Chapter 12 #2
The vicar looked up. “Edward Robert John Atherton. Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?
Edward’s voice was full and confident, answering without hesitation. “I will.”
“Margaret Seton. Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.” She tried to make her voice as confident as his, though it shook with emotion and Edward gently touched her hand with his.
They repeated their vows and Edward put a simple gold band onto her finger beside the sapphire and the vicar pronounced them husband and wife, before blessing them. When the register had been signed, they left the chapel together hand in hand.
“We will return shortly,” said Edward to the vicar. “In the meantime, would you escort my mother to the wedding breakfast?”
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
Hands clasped, Edward led Maggie out of the house and down towards the stables. Once they were out of sight of the others, he stopped and turned her to face him. “I have already spoken my vows to you, Maggie, but I must tell you again that I love you.”
She gazed up into his blue eyes and saw only happiness there, reflecting her own. “Will you kiss me, husband?” she asked, and his lips touched hers in a kiss so gentle and loving that neither could doubt the other’s feeling.
“Now come, I must show you to someone before our wedding breakfast,” said Edward.
“Show me?”
“It is important,” he said.
She followed him, curious, into the stableyard, where Old John was brushing down Merlin.
“Good morning, Old John,” said Edward.
“Good morning, Your Grace, Miss Seton.”
“Ah, there you are wrong, Old John. This is your new mistress, my newlywed wife, the Duchess of Buckingham,” said Edward.
Old John put down the brush and came towards them, then touched his cap to Maggie. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he said. “I wish you joy.”
“Thank you, Old John,” said Maggie and when she glanced at Edward his eyes had welled up. He held out his hand to Old John, who shook it.
Edward cleared his throat. “There will be a celebration for all the staff tomorrow. I’ve asked Mrs Barton to take good care of you all.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. May God bless you.”
“Thank you, Old John,” said Edward. “Now I must take my bride to our wedding breakfast.”
The guests arrived for breakfast in the drawing room, only to be told that it had been moved into the large dining room adjacent to the ballroom and when they arrived there were startled to see not only a more lavish spread than expected but also a white bride cake, decorated with fresh pink and cream roses.
“Come join us,” called out Edward. “Celebrate the happy occasion of my marriage to Margaret.”
There were some audible gasps as well as a choked-back laugh from Lady Honora, before the guests gathered themselves and congratulations began to flow, received with joyful smiles by Edward and Maggie and with forced dignity by the Dowager Duchess. The Godwins, Maggie realised, had already left, for there was no sign of them.
“I am sorry if Miss Belmont had her expectations dashed,” she whispered to Edward during the breakfast.
“She is a sweet-natured woman; I hope she will find someone with whom she can be as happy as I am with you,” said Edward.
She leant her head on his shoulder for a moment, revelling in the intimacy of the gesture in public.
Much of the rest of the day was taken up with polite conversation with their guests, before everyone retired to their rooms early to begin preparing for the ball.
“I will leave off your shift,” said Celine, “We do not want it bulking out the dress, it will sit better this way.”
She dressed Maggie, first in her longline corset, which cupped and lifted her breasts and came down as far as her waist, added a pink silk petticoat and tied her white silk stockings with ribbons, her white dancing slippers with rose-coloured ribbons. Finally, she drew the dress over Maggie’s head, the pale pink silk bodice and its silk roses giving way to a white silk gauze skirt which, sitting over the pink silk below, took on a rosy shimmering glow when she moved. All over the gauze skirt were worked tiny rosy silk petals, as though they had fallen from the roses on her bodice.
“It is so beautiful,” breathed Maggie.
“Wait until you have these,” said Celine, turning to the two large leather boxes at her side, one square, one a long rectangle.
“What are they?”
“This,” said Celine, gleaming with a secret, “is the Buckingham diamond parure .”
“The what?”
“A parure is a set of jewels,” explained Celine. “The Buckinghams have several, of course, but these are the Buckingham diamonds, and they are exquisite.”
She lifted the lid of the box and Maggie gasped. Inside, laid out on black velvet, were a tiara, a necklace, two bracelets and a pair of earrings, all made of magnificent, glittering diamonds larger than she had ever seen.
“These are yours now,” said Celine with satisfaction. “They are worn only by the Duchess of Buckingham. Some of the other sets are occasionally lent to a relative, but not these. Only you have the right to wear these now.”
Carefully, she lifted each item and placed them on Maggie’s head, around her neck and wrists, then finally inserted the earrings.
“I feel like a queen,” murmured Maggie.
“One more thing.”
“There is more?”
Celine opened the second box and lifted out three huge ostrich plumes, creamy white and soft, trembling in her hands. She slid each one into Maggie’s hair and pinned them. “See, Your Grace,” she said, and Maggie turned to the looking glass.
“I am beautiful,” she managed at last, and her voice shook.
“You are,” agreed Celine.
There was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” called Maggie.
Edward stood in the doorway, in a dark blue silk that made his eyes a richer and deeper hue.
“You look so handsome,” Maggie said, smiling.
But he also looked angry. “Leave us,” he said to Celine. She curtseyed and closed the door behind her.
“Is – is something wrong?”
He crossed the space between them and pulled her to him so hard that she let out a cry. “How are you so beautiful?” he asked, one arm still holding her, the other hand cupping her face. “How?”
She tried to laugh but his mouth was on hers, his tongue already seeking hers, the kiss so passionate it left her breathless.
“Edward… they will be waiting for us downstairs.”
“I do not care,” he said. “They can wait.”
His movements grew slower. He pulled out each of the three feathers in her hair, dropping them onto her dressing table. His lips brushed her shoulders while his fingers unbuttoned her bodice, allowing the silk and gauze dress to fall to the floor, exposing her corset beneath it and the delicate silk ribbon which gathered the fabric around her breasts.
“If I undo this ribbon…” he whispered and she gasped at the sharp tug he gave, loosening the gathers, so that her breasts, freed from their support, swelled forwards, the tip of a nipple appearing at the edge of the corset. He slid his fingers along the rim of the fabric, pulling at it until both her breasts, still lifted upwards by the corset beneath them, were now fully visible to him. Maggie gazed up at him, trembling at the desire in his eyes.
“I have dreamt of this moment,” he murmured, one arm drawing her close to his body so that her bare breasts were pressed against the ridged woven silk of his waistcoat, one hand on her waist, unfastening the tie which still held her pink silk petticoat in place. The silk slipped down her thighs as it fell, leaving her dressed only in her corset, stockings and the Buckingham diamonds. She nestled into his arms, touching his jaw, running her fingers through his hair.
“You cannot undress me further,” she told him. “Or I will be late to the ball.”
“I will take you as you are,” he told her. “I have all of you that I need. I have your lips,” and he kissed her, “I have your breasts,” and he cupped one in his hand.
She closed her eyes, revelling in the touch of his hand, before opening them as he lowered her gently down onto the bed, so that she was sitting on the edge of it, while he knelt before her.
“Are you proposing to me again?” she whispered. “I have already said yes.”
He put his hands on her thighs and moved them slowly down to the ribbons of her stockings as she leant forward, wanting something from him but not knowing what it was, only that she wanted him closer to her, to feel his body against hers as it had been a moment ago, he felt too far away now, kneeling before her.
He put his hands on her knees and slowly pushed them apart. “Say yes again,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.
She did not know what she was saying yes to, only that she wanted everything that was happening. “Yes,” she breathed and gasped as his tongue began to explore her. She fell back onto the silk coverlet, writhing under his touch while his hands gripped her thighs and buttocks, one hand reaching for him, wanting more and more but he stopped, standing over her at the foot of the bed undoing his breeches while she watched him, wide-eyed, then moved backwards up the bed so that he could join her on it, crawling up between her legs until he was pressed up against her.
“Yes,” she whispered again, reaching up her arms to him, pulling him down onto her, feeling the full weight of him as he entered her, a whimper of pain escaping her lips.
He drew back. “I hurt you.”
“Yes,” she said again, but she was smiling. “I want it. All of it.”
And they were lost in each other, entwined together in pain and growing pleasure until she cried out his name and her cry brought him to a shuddering release.
Afterwards he tried to help her dress, although it proceeded very slowly, as he kissed every part of her as he did so.
“Oh,” she said, catching sight of herself in the looking glass as he did up the buttons at the back of her dress. “My dress is crumpled, and half my hair has come down. And your hair is all ruffled,” she added, reaching out to ruffle it further. “Everyone will know what we have been doing.”
He buried his face in her neck, laughing, kissing her. “You are beautiful, and I do not care that your clothes are crumpled. But I will send Celine to you so that you do not disgrace her, at least. Do I pass muster?”
She shook her head, laughing at him. “No! Your cravat is undone, and your hair is mussed, your breeches have been mis-buttoned and where even is your tailcoat? You must call for Joseph before anyone sees you.” She picked up the ostrich feathers and brushed them across his face. “One of us at least must be seen at the ball and you can be dressed more quickly than I.”
“I do not want to call for anyone,” he said. “I want to stay here with you and do it all again.”
She let go of the feathers and came to him, cupped his face in her hands. “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
“Now?”
She laughed and kissed him, a long, lingering kiss. “After the ball. After we have danced the waltz together. We will do it all again and wake in one another’s arms. Now go.”
Celine’s eyebrows raised to see Maggie half-dressed and rumpled when she had left her looking perfect, but she only smiled a secret smile and hurried to re-pin Maggie’s hair, return the ostrich feathers to their place, straighten and smooth her gown.
“Thank you,” said Maggie when she was done. “How do I look?”
“Glowing,” said Celine. “And it is not my work that has done that to you.”
Maggie giggled. “I am so happy, Celine,” she said.
“I wish you joy,” said Celine. “I know you will bring His Grace great happiness.”
Maggie made her way to the ballroom, where Edward came to meet her at once, kissing her hand to applause and cheers, leading the opening dance with her, a graceful minuet.
“I think I should probably speak with some of our guests,” he said, as the dance concluded. “But I shall be back for the waltz.”
She watched him walk away, strong and handsome and… hers. The thought of what they had done together, that such pleasure could be theirs over and over again, real happiness lying within their grasp, was intoxicating.
“Congratulations and all that sort of thing,” said Lady Honora, appearing by Maggie’s side. “Bagging a duke in your first season, can’t say fairer than that. Inside job, though. Some of the mamas will claim you had an unfair advantage,” she added with a grin. “Now they’ll have to pick the second-best on their lists.”
Maggie grinned back. “I hope with Edward out of the way they might allow their daughters a say in who they marry, and perhaps allow them to marry for love.”
“Hardly likely,” Lady Honora sniffed. “Doesn’t work that way round these parts, or are you new?”
Maggie couldn’t help laughing. “I think I must be new.”
“Ah well, you’ll learn. Congratulations, Your Grace.” Lady Honora offered a curtsey.
“Promise me you won’t call me that,” said Maggie. “I would prefer you call me Margaret.”
“I think you’ll find that’s only for family and the most intimate of friends.”
Maggie hooked her arm through Lady Honora’s. “Then you must promise to be my most intimate friend,” she said. “And right now, my intimate friend Honora needs to help me find an ice before I melt.”
“Right you are,” said Honora, steering her through the crowd. “Step this way, Margaret.”
“And have you found someone yourself this season, Honora?”
“Hard to tell,” said Honora, adroitly avoiding the dancing couples and guiding them to a table piled high with tiny glasses of shining colourful ices. “Let’s just say there’s a chance I’ve found what I was looking for.”
“Mowatt?”
Honora laughed. “You haven’t been paying enough attention these last few weeks,” she said. “The uncle died and Mr Mowatt is now Lord Barrington, and engaged.”
“Then I hope to meet whomever you have in mind, one day soon.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” said Honora, waving her hand at the selection before them. “Lemon, rose or elderflower?”
As the evening progressed Maggie smiled graciously at the many congratulations she received and even responded when someone called her Your Grace rather than thinking they were speaking to Edward’s mother, who was standing to one side, her face expressionless as she watched Maggie and Edward circulate.
Maggie made her way over, put out a hand and touched the Duchess’ arm, noticing as she did so the stark contrast of the white and pink silken gauze of her dress against the near-black of the Duchess’ purple silk.
The Duchess turned her head, face turned stony. “Yes?”
Maggie stepped closer to her, so that she could be heard, even at a murmur. “I hope you will find it in you to be glad for Edward.”
“ Glad? How can you –”
“Edward is marrying someone he loves and who loves him in return,” interrupted Maggie. “I know on your wedding day you hoped for the same.”
The Duchess’ shoulders stiffened. “How dare you –”
“I am sorry your hopes were not met,” said Maggie, her hand still on the Duchess’ arm. “I am sorry your married life was spent in thrall to a man who was rough, and unkind and did not know how to love or care for you. Who modelled your first son in his image and made you doubt your second son, even though he was born in your image.”
The Duchess stared at her, but she did not move away and, emboldened, Maggie took her hand.
“Edward is not mad. He never was. He was broken. As you would have been, had you not built a wall about yourself, a fortress to keep you safe. I am sorry you had to do that. I am sorry you felt you had to give up your son to keep him safe. I am sorry for all you have been through. Edward is mending now, you can see for yourself how he grows in strength, day by day, yet keeps his gentle nature. Perhaps you can begin to take down the walls of your fortress, one stone at a time and show some of your gentleness. I will help you, if you will let me.”
“You have… said enough,” said the Duchess, but her voice cracked. She had not withdrawn her hand.
“I do not want to be enemies,” said Maggie. “I want a family. I have never had a family. I hope Edward and I will have many children. We will make our own family since we have so little between us. But I hope you will come to be a part of it. There will always be room for you.” She pressed the Duchess’ hand and felt the tiniest response, hardly there and yet there. “I must find Edward now,” she said, letting go. “It will be the waltz soon. Excuse me, Aunt Caroline.”
“Mama.”
Maggie turned back. “Excuse me?”
The Duchess lifted her chin. Her eyes did not quite meet Maggie’s. “You should call me Mama, now.”
Maggie smiled. “Would that be the correct thing to do, do you think?”
The Duchess’ eyes flickered to Maggie’s and quickly away. “It would.”
“Then please excuse me, Mama.”
She walked away from the Duchess, feeling lighter with every step.
“I believe I have claimed this dance?” Edward appeared before her as the strains of the waltz began.
Maggie gazed up at him as their arms lifted together and their hands joined. “The waltz will always be yours, Your Grace.”
He smiled down at her. “I will always be ready to claim it. To claim you , Your Grace.” His hands tightened on her waist. The thought of what those hands had done to her only a short time ago, how and where they had touched her, made her breathless.
“I never knew before now what it was to be wanted,” she said and saw his jaw clench for a moment at the thought of the unhappy pasts they had both suffered, but then he smiled. A radiant smile, full of confidence and joy, that made her heart fill with happiness.
“You are wanted, Maggie,” he said, as he whirled her around the floor, her body pressed to his. “Trust me. Now and till the end of our days. You will always be wanted.”
I hope you have enjoyed Lady for a Season . If you have, I would really appreciate it if you would leave a rating or brief review, so that new readers can find it. I read all reviews and am always grateful for your time in writing them and touched by your kind words. There will be more books in the Regency Outsiders standalone series to come very soon, indeed, you may already have met a few of the other Outsiders in these very pages…