage if she was not?
“Doubtlessly, the lady’s maid is taking more care than usual,” Morington said. “A lady must look her best on her wedding day.”
Certainly, that was true. Still, Lewis glanced around the chapel and found it strange that weddings were always such long, subdued affairs.
If the occasion was to be so joyous, it would be better for there to be proper entertainment.
Or perhaps more guests to share in the couple’s happiness.
Admittedly, accomplishing such things would have taken more than two weeks, and he had wanted to marry Lady Bridget as quickly as possible.
The chapel door opened at last, and Elias entered.
Lady Bridget came behind him, and all the air left Lewis’s lungs.
The lady was beautiful; he had always known that.
However, seeing her in that white gown with its silvery embroidery was like gazing at an angel.
It seemed unfathomable that such beauty might exist in a woman or that she might soon be his.
Even if she did not always behave properly, there was no question that Lady Bridget looked like she ought to be a duchess.
“Shall we?” Elias asked.
Bridget’s eyes darted to Lewis, and she nodded. “Yes.”
Her brother escorted her up the aisle to the altar. Lewis bowed. “My lady,” he said.
“Your Grace.”
And then, the ceremony began. As the vicar went through the usual readings, Lewis kept glancing towards his betrothed.
She kept her gaze fixed ahead on the vicar, her face as cold as marble.
Did she want this marriage? She could still refuse to wed him, and it would be most humiliating if she denied him at the altar.
There was a pause, and the vicar raised an eyebrow. “I do,” Lewis said. “I take thee, Bridget Leedway, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
He went through the usual vows, his blood roaring in his ears. At last, he had finished them. Lady Bridget cast him a quick, considering look. Now, it was all left to her.
If she refused to marry him, he must find some means of persuading her. Even if their guests were few, he had already told the ton that they were to be wed. He had been confident that the lady would not deny him.
Lady Bridget was so unpredictable, though.
Regardless of what schemes she might still be making, the young woman dutifully repeated the vows. The knot in Lewis’s chest loosened with each one, as every word drew them closer to being husband and wife.
When it was done he muffled a sigh of relief.
“My wife,” he said.
“My husband.”
“To the happy couple,” Elias said. “I offer my sincerest congratulations to the both of you.”
“Thank you,” Lewis said.
A sense of jubilation filled him. He had a duchess.
She was really his. Lewis’s awe of the young lady’s beauty was replaced with the ardent desire to rip that white and silver gown from her body and behold her slender form in all its naked glory.
He silently cursed the day, which would be filled with all manner of proper activities.
It would be a long time yet before he could consummate the marriage.
“Shall we leave for the wedding breakfast?” Lady Bridget asked. “Your Grace?”
“Yes,” he said, offering his arm.
“We have prepared an exceptional one,” Elias added.
“Doubtlessly,” Lewis said.
Elias led the way out of the chapel, Morington walking alongside him. Lewis suspected that his friend had purposefully gone ahead in the hopes of affording him a little privacy with his new bride. Gerard and his duchess followed.
“So, we are man and wife,” Lewis said quietly. “And you did not even have the opportunity to meet my grandmother.”
Lady Bridget—no, she was the Duchess of Wheelton. Her Grace. Lewis grimaced and determined that she would be Bridget from that moment forward. He did not wish to speak to her as if she was a stranger, after all.
“I know that you tried to see her,” Lewis added.
“I was turned away at the door.”
“So you were.”
“But I will solve that mystery,” Bridget said, her eyes bright with determination. “I hope you know that.”
“There is no mystery to solve,” he said. “But you will do what you wish, regardless of what counsel I might offer.”
She smirked at him, infuriating and lovely all at once. “So I shall. I hope you are quite ready to be married to me, husband mine. I wonder if you have, perhaps, not thought this through.”
He heard the challenge in her voice. “On the contrary, Bridget,” he said. “I think it is you who have not thought this through, but we are married now. We shall see how fast you learn.”