Chapter 9
News of it had been announced in all the newspapers of credible and not so reliable import.
Hints of either the bride’s or groom’s past were nowhere mentioned.
Instead, due note was taken of the bride’s education and her father’s fine reputation.
The earl was credited with advancement of many useful laws in Parliament and of one new bill which, while not favored by many members currently, showed signs that the earl was a progressive thinker who valued all men and women equally.
As for the bride, she stood serenely before her mirror in her assigned housekeeper’s suite and admired the fine work of Madame Channard.
The dressmaker had outdone herself not only with new gowns but with an additional order for a new full length coat and many new items of translucent silk lingerie for the bride.
Of the four new gowns Channard brought the day before Christmas, three were day wear muslin, comfortable and pretty colors of the spectrum from purples to greens.
The colors were at the request of the earl who demanded hues to complement his intended’s red gold hair and earthy green-brown eyes.
This gown Winn had chosen for her wedding day, however, was a pale mint Luccan silk with emerald-colored ribbons worked in and out of the bodice and at the edges of the elbow-length puffy sleeves.
Winn felt like a princess. She stared at herself, acknowledging that she would become more than she had ever hoped.
She would be a lady of her own house and mistress of a large and happy country house.
She would be a mother to three wonderful boys who cared for her and she for them.
Better than all the rest, she would be the wife of the man she loved.
“Are you ready yet? You are late. Five minutes, Winn!” Bridgette urged her on with wide eager eyes. “You don’t want the groom to leave!”
“He would never. He’s spent too much time these past weeks persuading me to stay!”
They both giggled as Winn led them to the door.
But it burst open!
And there stood the worried groom! Dressed in formal dark gray morning frockcoat, elaborate cravat, cream and blue embroidered waistcoat, his sky blue eyes hooded with anxiety, he stepped toward her. “You are ravishing!”
“What are you doing—?”
But he swept her up into his arms and spun for the hall.
“Taking you to be married, Miss Mathers!”
She realized his problem. She had dallied for five forbidden minutes and he had rushed to her, suffering his old fear that she had left.
“You can put me down, my dear man.”
“No.”
“I do walk.”
“That is what I am afraid of.”
“Not away from you.” She caught his cheek in one hand and said, “Stop. Look at me.”
He did. Frowning still, he gazed at her hair, her ear, her throat, her bodice, her lips and finally, her eyes.
“I go nowhere without you ever again.”
“You promise me?”
“With all my heart, my darling. I love you. I have all my life and I am the most honored of ladies that you love me in return.”
“Excellent.” He nodded, his brows unknitting. “Let’s make that legal, shall we?”
So he took the servants’ back stairs up as Winn held her breath that the two of them would not tumble back down and break their necks, single unto death.
But he carried her into the salon like a pirate’s prize where twenty-four guests, including Bridgette and all the house servants, gasped and grinned at their appearance.
Winn’s father stood near the vicar, laughing at his soon-to-be son-in-law’s jolly smile. Her dear papa had remained at the house for the holiday festivities.
The countess stood to the other side and smiled at her son’s bravado and at his bride’s chuckle.
Roger and William stood by the vicar and clapped at the sight of their father and their soon-to-be-mother.
Tio however broke away from his brothers and ran to the couple.
He tugged on his father’s frockcoat and demanded the man give over the lady in his arms.
When he surrendered to his youngest son’s wishes and put Winn to her feet, Tio caught Winn’s hand and kissed it. Never breaking his grip, he walked between his sire and his new lady and took them before the vicar.
Winn curled her fingers toward Roger and William. Roger took his father’s hand. She took William’s. Together as a family, the five of them stood as the bride and groom said their vows and turned to receive the applause and good wishes of their guests.
Breakfast was served in the formal dining room. There the earl and his countess visited with each guest.
The Duke of Wharton beamed at them and offered congratulations. “A fine couple. I wish you all the best in this world and many long years to enjoy it.”
Next to him, Viscount DeVries also offered his best wishes. “I envy you, Bettington. Would that there were many to equal your new lady wife.”
“I know there are many who are worthy,” she told him.
He laughed, liking her words. “Help me find one, will you, my lady?”
“I’d be happy to do that.”
An hour later, her husband and she were in his traveling coach leaving the city.
Wrapped up in her new winter coat of purple velvet with white fox at her collar and cuffs, she snuggled into her husband’s embrace.
The hot bricks in the floor warmed her toes, but it was her husband’s embrace that filled her entire body with hot delight.
She arched up and planted a firm kiss to his handsome lips.
“Where do we go, sir?” For days, he had refused to tell her where he planned their honeymoon.
“Not far.”
She shivered. Each night since she had gone to him, she had lain in his arms and learned the physical joys of a true and earnest partnership.
“Cold?” He pressed her closer.
“Pleased.” She let her brows dance in anticipation of what marital delights awaited her soon.
He let out a hearty laugh and hugged her madly.
“So, sir, where do we go?”
“A cottage by the Thames on Wharton’s land near Richmond. An hour at most.”
“Oh, I am pleased.” She kissed him once more in the midst of a laugh.
“Eager, are you?”
“To be yours again?” She curled up closer to him. “Never have I wanted any other man. Nor will I.”
“I am yours, my darling, always.”
“As I am yours alone.”
The End
***
Hoping you have enjoyed HIS MERRY HOUSEKEEPER, and would like to read the rest of the Delightful Doings in Dudley Crescent series. Do begin with HER BEGUILING BUTLER.
In Number 10 Dudley Crescent, the widow Lady Ranford has a butler who is devilishly attractive. Too bad, he finds her fascinating.
Too bad he thinks she murdered her husband.
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