Chapter 37
“Wherein knots are tied, to everyone’s satisfaction.”
“What do you think?” Henri turned and looked at Annie. Her own nerves were all a flutter, dancing between excitement and anxiety but the teary fondness in her maid’s expression put her mind at rest.
“Oh, ye do look a picture,” Annie said, clutching a lacy hanky and sniffing. “I’m so proud of ye, Henri. T’is like yer my own girl.”
“Oh, Annie.” Henri ran to her and hugged her tight. “And are you sure you don’t mind coming to France with us? I know it will be all new and strange, and there is the language to deal with but ... oh, dear, I don’t think I can do it without you.”
Annie yelped and waved her hanky. “Oh, stop, miss, ye’ll ‘ave me bawlin’ if ye carry on. Course I’m goin’ with ye. Keep me away - see if ye can!” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “Besides,” she added with a sly grin and a wink. “Mousy’s goin’ too.”
Henri grinned as Annie laughed and did a comical little dance on the spot. “Oh, did he kiss you yet, Annie?”
Annie halted her little celebration and huffed with annoyance, shaking her head. “No! The great lummox is shy,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “But don’t ye worry, I intend to take matter into me own ‘ands tonight.”
Giggling, Henri couldn’t but help feel a little sorry for Mousy, who had no idea what he was in for. “What are you going to do?” she asked, wide-eyed.
Annie pursed her lips and then shook her head. “Ye not be married yet, lass. I’ll tell ye in a week or two.” And with another wink and a naughty smile on her lips, Annie went to fetch her veil.
Henri turned back to her reflection and sighed.
She felt quite perfectly, deliriously happy.
Smoothing down the heavy, dove grey satin, she turned this way and that.
It was embroidered around the hem, the bodice and the cuffs with a flowery motif in silver thread that caught the light as she turned.
“E’ll be struck dumb, ye look such a beauty,” Annie said, smiling at her and pinning the fine lace veil in place. She took Henri’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Come on then, my little duck, best go an’ marry that pirate, eh?”
***
In a beautiful little village, lost in the trees between the rivers Truro and Fal and at the gates of the vast Tregothnan estate, stood the ancient thirteenth century church of St Mawgan.
And by the time Henri walked towards it on her father’s arm she could hardly breathe, such was her excitement.
Though she was not alone in this as she looked upon the people of the village who lined the streets now, smiling at her broadly and offering encouraging words, some of which might have put her to the blush if she hadn’t heard far worse from Annie.
The wedding was to be a small affair, but because of the story put about by Alex, one that fascinated the locals.
The story of his Lordship’s brother being found alive and well, after being captured by the French and losing his memory as a result of his injuries, was one that had been taken up, told, retold and embellished.
This had been achieved with a little help from those of the brethren that had lived here all their lives, and some of the recent incomers who had decided to settle and find work on his lordship’s estate.
Henri knew Lawrence had found his warm welcome hard to bear, knowing the truth of his history, but Alex had been steadfast in insisting this was how it must be done.
The idea that the reward money that Alex had received upon bringing the Rogue to justice would be used to do good and help those families who needed it most was the only thing that had eased his conscience enough to allow him to show his face about before the wedding.
Indeed, Lawrence was not the only one with a guilty conscience.
Upon returning home, Henri had begun to see she had wilfully believed much ill of the Earl of Falmouth, when indeed the poorest of the parish held him in the highest esteem.
His womanising and rakish reputation may forever bar him from such hallowed ground as Almack’s and make him a man mothers warned their daughters of, but it was of little interest to the parish.
The good he did for those who had nothing, the endeavours he made to improve the life of those on his estate and beyond, all spoke far more of the man than any idle gossip in their eyes, which was how it ought to be.
Her father paused as they reached the little gates that led through the graveyard and onto the lovely old church.
“You’re quite sure about this, my dear?”
For the first time since this affair began Henri detected the faintest glimmer of doubt in Lord Morton’s eyes.
Her father was still perplexed by everything that had gone on, but not being one to think on things too deeply if they did not concern his own comfort, he had accepted Henri’s glib explanation of her rescue from the devilish Rogue by her then fiancé.
He had also taken to heart everyone’s delight in her marrying said fiancé’s younger brother with a benign, if slightly puzzled countenance.
Happily, her father was not to be swayed against the earl, despite the tales of debauchery and vice that he’d heard had been the reason for Henri not wedding him.
With amusement Henri discovered that he had indeed been well aware of the earl’s tarnished reputation, the stories of the man’s many mistresses and scandalous love affairs being well known to him.
On asking, out of curiosity, if he had been at all concerned about marrying her to such a man her father had simply looked puzzled.
“But he’s an earl, my dear,” was all the reply she was given, as if this would excuse the devil himself from any wrongdoing.
As far as her father was concerned, the earl had returned his daughter to him, and paid off all his debts and so could do no wrong. In her less charitable moments Henri wondered which one of those facts tilted the scales furthest in the earl’s favour.
The tale of her abduction had thankfully been kept quiet and now no one else was any the wiser of anything but the fact that she was now marrying the earl’s younger brother, rather than the earl.
Henri patted her father’s hand and gave him a reassuring smile which quite chased away any inconvenient paternal concern he might belatedly be assailed by.
“Quite sure, papa,” she said, replying to her father’s question. “I do love him you see.”
Her father sighed and smiled, quite happy to see his daughter wed a man she truly loved, especially as the earl had been so very generous as to keep to their original agreement and still pay him a generous stipend.
Though when her father had remarked that it “should keep the wolf from the door,” he had been puzzled as to why Henri and Annie had been taken by a fit of hysteria and had been forced to leave the room and take some air before they could calm themselves.
Tales of the Loup de Mer were widespread, though, and despite their best efforts, he seemed to evade the militia’s attempts to entrap him at every turn.
Henri entered the church and felt her heart lift as she looked to see Lawrence standing waiting for her.
His eyes widened on seeing her, his expression one that made her heart swell, and then he smiled that charismatic, slightly piratical smile that made that excitable organ beat frenetically, and Henri wanted to run, rather than walk demurely down the aisle towards him.
“Ready?” her father asked, smiling at her fondly.
“Yes. Absolutely, completely and without a doubt in my mind,” she said, beaming in return and walking to stand beside the gorgeous figure of the man about to become her husband.
Any doubts she may have harboured, that Lawrence had wanted to stay simply to reclaim his old life, rather than for her, were forever dispelled by the look in his eyes as she came to stand next to him.
The blue eyes were alight, dancing merrily with such love and happiness she felt a lump in her throat.
Thank God, she thought, for that chance encounter, for the loss of a letter, and her foolish decision to blackmail The Rogue.
***
Lawrence looked about the room and couldn’t help but smile.
It was perhaps a rather unconventional wedding breakfast, but then the earl had long since been considered a rather wild and eccentric figure, so it was not so very extraordinary that his younger brother should likewise buck convention.
He had to admit that some of the guests were a rum looking lot, and he noted with amusement the rather anxious and scandalised looks being cast by their disapproving Aunt Seymour and bewildered Aunt Dotty, as some of the more boisterous guests made their way through the Champagne.
He had expected to feel at least a slight sense of regret for the loss of his freedom but whenever he looked upon the dazzling face of his new wife, all he could feel was wonder.
That life had somehow contrived to give him a second chance was beyond anything he had ever dared to hope for, and that he would be given that chance with Henri beside him made his chest grow tight with unexpected emotion.
In fact, he seemed quite unable to remove the ridiculous smile that had been on his face since the moment he’d laid eyes on the vision of his bride to be as she entered the church and had stolen his breath.
So, he simply watched as his beautiful wife laughed and spoke animatedly with everyone around them and tried hard to rein in his impatient desire to grab her by the hand and get to what he considered the most important part of the wedding.
Her dress might be lovely, and her hair exquisitely coiffed, but all he wanted was to divest her of every stitch with all haste and have her hair spilling freely over the pillows in a delightful disarray.
He was forced to put such happy thoughts aside for a moment, however, as his brother walked over to sit beside him.