Chapter 8
“She is here.” There was an odd note in Percival’s voice that Theodore could not quite place.
At least, until he turned around. His eyes drifted over Lady Fiona, Lady Louisa and Duchess Catherine, he inclined his head to them as they approached. But he barely noticed them.
His eyes were for Harriet, and Harriet alone. The sunlight streaming through the church window caught in her brown hair making it look like silk. He had known she was pretty, but this was something else.
She looked like a goddess brought to life.
The faint worry in her eyes made the shades of green seem to shift, like leaves in a sudden wind—then she met his gaze, and the shifting green, turned bright and warm like morning sun breaking through a forest teeming with life; a jolt ran through his body.
His mouth was bone dry, the very air around him seemed to hum with anticipation, but he could not tear his eyes away.
“She is radiant.” He muttered under his breath. His stance shifted as though to move towards her. He felt a hand on his arm, and knew it was Percival.
When Harriet smiled, he thought it would split him in two. A deep, dark hunger sprang to life in his chest. He straightened, standing taller, rolling his shoulders back.
The closer she got, the more he felt like a tightly wound spring. He flexed and clenched his fingers, trying to wrestle with the beast roaring in his chest.
She was beside him. “You look beautiful.” The words seemed wholly inadequate as he said them, but she smiled.
“Thank you.” She shifted and the smell of her bouquet drifted to him, mingling with honey and cinnamon.
Dimly he realized that the priest had begun speaking and shook himself, trying to force his attention back to the man. His eyes kept drifting to Harriet.
I should have prepared for this. But how? He had not expected her to arrive looking like this. He heard the priest clear his throat and blinked as the man directed his eyes pointedly at the book of prayer.
Focus. “I will.” He felt Percival’s breath tickle his skin as he whispered into his ear.
Grateful he could not see his friend’s face, Theodore repeated the words. He felt Harriet shift beside him, heard her answer. “I will.”
He turned to face her, watching as the priest took her hand in his wizened one, directing it towards Theodore’s which he held in his other hand.
Her skin was warm against his, sending heat radiating through him.
He swallowed, wishing his mouth were not so dry.
He cleared his throat. “I, Theodore Langford, Duke of Irondale, take thee Lady Harriet Montrose to my wedded wife.” His voice was hoarse, but he was grateful that it was at least steady.
He cleared his throat again as he continued. “to have and to hold from this day forward…”
He thought he saw her eyes widen at his words, but it must have been a trick of the light. He spoke his vows letting his words echo around the church.
“I, Lady Harriet Montrose, take thee, Theodore Langford, Duke of Irondale to my wedded husband.” Harriet’s voice was crisp and clear.
As she spoke, Theodore felt her fingers shift in his hand as though she were trying to tap against his palm. He loosened his grip, noticing how she straightened, standing as tall as a queen as she continued to speak her vows.
They released hands and he felt the cool metal of her gold wedding ring as Percival pressed it into his palm. He slipped it onto her delicate finger as easily as if he had been practicing for it his entire life.
“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship,” he felt her skin flush as he spoke these words and was grateful that the tips of his ears were hidden by his top hat. “and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”
He could feel his blood thundering through his body, or perhaps it was her own blood he felt against his hands. He did not know.
As the ceremony ended, he held an arm out to her automatically, feeling the same heat rush through him as she linked her arm through his. He helped her into the carriage that would take them to the wedding breakfast, and felt the warmth of her hand even after she had let him go.
I have to get under control. The door slammed shut and he let out a long, slow breath. Harriet did as well, leaning back against her seat and tugging on one of the locks of hair that framed her face.
“I am sorry that Phoebe could not join us.” She tilted her head at him.
“As I said, I did not expect her to attend. Though she was grateful to receive your invitation.” His voice was gruff.
In truth, he had no idea how Phoebe had felt about the invitation. She had said nothing when he had told her, simply clutched one of Harriet’s sketches to her chest and shook her head.
“Perhaps in time she might feel more confident with such things.” Harriet tapped her fingers against the seat beside her absently.
“I suppose a wedding is rather a big thing to start with. Perhaps we could start smaller? Maybe have Catherine and the Duke come visit with Oliver? He is about the same age as Phoebe and a sweet boy. Ideally, we would be able to find her another little girl to play with, but at this age, I suppose it does not matter quite so much.”
Theodore leaned away from Harriet, his eyes narrowing as he tried to work out what she was doing. She continued speaking, her speed increasing with every word.
“Though maybe it would be better for me to get settled in. understand the house, the staff, all of that sort of thing. Though if you think it would be better to be a little more forthright that might be better or maybe we could all three of us spend some time together.” She was looking at the floor.
“Are you nervous?” he asked as understanding dawned on him belatedly. “Harriet?”
The feel of her name in his mouth sent a rush through him that he did not understand. Harriet looked up at the sound of her name, faint spots of color on her cheeks as she met his gaze.
“I… I just want to make a good impression.” Harriet twined her fingers together in her lip. “I want you to know that I am taking this seriously.”
“Have I given you cause to doubt that?” He frowned at her.
“I… You… You are being rather quieter than I expected.” Harriet was flicking her fingers again. “I thought perhaps I had upset you.”
“You have not,” Theodore said firmly. It is the opposite of that.
“Good.” He saw the muscles in her throat convulse and felt his stomach twist and turn.
Silence drifted between them. Theodore searched for something to say. He wondered if all her dresses would look like this one.
“That would not be practical, at least not for everyday use.” Harriet’s answer made him realize that he had spoken aloud.
“Most of what I ordered was practical, with one or two ball gowns, though I will have to return to London to pick them up. I did not get the impression you were planning on going to any such things any time soon and in truth, I can find them a little overwhelming. Though I do not hate them. I expect I will wear this again on occasion, it would be a waste to wear it only for one day.”
“I see.” Theodore tugged at his cravat. Her nerves are oddly endearing.
Harriet was twirling the fabric of her dress between her fingers.
“I do not like waste. I know that one must keep up appearances, but I have much preferred to alter my dresses rather than buy entirely new ones. At the very least, I like to adapt them so that they might be more appropriate for day wear rather than evening wear.”
“And you make all of these changes yourself I take it?” Theodore’s eyes drifted across Harriet, and he wondered if it was her hand that had embroidered the intricate designs on the sleeves.
He saw her fingers twitch, running across the thread. “I did, yes. I appreciate that perhaps it might not be up to your standards, but I wanted….”
Theodore cursed inwardly, though his irritation at his second slip of the tongue faded as he realized that Harriet had stiffened, her nervous smile replaced by an abashed expression.
He felt something in himself soften as understanding dawned on him.
“You wanted something of you to be in the dress?”
Her eyes widened, hands tightening in the fabric of her dress and Theodore knew he had guessed right. He felt a flush of pleasure run through him followed closely by a stab of confusion. Control. I must regain control.
“Yes.” Harriet’s words turned him towards her. “It felt important.”
“Why?” he asked surprising himself.
Harriet’s eyes searched his face and Theodore felt as though Harriet was a doe confronted by an unknown animal, trying to work out if it was predator or friend. He waited for her to flinch away as most people did, but to his surprise she did not.
“I am not entirely sure.” She tapped an elegant finger against her lips, and the sight made his heart skip several beats, though he kept it from his face. “I suppose we shall have to wait and see.”
“Are you usually so cryptic?” Theodore arched an eyebrow at her, folding his arms across his chest.
“I am not trying to be mysterious, simply truthful.” Harriet’s cheeks flushed and Theodore heard the irritation in her voice, her eyes widening as though she was surprised by her own answer.
“I did not mean to suggest you were being deliberately obstructive.” The corner of Theodore’s lip threatened to quirk into a smile but he forced it to remain in place, unsure why he found her irritation so charming.
“In our previous meeting you did not strike me as the sort of woman to revel in mystery for mystery’s sake – I was surprised. That is all.”
“Oh.” Harriet looked mollified as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, still not looking away from him. “I am sorry. I should not have been so short with you. It was unfair of me… I just… I do not like feeling as though someone does not believe me.”
“So I am learning.” He noticed her tapping her foot against the floor of the carriage as they trundled along. “You are still nervous.”