Chapter 19
“The Herbs ought to be distilled when they are in their greatest vigor, and so ought the Flowers also.”
Nicholas Culpeper
Their embrace lingered, carrying with it unspoken promises. When at last Audrey drew back, her lashes fluttered open as though reluctant to release the spell.
He did not press further. Instead, he rested his hand lightly at her waist. Not in possession, but as though offering her steadiness. Then he bent his brow to hers, their foreheads touching, and for several heartbeats they shared only breath and silence.
“You astonish me,” he murmured. “And I wish to deserve you.”
Audrey said nothing, for words seemed too frail. Instead, she slid her trembling hand over his, their fingers weaving together in quiet accord.
They remained thus—forehead to forehead, hands clasped, hearts beating in time—as though the world beyond the chamber had stilled. Julius’s arm encircled her at last, drawing her into the safe harbour of his embrace.
“You have undone me, Audrey Gideon,” he whispered, his tone raw with wonder. “You have captured every part of me.”
Her eyes stung with tears, for she knew it was true. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, her heart thundering in answer to his vow.
And when his lips found hers once more, it was an unhurried seal upon the promise spoken between them.
“I am yours,” he breathed.
And Audrey believed him.
Julius held her close, breath warm against her skin, every muscle taut with restrained emotion. His face remained near to hers, lips grazing the slope of her neck, savoring the flutter of her pulse beneath his mouth.
He could leave. He ought to leave. Yet he did not.
Instead, he let his thoughts drift, quietly savoring their embrace. Her generosity, her forgiveness, and the promise of something lasting. Something real.
He thought of their future. Of how he might make their wedding night meaningful. Of how, for all his worldly experience, he had still been unprepared for someone like her.
She had changed everything.
And he would not take her for granted.
Frustrated, Julius had driven himself to make one last visit despite his certainty that it would be a futile effort.
But meeting Dr. Hawley had been a revelation.
The physician had left his family’s dinner to speak with him and, from the first moment, it was clear he was unlike the others.
Hawley had listened attentively, asked intelligent questions, and had been eager to inspect the wound himself.
He had read Audrey’s journal with a furrowed brow and keen interest.
For the first time, Julius had found someone he could not wait to introduce to her.
Someone who might understand the intricate workings of her mind and share in her passions.
He would do his best to learn about her world, but he knew he could never be her equal in it.
That did not trouble him. In truth, it pleased him.
He wanted her to have every opportunity to thrive.
One lingering annoyance still tugged at the corners of his contentment—the constant presence of the Johns.
The pair shadowed him with all the subtlety of cathedral gargoyles.
He had been patient, but he resented the loss of his liberty.
At times he felt like some tragic figure in a Gothic romance, imprisoned in a shadowed manor and stalked by his own guardians.
The thought made him roll his eyes.
He shifted and nuzzled against Audrey’s sleeping form, breathing in the faint herbal scent clinging to her hair. Lavender, perhaps, or rosemary. It calmed him. Reminded him of what he had gained in exchange for a few vanities.
Eventually, with reluctant care, he turned her gently onto her back.
She murmured but did not stir. He rose and straightened his crumpled garments with a grimace.
They were creased, an affront to his usual standards, but he could not find it in himself to care.
The evening had rewritten his priorities.
He slipped from the room in silence.
Soon, there would be no need for such discretion. They would be wed, and he would spend every night beside her. Would they remain in his father’s townhouse? It was a question for another day—one of many they would answer together.
There was so much ahead of them. A life of shared ambitions. Of conversations that would challenge and delight. She was his cure—his remedy to years of restless discontent. With Audrey, he could at last imagine the future with anticipation rather than dread.
It was time.
SEPTEMBER 4, 1821
Audrey rose before dawn to inspect her bedchamber, wary of any servants appearing too early.
She moved quietly about the room, tidying away the evidence of Julius.
The linens were smoothed, pillows plumped, and her slippers retrieved from beneath the edge of the bed.
Still fatigued from the interruptions of the night before, she smoothed her crumpled night rail and climbed beneath the covers, the faint scent of his masculine presence lingering in the air.
When next she woke, sunlight streamed through the windows in golden shafts, and a glance at the timepiece on her bedside table revealed the hour—nearly noon.
Not the habit of the country girl she remained at heart, yet she would gladly sacrifice every early rising for the chance to relive such a night.
A thousand times over, she would not tire of hearing Julius murmur his admiration.
She stretched languidly and turned her head to inhale the pillow where he had lain. It smelled of spice, leather, and something ineffably masculine. A smile curved her lips.
Rolling from the bed, she made her way to the washstand, where a basin of cool water awaited. She had only begun her ablutions when a soft knock rapped at the chamber door. Drawing her robe about her and padding barefoot across the floor, she opened it with mild curiosity.
Julius leaned lazily against the opposite wall, his expression far too pleased with himself. He lifted a folded document in one hand and waggled it at her in triumph.
“Would you care to say your vows?”
Her mouth parted in delighted surprise. “The license?”
“It is. Are you ready?”
She glanced down at her nightwear and robe with a wry look. “I think not.”
His gaze swept over her, bold and unmistakably appreciative. “I do not see the issue. But if you must change, have you something charming tucked away in that wardrobe?”
Audrey turned to eye the mahogany piece and wrinkled her nose. “Only mourning garments lie within.”
Julius grinned. “Then my mother shall be summoned. Between her and Penelope, I have no doubt a suitable French gown can be produced.”
She nodded, heart fluttering at the swiftness of it all. “And what of a vicar?”
“The Reverend E. Stone is enjoying a hearty repast in the breakfast room while we dawdle upstairs.”
Audrey blinked. “Reverend Stone! You confirmed his alibi, then?”
“We did. Quite firmly. He was most flattered to be asked to officiate for such an illustrious family. He was the first to come to mind when the special license arrived this morning.”
Her smile widened. She had liked the cheerful clergyman and was pleased he would play a part. “Then send your mother!”
She closed the door with a flourish and returned to her toilette, washing swiftly before stepping into her stockings and shift.
Seating herself at the dressing table, she began brushing her hair when Lady Stirling entered with her lady’s maid in tow, arms filled with fine gowns.
Cheerful chatter filled the room as they dressed her, the countess fussing with maternal warmth.
They selected a soft azure gown trimmed with indigo braid at the waist and neckline, its flowing skirts falling gracefully to the floor.
A cascade of ivory lace adorned the bodice, its relaxed shaping flattering her figure.
At the mirror, Audrey was astonished at her reflection.
The maid had twisted her hair into a delicate coif, her golden locks arranged to frame her cheeks with becoming softness.
The blue of the gown deepened the hue of her eyes.
“You look beautiful, my dear,” Lady Stirling murmured behind her, tears glistening as she dabbed at them with a lace handkerchief.
Audrey was unused to such maternal attentions, but she found she liked the warmth of it. Sharing this moment, dressing for her wedding day, with the countess stirred something gentle and unfamiliar in her.
She grinned. It would do.
Shortly afterward, they departed Audrey’s chamber, Lady Stirling accompanying her to the formal drawing room.
Within, the atmosphere was cheerful and expectant.
Lord Stirling, immaculately turned out in a coat of deep blue, conversed amiably with his daughter, Penelope, whose mood had markedly improved since the previous evening.
Julius stood nearby in animated conversation with Reverend Stone.
Also present was Lord Filminster, accompanied by a diminutive young lady with chocolate brown hair, the Baroness Filminster, Audrey surmised.
The resemblance to her much taller brother, Lord Abbott, was unmistakable.
The viscount stood beside his bride, the statuesque redhead, Lady Abbott, who towered over the other ladies present with enviable grace.
Julius approached, offering his arm. “Shall I walk you around for introductions?”
She nodded, and he led her forward with an easy smile. As Audrey conversed with Reverend Stone about the ceremony to come, another pair entered the drawing room, and Julius turned to greet them with warmth.
“Miss Gideon, allow me to present my sometime chum, Lord Saunton, though it is his brother with whom I share closer acquaintance.”
Lord Saunton, a well-favored gentleman with an air of mischief, shook his head in mock reproof and bowed over her hand. “Pay Trafford no mind, Miss Gideon. We are never friends. I merely endure him for my brother’s sake.”
Audrey laughed and dipped a graceful curtsy. “The honor is mine, my lord.”
Julius turned next to the earl’s wife. “Lady Saunton, may I present my bride, Miss Audrey Gideon?”
The countess inclined her head with a smile full of warmth. “Miss Gideon, my cousins are quite beside themselves that you saved Lord Trafford from himself. They have spoken of little else these past days.”
She gestured toward the petite Lady Filminster and her imposing brother, Lord Abbott. Audrey was quietly relieved to have the familial connection clarified. She recalled now that Julius had mentioned the Sauntons previously, though the names had blurred amidst all that had transpired.
“Regrettably,” Lady Saunton added, “the duke is with the Home Secretary this morning to address the unfortunate events of recent days, so he and the duchess shall not be in attendance.”
Audrey blinked in surprise. It had not occurred to her that a duke would feel compelled to send apologies for missing her nuptials.
She was hardly society’s darling. Yet she remembered Julius mentioning the special license.
It must have been the duke who ensured its delivery.
The notion that such a figure had intervened on her behalf made her momentarily lightheaded.
She glanced about the room. No fewer than half a dozen peers had gathered to witness her vows. The realization was daunting indeed.
Soon, she stood beside Julius before the Reverend Stone. The ceremony commenced with solemnity and grace, and before long, Audrey spoke her vows in a voice only slightly trembling with emotion.
When it was done, she was Lady Trafford—an honorary viscountess, the wife of a brilliant and mischievous man, daughter-in-law to an earl, and embraced by a world she had never expected to enter.
She turned her head and looked up at Julius. How was he feeling now that his bachelor days were ended?
He smiled broadly and dipped his head to press a soft kiss to her cheek, his arm tucked securely about hers.
Much later, following a hearty wedding breakfast shared with their exuberant guests, Audrey stole a quiet moment to draw Julius aside. The ladies had taken their leave, while the gentlemen remained behind.
She leaned in, her voice low but steady. “What of the investigation?”
“Montague has been confirmed to have been receiving that dreadful blistering treatment from his physician on the afternoon of the coronation,” Julius said.
“We are satisfied he could not have visited the baron within hours of the incident. As a result, the investigation has shifted entirely toward gathering evidence against Scott. That is the focus of the duke’s meeting this morning—an informal exchange with Sir Robert to share what we know, though without naming any names or offering specifics.
The gentlemen shall confer with my father later today when the duke returns from the Home Office, to determine how best to proceed. ”
“So this matter is nearly concluded?”
Julius leaned down, his voice a soft murmur that sent a ripple of sensation along her spine. “It is. And matters between us are only just beginning.”
Audrey found she could not reply—her heart too full, her thoughts too muddled with joy. The elusive Julius Trafford was her husband now. Truly, wholly hers. And best of all, he appeared delighted by the fact.
His lips brushed near her cheek, and he whispered an unexpected query.
“Would you care to visit my tailor with me tomorrow morning?”
She blinked at him, puzzled. “Do you mean a modiste?”
He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with familiar mischief.
“Nay. My mother shall happily escort you to a modiste. I was thinking of something different. You might enjoy having a set of gentlemen’s garments made to measure, so that we might explore a few places together without drawing unwanted notice.
Have you ever been to the horse auctions at Tattersall’s? ”
Audrey’s mouth fell open in delight. “Yes! That sounds wonderful.”
“You shall need attire that conceals …” His hand brushed lightly over her hip, his gaze warm with unmistakable appreciation.
She nibbled her lip unconsciously, blushing as she considered the secrets of marriage that would be revealed now that they were wed.
Very soon, she hoped. Very, very soon.