Chapter Eighteen #2
Damiano did not answer. All he did know was that he had an arduous journey ahead of him and an even more arduous interview with the marquis at the end of it.
How was he to explain that their estate was gone, they were barred from England, the Mosquito yet lived, and he would have no duke’s daughter on his arm when he arrived?
He would have to think of something. The marquis did not look favorably upon disappointment and Damiano had two younger brothers. He was replaceable.
*
Weston supposed he was not too surprised that the palace hushed up di Compressio’s actions on the night of the fête.
He might have been much more aggravated about it than he was, had he not been engaged to Lady Valor.
As he spent most of his time in her company, there was not much time to seethe over it.
He did not speak about it much to his fiancée, as he did not wish for her to have any nightmares about it.
When it did come up, he just pointed out how brave she’d been.
She admitted that it was the first really brave thing she’d ever done.
Her rescuing of Sir Galahad had been a little brave, but then Lord Thorpe had been there all along and she’d begun to think the whole thing had been set up by him.
He encouraged her not to care too much about that, as she had not known it was set up when it happened. In any case, it had ended with her having a tremendous dog.
Weston was not certain how tremendous he actually viewed the dog, but he was always rewarded with a lovely smile, so tremendous Sir Galahad would remain.
He sensed that his lady was a bit on edge about the future, which he thought was understandable. A lady gave over her life to a lord who proceeded to decide how things would be.
He decided she would do better with detailed information and he had a long talk with the duke about it.
They would split their time between Cornwall and the Dales.
Weston pressed the idea that Lord Ledderbey must be brought with them, as he was getting of an age when he ought not be left to bang around his house by himself.
The duke had agreed to it, though he’d laughed that he worked for years to clear his house of daughters and somehow ended inheriting an old man into the bargain.
Just now, Weston hurried down the stairs to find Lord Ledderbey waiting for him and the carriage outside.
Just now, he was getting married.
*
Valor peered out the windows of the drawing room.
She’d been dressed in good time, putting on her favorite of the dresses Madame LaFray had composed.
It was an elegant lilac silk, cut simply with no embellishments but for tiny little lilacs around the cuffs of the sleeves.
Her ideas that it was lovely were confirmed when Serenity arrived and wept over it.
Then of course, she wore the sapphire necklace that Tramondeley had gifted her.
She very much doubted she’d ever wear anything else.
Tramondeley’s carriage was outside his house. He would be here soon. He was such a dear to take Lord Ledderbey in the carriage though it was just around the square.
Lady Marchfield was deeply sighing behind her and muttering, “There is no accounting for it.”
“Oh aunt, do cheer up,” Valor said. “I know you have always feared for us—”
“And somehow I still do.”
“But we are all settled creditably. You must admit that.”
Lady Marchfield did not look inclined to admit anything.
“And just think, Papa says we will not get rid of Mr. Huberville because Mrs. Right has explained to him that he’s so incompetent that he would starve on the road.”
“I probably would, too,” Mr. Huberville said cheerfully as he passed by.
“I suppose that’s something.”
“Look how kind he is,” Valor said, leaning forward and watching Lord Tramondeley help Lord Ledderbey to the carriage.
“He is a fine young man and your father’s heir. I can have nothing against it.”
Valor had nothing against it either. She would wed a glorious man and would never really leave her home in the Dales.
She could not wait to show it to him. They would go there for their wedding trip with her father and Lord Ledderbey joining them in a month.
After the summer, they would take Lord Ledderbey home to Cornwall, but she had been assured there would be no nighttime forays in the sloop and any danger to Lord Tramondeley was long gone from England.
The carriage had come round the square. “He’s here!” she said, leaping up from the sofa. She ran into the great hall and out the doors while her aunt scolded her from behind.
Her lord jumped out of the carriage and she jumped straight into his arms.
They were getting married.
As always happened to Valor when she was in a new and stressful situation, she was nearly blind with fear during the wedding service.
She reminded herself that she was in her own home, as they wed with a special license, and she was surrounded by all her sisters, her father, and Mrs. Right.
Nevertheless, she was in a fog of fear. Tramondeley seemed to sense it though and held her up by the arm and whispered to her when she forgot the words.
At one point, the curate from the Grosvenor Church stopped the service and asked Valor if she wed of her own volition, apparently so discombobulated had she seemed. That, of anything, went a long way to calm her.
“Yes,” she said. “I am just terrorized, as I always am in new and scary situations. Lord Tramondeley knows all about it.” It helped to just say it, for some reason.
The lord had nodded. “It’s true, I know all about it.”
The curate had not seemed to take a terrible amount of comfort from that assurance, but he continued on.
She was married. They had done it in the late afternoon, nobody in the family liking a morning service.
Her father had arranged for a lovely early dinner and Valor drank a large glass of wine to settle herself.
Mrs. Right sat on her other side, to the great exasperation of Lady Marchfield, but Valor was comforted by it as the lady had acted as her mother all her life.
Perhaps what settled her most of all though was Tramondeley.
He was such a calm brick of a man. He’d said everything would be all right and so that must be true.
The far end of the table was taken up by her young nieces and nephews, or Pelham’s Pirates, as they had named themselves.
Young Miles and his second-in-command, Isabelle, were kept busy keeping the younger ones in order, chasing after them when they escaped, and explaining there was no reason to cry over anything green on their plate as they did not need to eat it.
The arrangements that had been made before Valor and Tramondeley set off for the Dales were that they were to spend the first night in Lord Ledderbey’s house, which she had been apprised was really the duke’s house, as he had rented it in the first place.
Lord Ledderbey would stay in the duke’s house and he’d promised to look after Sir Galahad overnight. Valor thought her new husband had been a little surprised to discover that Sir Galahad would accompany them, but if he was, he covered it very well and said, “Of course he must.”
After the dinner, they were cheered by all their family and ran across the square. Valor was both eager to be alone with Lord Tramondeley and nervous about it.
She reminded herself that she had proved she could be brave. She must be brave. She would not allow Lord Tramondeley to ever regret his choice. She must be brave.
Valor knew very well that she was not quite as bold as her sisters when it came time to shut the door to the world and be alone with her husband, but she was determined.
As it happened, Tramondeley understood her very well.
He had his own particular approach to his skittish bride.
Once they were alone, he pulled away after a kiss and said, “I ought not go further.”
When he was assured he might go further, he went a bit further. And then he pulled away and said, “I ought not go further.”
Valor could hardly say how it happened, but somehow she was up the stairs and she was not frightened.
There were stops and starts and it was all up to her.
The first time she’d said he might go further and then further again and then even further again was a bit of a shock, even though she understood what was to happen.
After that, though, she rather enjoyed herself. A lot, actually.
And so it was that marital relations were more than satisfactorily established between them.
Over time, shyness was entirely lost and Weston’s strategy became a game in their marriage.
He would say, “I ought not go further.” She would say, “You really better go further.” Or if she wished to hint to him, she might wait until he read the paper or wrote letters or some other mundane activity and say, “Did you plan to go further with that?” His answer was always to throw aside whatever he was doing and chase her up the stairs.
The stairs in the Dales often saw such activity during the wedding trip.
Mrs. Right and Thomas had come to run the house, with a cook hired from a nearby village.
The staff kept themselves well out of the way of the couple and rather enjoyed themselves below stairs as the duke said the cellars were open for their convenience.