Chapter 19
A Proper Foundation
“If you touch that cravat one more time, I shall throw you through that lovely stained-glass window before us and to the devil with the consequences,” Damian growled irritably.
“You’ve done it up too tight. I can’t bloody breathe,” Gideon complained, resisting the urge to tug at it again, for Damian did look like he was losing patience.
Though, come to think of it, perhaps his lack of breath might have something to do with the rate at which his heart was hammering in his chest.
Gideon fought and lost the urge to fidget, turning to Damian once more. “What time is it?”
“Still half past ten.”
“Bloody hell.”
Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is there some unwritten rule I have never heard of that insists prospective bridegrooms turn into witless idiots?” he demanded.
“Yes, probably,” Gideon replied crossly, and then stilled, for she was there, in the doorway of the church.
The sunshine that had deigned to brighten their day backlit her, and she simply glowed.
There were no explosions of colour today, no rainbows surrounding her, but a golden light that put him in mind of angels and holy visitations.
She was hardly an angelic sort of girl, he knew, but she was a miracle of sorts, and he held his breath as she made the way down the aisle to him, praying he would not wake up.
The Duke of Hawkney had agreed to stand in for her father and walk her down the aisle, though he’d not been the least bit happy about it.
His grandmother, however, had blackmailed the poor fellow, telling him that when the scandal broke, he could choose to support her, or the Duke of Langley, but not both.
Not being a fool, Hawkney had sided with his grandmother.
That didn’t mean he was pleased about it.
Hetty didn’t care, clearly, for her smile lit up the entire church to such a degree that even Hawkney looked amused and a degree less frosty than one might have expected.
“Congratulations, Deon,” Damian whispered as Hetty drew near.
Gideon could not look away from his prospective bride, but he smiled, a ridiculous smile that began so deep in his heart only the smallest portion of it was visible. “Thank you, Damian. I owe you a great debt.”
Damian snorted. “And don’t you forget it.”
Gideon watched with his heart still hammering as Hetty lifted her veil and turned to look at him. He took her hand as though he stood on the precipice of something grand and marvellous, holding on for dear life. It was a sensation he expected to feel often during their future together.
They all turned their attention to the Reverend Honeywell, whose face lit as he regarded the small gathering around him.
“Dearly beloved—”
Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 11th August 1816
A great cheer went up as Hetty and Gideon thrust the knife into the beautiful bride cake, a splendid confection that Gee-Gee’s French chef had outdone himself with.
Gideon still had the strangest sensation that he was living in a dream, but the day had been so wonderful it was hard to believe it was really happening.
“Congratulations, my dears,” Grandmama said, bustling up and allowing Gideon to kiss her cheek.
“Oh, I am so happy for you, and I cannot wait to tell your father. Gideon, be a dear fellow and don’t put the announcement in the papers for a day or two.
I want to tell him myself,” she said with undisguised glee, returning a touch unsteadily to her place at the table.
“She’s had rather a lot of champagne,” Hetty murmured apologetically.
“She’s as wicked as you are,” he remarked with a low laugh.
Hetty smiled at him a little sadly. “I know, but Papa does rather deserve it, I’m afraid.”
Gideon turned to look at her, wondering how the man could be such a blind fool.
He had long understood that her father was a hard man, an unloving father, and he found he pitied the fellow now.
If he should be so fortunate as to have a daughter like Hetty, he would relish every moment with her and leave her in no doubt of his love for her, even if she gave him fresh reasons for heart failure every day.
With a jolt, he realised that if they did have a daughter, this was all too likely.
He gave a slightly hysterical bark of laughter.
Hetty shot a concerned look at him. “What’s wrong?”
Gideon shook his head. “Too much champagne,” he said dryly and took her hand. “Do you think it safe to leave yet?”
“Perhaps, but—oh, we must speak to Gee-Gee, she’s coming over now.”
Gideon bowed deeply as the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney approached them. He rather liked the sharp-tongued old lady, but she still made him nervous.
“Your grace, thank you so much for allowing us to celebrate our marriage in such a beautiful location,” he said politely.
“And where else would you celebrate it?” she said tartly, and then softened, reaching out and patting his arm, smiling fondly at Hetty.
“And I am delighted to see such a happy event under my roof. Besides, Helena is delighted, and I have not seen her so pleased in an age. I also believe you will deal nicely together, even if it is not always calm seas, eh, Hetty?” she remarked, chucking her under the chin and then retreating with a merry little cackle of laughter.
“Well, that was ominous,” Gideon said with a frown.
“Oh, don’t be silly, it’s no more than you expect, I’m sure.” Hetty grinned at him, surveying the room with interest. “Howard is bringing more champagne, I vote we run now, before they begin toasting us again,” she said, giving his sleeve an urgent little tug.
“Seconded,” Gideon replied earnestly, guiding her out of the room.
They had almost made it to the door when a sardonic voice reached them.
“You cannot possibly expect your bride to spend her wedding night in that vile little room over a cheese shop, for the love of God.”
Gideon turned to see his brother lounging indolently against the staircase. Hetty glowered a little.
“I’m rather looking forward to it,” she said stoutly. “I think it’s… snug.”
Damian rolled his eyes and tossed something at Gideon, who caught it instinctively. “The keys to my rooms at The Mermaid. I’ve had my man move everything about and the staff were most accommodating. I’ll take the hovel. Consider it a wedding gift.”
Gideon stared at him. He had never known Damian to give up his own comfort for the sake of another, but then, Damian was doing a lot of unexpected things these days, and not the kind that made him want to tear his hair out.
“I don’t know what to say. That’s… that’s very thoughtful of you, Damian.” He turned to Hetty, who smiled, understanding what the gesture meant to him.
“I truly was looking forward to the cheese shop rooms, for it would have been something, er… different, but this… this is wonderful, and so very kind. Thank you, Damian.”
Gideon hid a smile as Damian registered the use of his first name and then stiffened as Hetty ran up and kissed him on the cheek. “I have another brother,” she said cheerfully.
Damian scowled. “You may keep that great hulking brute you call a brother away from me,” he said gruffly, but Gideon thought perhaps there was a tinge of colour at Damian’s cheeks.
“You can’t disown her now, Damian, sorry. She’s family, too. One great big happy family,” he said, wagging his eyebrows dramatically.
“Ugh,” Damian said in disgust, and stalked off.
“He loves me,” Hetty said with a happy sigh before taking Gideon’s arm.
Gideon laughed. “It comes to us all in the end.” And with that, he escorted his bride to their lovely rooms at the finest—for the moment—hotel in Little Valentine.
The Mermaid Hotel, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 11th August 1816
Hetty sat in the lavish bed, surrounded by pristine, white, fluffy pillows, and toyed nervously with the ribbon ties on the rather provocative nightgown she’d bought at Madame Auguste’s.
The stylish Frenchwoman had assured Hetty it was the kind of thing to make a new husband thank his lucky stars and fall to his knees in gratitude.
She slid a hand over the cool silk, imagining it was Gideon’s hand that touched her, and shivered.
The nightgown was a rich, ruby red and lavishly trimmed with lace.
The plunging neckline revealed more than it hid but pretended modesty with a few little ribbons that drew the eye rather than distracted it.
When her Grandmama had seen the contents of her hastily gathered trousseau, the nightgown had shocked her dreadfully, which Hetty decided had to be a good thing.
Jenkins too had been utterly scandalised but had also conceded she looked very well in it, which was reassuring.
Hetty was uncertain she wanted quite such a dramatic reaction as Gideon falling to his knees, but she had to admit that she did wish to impress him
She realised she had wished to impress him from the moment they had met and he had provoked her by refusing to dance.
He had seemed so very different from all the idle aristocrats moving about the ballroom with practised ease.
Gideon had been all sharp edges, on his guard, and as alert as a hunting dog compared to the artfully jaded men around him.
In short, he had been entirely himself and Hetty had been drawn to him despite the fact he clearly wanted nothing to do with her. No—because he wanted nothing to do with her, she amended with a smile.
Sighing, she glanced at the clock. Gideon had given her an hour to bathe and ready herself, thoughtfully sending up a plateful of little delicacies for her to nibble on while she waited.
He had noticed she had eaten nothing at the wedding breakfast, although the food had looked mouthwatering. She had been far too nervous.
She was less nervous now and more impatient; she realised. Her mind burned with the memory of their all too brief interlude on the beach, and she was eager to learn more. Hetty did not doubt that Gideon would be a marvellous teacher.