Chapter 18 #2
When it was her turn, Charity softened her gaze, letting both her expression and her words convey her love.
They had already seen the worst and had come through to where they now stood.
When she reached the end of her vows, she strengthened her voice and squeezed Perry’s hands.
“From this day forward, I promise to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part.”
At the Archbishop’s behest, Peregrine pulled a small velvet bag from his jacket pocket, untying it to spill a gold band into his palm.
The ring was simple, but it clearly wasn’t new.
Its surface was worn with age. There was a story to this ring, but Charity didn’t know what it was other than that Perry must have asked Thorne to bring it over from the estate.
The golden surface glinted as he slid it onto her finger. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” His voice caught faintly on worship, and Charity’s breath hitched, her cheeks warming.
The Archbishop carried on, lifting his hands as his words echoed through the chapel. “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”
A stillness followed, a moment suspended in time. Charity felt Perry’s heated gaze on her and saw the wonder shining there. This moment was real. She was real. This was not some dream from which he would awake.
Charity turned her gaze up to Perry, and she saw not only the man she loved but the life they would forge together—hard won, but theirs. Perry’s arm circled her, drawing her close. For one shining moment, the Chapel Royal was no royal sanctum but a sacred space where only two hearts existed.
When at last they turned to face their witnesses, the Queen and Prinny inclined their heads in silent approval. Ravenscroft muttered something suspiciously like “about time.” Selina’s gaze softened, just for an instant, while Thorne’s friendly gaze lingered on them both.
But all of it faded. The candlelight, the chapel, even the presence of sovereign and friends. For Charity, there was only Perry at her side, solid and sure.
Husband and wife, forevermore.
They celebrated the occasion all together, enjoying fine champagne from the royal cellars.
A footman worked the cork with a practised twist until it gave a sharp pop.
Charity startled at the sound, then laughed softly, pressing her hand against Perry’s arm as the golden liquid fizzed into shallow crystal glasses.
Glasses were distributed, and it was Prinny who raised his first. “I cannot imagine why any man would willingly race into matrimony,” he declared with mock solemnity, his eyes glittering.
“Most of my family have spent their lives avoiding it, and those of us who have succumbed—” he gave a theatrical shudder— “have regretted it ever since. Yet, since you two seem determined to defy my understanding, I am glad enough to have been here to see it done. To the bride and groom.”
Ravenscroft gave a dry bark of laughter and raised his glass after him. “Well said. And Fitzroy, your labours to prove your worth have just begun. Her Grace deserves perfection. You, alas, are merely… you. May she never grow tired of whipping you into a finer form.”
Peregrine chuckled, not offended.
“It is ‘my lady’ now,” Charity reminded Prinny’s magpie tartly. “Not ‘Your Grace.’ It seems I will have to keep both of you in line.”
Selina coughed to cover her laugh at Charity’s friendly reprimand. “You have challenges enough without taking on the burden of Lord Ravenscroft. Come, let us leave the men to their talk. Her Majesty and I would like a word.”
The Queen had moved away from the group to rest upon a padded chair. She motioned for Charity and Selina to join her.
Queen Charlotte turned to Charity then, her lined face testifying to her years as monarch.
“It seems that it falls to me to provide you with a mother’s blessing.
So this I shall say. The world will demand duty of you until your bones are weary.
Take your happiness where you may, and guard it jealously.
You may have already learned this lesson, but do not forget it. ”
Charity’s throat grew tight as she recognised the kindness of the Queen’s words when her own mother was absent. “I will forever treasure your sage advice, Your Majesty.”
“When you make your departure, you will be in the company of palace guards. They will escort you to where you will stay for the night.”
“My lodge,” Selina added. “It is on a quiet lane in Richmond. Easily protected and very private.”
“Come now,” the Queen said, rising from her chair. “Prinny and I are expected at our next event. But enjoy one last drink with the others before you go on your way.”
The royal family left, and Charity gripped Selina’s hand in quiet thanks for her generosity before she floated across the chamber to where Perry stood. With just the five of them there, he let his arm settle at her waist, drawing her close to him.
It felt right. It felt like family, as they bickered fondly and laughed and exchanged small gestures of affection.
Finally, Thorne cleared his throat. He still looked faintly uncomfortable to be the centre of attention, even in their close-knit group, but he lifted his glass.
“I’ve no polish to my words, but I’ll say this.
On the field of battle, fights are not won by strength alone, but by trust. And for over ten years of my life, my brother showed me that love is the bravest kind of trust. It makes all obstacles less impossible, because you never have to face things alone.
We are all in this battle together; if you find yourself in need, never forget to lean on one another, and on us. ”
“Hear, hear,” they all said in reply, and clinked their glasses together. Then Peregrine reached over and gripped Thorne’s shoulder in silent thanks.
A hush followed, more profound than any sermon. Charity blinked back tears, wrapping her hand around her waist, seeking Perry’s where he kept her close. When their fingers twined, the warmth of his touch was the sweetest toast of all.
The inside of Selina's lodge was simple and well-kept.
Once they alighted from the carriage and entered, they found a narrow hall, wood-panelled walls, and the sound of a fire crackling somewhere within.
Peregrine dismissed the pair of servants inside immediately, telling them they would not be needed until the next day.
The footman nodded knowingly, but the maid looked a trifle put out until Charity added her agreement.
Finally they were alone, and Perry caught her hand and pulled her close, burying his nose in the scent of orange at her neck. “You wear the perfume still. Are you filled with joy, Sparkles?”
She adored that he remembered those words.
That orange blossom stood for that sweet, innocent jubilance.
Though her cheeks already hurt from smiling so much tonight, her grin grew wider.
“Joyful, yes—but my clever husband would not be content with that. Surely you mean to prove how much happier you can make me.”
Peregrine let out a low growl against her neck, pulling her close. “Say that again.”
She knew what he wanted to hear. Warmth suffused every part of her body, making her as likely to catch fire as the fuel in the hearth. “My husband,” she murmured throatily into his ear, stroking her cheek against his.
A table in the drawing room stood ready with wine and fruit. But Peregrine ignored it, scooping her into his arms and carrying her past it all, across the threshold to the bedroom where through the open door Charity saw the edge of a bed draped in pale hangings.
Her heart beat faster as Peregrine deposited her on the edge of the tall bed, leaning his forehead against hers.
“My lady wife,” he whispered, his voice as smooth as his silken touch on her skin as he rained kisses on her face.
“My heart,” he added, setting his hand over the flutter in her chest. “My joy.”
She laid her hand over his chest as well, letting the quiet of the little lodge wrap around them. Whatever storms lay ahead, tonight they belonged only to each other.
Charity toyed with the knot of his cravat, using it to pull his mouth to hers.
He obliged her, and then deepened the kiss, stealing the air from her lungs and scattering her wits as his hands began to wander.
It wasn’t until he had her first stocking pulled from her foot that he gave her a moment to breathe.
And that was only because it took that long for him to press his lips reverently to her ankle, making her shiver.
“Wait,” she said faintly, after he repeated the action to her other foot. “I want to undress you, too.”
Peregrine paused, amused, since removing her stockings had pushed her skirts to an indecent point around her knees.
But he waited in front of her, his hands resting on her thighs, staring into her eyes as she began to unwind his cravat.
He looked at her with such love that it made her throat hurt, and feeling raw and impatient with it, Charity slipped off the edge of the bed, rapidly undoing the buttons of his coat and yanking free the tail of his shirt.
He nipped at her ear playfully as she gathered the hem, pulling it over his head, and then stood there waiting as she looked and touched her fill, letting her fingers trail over the planes of his shoulders and down the muscles of his stomach.
His bare chest caught the glow of the firelight, broad and solid, each breath lifting beneath her hand.
Reluctantly, her fingers stroked over the ragged red scar of the wound that had nearly taken his life. The new scratch beside it reminded her that their trials were not finished. That he might be stolen from her still.
It wasn’t until her head was tipped up and Peregrine’s lips caught the tear forming at the corner of her eye that she noticed she was crying. “I can wear the shirt,” he said softly, as if the ugliness of the scar was what upset her.
“No,” she said quickly, meeting his gaze so that he would understand. She let her fingertips trace the roughened shape of it lightly. “It is only reminding me how precious life is. It looks like it is finally healing well. Does it hurt?”
His nose was pressed against hers, and they spent a long moment living, breathing each other’s air. “No,” he finally answered her. “But if you keep tickling me like that, Sparkles, I might be pressed to do unto others as they’re currently doing to me.”
A giggle slipped from her lips, and grinning, Peregrine spun her, drawing off her gown and making short work of the laces of her stays. He picked her up and tossed her gently into the centre of the bed, sending up the faint trace of lavender that clung to the sheets.
It was as if all of time was suspended for that night.
There was not even a clock in Selina’s lodge to strike the hour, which suited her just fine.
Charity had no intention of rushing things.
Tonight would be about more than the consummation of their marriage.
She was determined to celebrate their triumph over the forces that had tried to part them.
It was a night for healing all their remaining wounds.
When he joined her in the bed, she revelled in his warm skin, the light down of hair that covered his arms and chest, the quiet strength of a man she never thought she could keep.
They curled together, mouths and hands tracing each other’s shapes as if they truly had all the time in the world to indulge in such explorations.
“I love you,” she whispered, holding his head to her chest, feeling the way his breath feathered against her sternum.
He lifted his face, cupping her jaw with such tenderness that he didn’t even need to say it aloud.
Peregrine’s love for her was writ in his gaze, the curve of his lips as he smiled for her, the touch of his fingers threading through her hair.
And she could sense it in the way their hearts spoke together, breast to breast, as they finally joined together as man and wife.
He was the other half of her soul. Every part of them fit together as if it had been made to.
And so she knew that he loved her with his whole being, because it was impossible to think otherwise. Even if he never uttered the words again, even if she was blind and deaf, she would never doubt it.