CHAPTER 30
The next fortnight passed in a dizzying blur. There were fittings for her wedding gown, menus to go over with McClellan and Wrexford’s cook, and sketches for the decorative flowers and bridal bouquet to review with Hawk and the dowager . . .
“Lud, an elopement was so much simpler,” muttered Charlotte as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and hurriedly added the last section of cross-hatched shadows to her drawing for Mr. Fores. “I wonder if Wrexford would consider. . .”
But the thought quickly yielded to a rueful smile.
The earl would likely leap at the idea, but she wouldn’t dream of disappointing Alison for a second time.
The boys, too, had become increasingly excited by the idea of the pageantry.
Indeed, they had taken it upon themselves to design a procession for leading her down the aisle.
A soft laugh tickled in her throat. The procession included Alice the Eel Girl, Skinny, One-Eye Harry, and Pudge—their urchin friends from the stews who now were part of the earl’s country estate—carrying bouquets of flowers designed by Hawk.
Raven and Hawk were going to lead the way, with Harper, Wrexford’s wolflike Scottish deerhound, walking between them, draped with a floral garland.
After putting the finishing touches on her drawing, the last one due before departing for the earl’s estate, Charlotte consulted her list of the things left to do before their traveling party left for the country first thing in the morning.
“Good heavens.” Her eyes widened in dismay. “Surely, there can’t be that many!”
“M’lady, m’lady!” called Raven from the foot of the stairs. “Aunt Alison has arrived!”
“I’ll be down in a moment . . .”
* * *
Dawn’s pale light was just giving way to brighter sunshine as Wrexford helped Charlotte into the carriage.
He quickly climbed in after her and closed the door, shutting out the shouts and laughter from the rest of their party, who were piling into the dowager’s barouche.
Tyler was bringing up the rear with the baggage wagons.
“I was beginning to fear that you had eloped,” he quipped after sitting beside her and settling his shoulders against the soft leather squabs.
They had hardly seen each other during the past two weeks.
But thankfully, Alison had offered to have the boys and McClellan journey with her, allowing the two of them some quiet time together.
Her laugh warmed the still-cool morning air within the shadowed interior. “Oh? With whom?”
“Actually, I was thinking that the impending prospect of being leg-shackled to me might have made you run off on your own,” he replied.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” Charlotte shifted closer, her body fitting comfortably—nay, perfectly—against his. “Alison would have both our heads on a platter if we didn’t show up for the ceremony.”
He brushed a kiss to the top of her head. “And heaven forfend that we displease the dowager.”
“I let her down in the past,” replied Charlotte softly.
“I think you’ve more than made it up to her, my love.” He drew her into the crook of his arm. “I’ve missed you. What with all the demands on our time, we’ve had so little time together.”
“And I have missed you.” She slipped her hand beneath his coat, her fingers playing over the folds of his linen shirt. “Have all the complications of the murders been resolved with the authorities and the investigation deemed officially closed?”
“Yes,” he answered. “The government was relieved that it wasn’t necessary for Lyman to stand trial.
It would have been awkward for them to admit America’s involvement in bringing the miscreant to justice for his many crimes.
In private, however, Daggett received a medal, and sails for home tomorrow with the assurance that the Foreign Office will redouble its efforts to make peace between our two countries. ”
“The captain should be pleased,” mused Charlotte. “He is a hard man, but a fair one. I hope Lyman’s demise helps put to rest his own personal demons.”
“He sends you his best regards,” said Wrexford. “However, had he made one more mention of how fetching you look in breeches, I might have had to darken his deadlights.”
Her fingers stilled on his chest. “Oh, come, Wrexford, you don’t have a jealous bone in your body.”
“Are you quite sure?” He turned just enough to look down his nose at her. “I don’t think you’ve explored my body thoroughly enough to come to an accurate conclusion.”
Is that a blush darkening her cheeks? He smiled at the thought of it.
“Perhaps you’re right.” Her eyes were now twinkling with amusement. “After all, you’ve explained to me ad nauseam that the scientific method demands that assumptions must be proved by empirical evidence.”
“There is much to be said for the scientific method.” He pulled her into a long and lush kiss.
“But first, I ought to finish telling you about the other developments concerning Becton’s discovery.
As we learned last week, Professor Murray did indeed receive the research papers, and has agreed to return them to the Royal Society. ”
“That seems the right decision, as they are the leading scientific society in the world, and the best qualified to decide how to proceed,” replied Charlotte.
“As it happens, they’ve created a large endowment to develop the medicine,” said Wrexford. “You see, I accompanied Griffin and his men when they searched Lyman’s house for evidence of other conspiracies. There was, if you recall, a chest of gold delivered there from Quincy.”
“A partial payment for illegally trafficking in enslaved men and women,” mused Charlotte.
“I convinced Griffin and his superiors that it ought to be donated to the Royal Society so that the blood money could be put to a noble use. And they, in turn, created the endowment in honor of Becton.” Wrexford couldn’t hold back another smile.
“I’m delighted to report that they appointed Dr. Hosack as its director, with authority to oversee the cultivation of the specimen plant and the continuing research to develop a medicine that will hopefully save many lives. ”
“What marvelous news, Wrexford! That was quite brilliant of you.”
“That’s not all that will please you,” he murmured. “Hosack is very impressed with your friend Moretti and his scholarship. The doctor has offered him the position of chief researcher, and he’s accepted. The two of them will sail to New York on the same ship as Daggett.”
“Thank you,” said Charlotte, her voice thick with emotion.
“In all fairness, I can’t claim any credit for that decision.” He paused. “But I’m happy to have been proven wrong about thinking him a fribble.”
Charlotte touched his cheek. “You’re not often wrong, Wrexford. Though I daresay, I’ll regret telling you that.”
“I make my share of mistakes.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “But there’s one elemental thing that I got oh-so-right.”
Sunlight flickered through the windowpanes as the carriage passed Regent’s Park and turned onto the road leading north.
She smiled, then her expression turned pensive. “As to getting things oh-so right . . . I am worried about Kit and Cordelia. Their attraction is clear to everyone around them, but—”
“But like us, they are grappling with their own inner demons?” suggested Wrexford.
He settled back against the squabs. “Kit fears that she still sees him as naught but a charming wastrel. And Cordelia worries that she is too eccentric and independent to fit into the role of a wife. And much as we wish to tell them otherwise, it wouldn’t help.
They must muddle through their doubts on their own. ”
“For a man who claims to be ruled entirely by logic, how is it that you’ve become oh-so wise about emotions?” murmured Charlotte.
“Perhaps practice makes perfect,” he replied.
The glow that lit in her eyes sent a shiver of warmth through him. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Now, let us put aside further talk of murder, mayhem, and the romantic travails of our dear friends,” he said, “and turn our thoughts to happier topics for the rest of the journey.”
“Er, speaking of which,” murmured Charlotte, “have the Weasels told you about their plans for Harper . . .”
* * *
The next few days passed in another whirlwind of activity.
Wolcott and his family arrived, and the opportunity to reconnect with her long-estranged relatives and introduce them to her loved ones filled Charlotte with profound joy.
Raven and Hawk took their younger cousins under their wing, the playful antics filling the stables with the sounds of merriment.
And the manor house with copious amounts of mud.
Their dear friends—Sheffield, Cordelia, and Henning—were also in residence. . .
And then, all of a sudden, it was the day of the wedding. Charlotte awoke early, her stomach too fluttery to seek anything other than a strong cup of coffee in the breakfast room before retreating to one of the side parlors to complete one last task before dressing for the ceremony.
“Charlotte?” The dowager poked her head into the room an hour later and let out an exasperated huff. “Good heavens, gel, what are you doing? You should be upstairs dressing!”
“Yes, yes, in a moment,” she replied. “I’ve just finished.”
“Finished what?” demanded Alison.
“A. J. Quill could hardly pass up the opportunity to satirize the infamous Earl of Wrexford’s wedding.” Charlotte made a wry face. “Besides, I owe it to Mr. Fores not to let James Gillray steal all the profits of making the public laugh.”
The dowager crossed the carpet in a flash to take a look at the just-completed drawing . . . and let out a peal of laughter.
“At last!” she chortled. “Thank you, my dear! How delightful to have finally merited a caricature from the pen of A. J. Quill.”
Charlotte had debated how to deal with the subject. She wasn’t about to reveal the intimate details of the ceremony—the guests, the decorative flowers, the wedding breakfast. However, in a flash of inspiration, she had come up with the perfect way to entertain the public.
The drawing depicted the dowager, known throughout the beau monde as The Dragon, waving her cane and breathing fire at Wrexford, who was cowering behind his new bride.
The caption, boldly lettered above the flames roaring out of Alison’s mouth, warned that she would roast his cods to a crisp if he ever displeased her great-niece.
Raven and Hawk, who had been eavesdropping in the corridor, darted in to take a look for themselves.
A snigger sounded from Raven. “I don’t mean to shock you, Aunt Alison, but that’s a very unladylike word coming out of your mouth.”
“My dear Weasel, I know exactly what cods means,” replied the dowager primly. “Indeed, I daresay, I know far more bad words than you do.”
Raven looked insulted. “Ha! I bet you don’t!”
“Let us not put that wager to the test,” said Charlotte as she quickly rolled up the drawing in a protective piece of oilcloth and held it out to Raven. “A special messenger is waiting for this in the kitchen. He needs to leave without delay.”
As the boys scampered off, Alison fixed her with a martial look. “And now, my dear, off you go to begin preparing for your march down the aisle.”
* * *
The march went off without a hitch, though there were a few tense moments when Skinny forgot to stomp the horse dung off his boots and was about to step into the chapel.
But Alice the Eel Girl quickly corrected the oversight, and the only fragrance wafting down the aisle was that of Hawk’s beautiful floral bouquets.
As for the bride, Wrexford felt his breath catch in his throat as he turned and saw Charlotte’s radiant smile.
Love. His heartbeat quickened and its pulse seemed to thrum against the ancient stones and bring them alive with a golden glow.
“I do,” said Charlotte softly in response to the chaplain.
And that was that—they were now man and wife.
The wedding breakfast was a gloriously festive affair. With all the laughter and champagne, nobody—save for Charlotte—noticed Harper had wolfed down half a platter of sliced ham that Hawk surreptitiously placed under the table.
She made a wry face and drew Wrexford through the open French doors and out to the terrace. “I fear that the Weasels are going to plead with you to let the hound come back to London with us.”
“Our townhouse is already adding new residents,” he drawled. “The more the merrier.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
Chuckling, he took her arm and led her down the steps and into the gardens. They walked for a bit in companionable silence, the sounds of celebration giving way to the gentle flutter of the leaves in the breeze.
“You look pensive,” he murmured after slanting a glance at her profile.
“There is much to think on,” she said. “So many things are about to change.”
“For the better, I trust.” Wrexford smiled. “Think of our marriage as opening up a whole new realm of adventures.”
“I daresay, we get into enough trouble as it is.” Charlotte slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. “However, since you put it that way, I can hardly wait to see what intriguing things are going to unfold.”
A laugh, low and husky, tickled against her cheek. “Well, then, let us start exploring our future. Heaven only knows what lies ahead . . .” He swept her up into his arms. “However, there’s one certainty—whatever adventures come our way, we shall be facing them together.”