Chapter Twenty-Three #3
“But, dearest, you are to have me, despite all the warnings to do otherwise,” she reminded him.
“You do understand that life with me will not always be what you expect?” he asked. “It may, upon occasion, be uncomfortable.”
“You cannot believe I am the type of woman who desires comfort, are you? Oh, my dearest Aaran, do you not understand, with you, I feel so alive. After nearly one and twenty years of constant comfortable dullness and ‘perfection’ in living reasonably, you are all for which I could ask.”
As if to prove her words, Freya captured his head between her hands and kissed him repeatedly. “At last…” she whispered, while he said, “Forever.”
The week had passed faster than Freya had thought possible.
Lady Theodora had been invaluable in organizing the necessary suppers and allocating quarters for all involved.
Lords Thompson and Marksman had only been in London for a few days, which took much of the pressure off Lady Victoria, who had never hosted such a grand event.
At last, Lords Duncan, Orson, and Beaufort returned with Lady Emma in tow.
Aaran returned in late morning, while the Cunninghams and the Dickersons arrived in midafternoon on Saturday.
Though Freya was glad to have her family present, Dickerson, and, therefore, Imelda, appeared uncomfortable, which also made Freya uncomfortable.
Nevertheless, they had all managed to survive both Saturday’s supper and Sunday’s church services.
Then Monday finally made its appearance.
It was a bit cool, but it was obvious that winter was retreating, and all for which Freya cared was that it was perfect weather for a wedding.
From the second-story bedchamber she had been assigned, she could view the circle before the manor house, where her father’s barouche awaited her.
Pulled by four perfectly matched horses, the carriage had been festooned with white satin ribbons.
“Lady Emma’s touch,” Freya murmured with a smile.
Her father had declared the carriage, “Fit for a bride,” which was his way of saying, he would learn to accept Lord Graham, even learn to live a different type of life than he had for the last twenty years.
Freya hoped he and her mother had come to some understanding since they had arrived at Thom Manor nine days prior.
Freya had been quite surprised by a letter from Aaran that described how Lord Iain Cunningham had taken on the protection of her name in this business with Aaran’s mother, Lady Rayland, and Mr. MacAlasdair.
Aaran reported that her father had told everyone who listened of how he had thought Lady Rayland’s quick marriage to Lord Rayland had smelt of an injustice, long before he had been proven correct.
Reportedly, Lord Rayland had made a quick exit from London and had retreated to his estate, where he was accepting no visitors.
A soft knock sounded at the door, but before the maid could respond, Freya’s new sisters streamed through the door.
“It is time,” Lady Emma declared before she stumbled to a halt. “Oh, my, Madame Emmeline outdid herself. I wish all the ton could view you in that magnificent gown!”
Freya giggled. “I am nervous enough with friends watching me. I cannot imagine a ton wedding.”
“Your father awaits you below,” Lady Victoria told her. “The rest of your guests have left for the church.”
“My mother?” Freya asked, knowing her mother had been more nervous than was she, if that was possible.
“Lord Thompson’s mother has assumed those duties. Mrs. Thompson is quite a calming soul when others require her.”
Lady Emma, looking absolutely like a walking goddess in a pale sky-blue silk with a white lace overdress, handed Freya a jewelry box. “From Lord Graham.”
“Another gift?” Freya remarked as she accepted the small box.
“I fear you must become accustomed to your husband treasuring you,” Lady Annalise said with a smile. “Graham is always quite thoughtful.”
“Open it,” Lady Victoria encouraged.
With shaking hands, Freya worked the lid free of the box.
Inside the silver paper was a brooch of pure unadorned polished gold.
It consisted of three interlocking circles.
Engraved on the back of two of the circles were their names.
“Aaran” on the circle on the left, and “Freya” on the right loop.
The center one read “Joined Forever” and included today’s date.
Dashing away the tears which threatened to spill down her cheeks, Freya permitted Lady Emma to pin the brooch at the waist of the sash draped across her shoulder.
“May I, my lady?” her maid asked.
Freya giggled. “Of course.” The maid added the last of the small white rosebuds to Freya’s hair.
Glancing one last time in the tall, free-standing looking glass, Freya saw her reflection staring back at her. For a moment, no one spoke and a memory was filed away to treasure forever. Finally, when Freya turned, they were all smiling at her.
“Welcome to the family, Freya,” Lady Annalise said softly, and the others chorused, “Welcome.”
“We are complete,” Lady Theodora declared. “My mother must be doing a Scottish fling in Heaven. This was her wish for me and all her sons.”
“We shall drink a toast to Lady Elsbeth Duncan this evening,” Lady Emma declared. “For now, Graham has likely worn a groove in the church floor in anticipation. Let us put His Lordship out of his misery.”