Chapter 19
“Here you go, Miss Rowntree,” Abigail said, handing Della a cup of tea. “Sugar and a splash of cream—just how you like it.”
“Thank you, Abigail.”
“My pleasure, Miss Rowntree. Oh! But I should start calling you, Your Grace.”
Della plopped down in the chair closest to her, causing tea to splash over the rim and drip down the side of her hand. Abigail kindly took the cup, handed Della a handkerchief to wipe her hands, and handed the cup back.
“Abigail, could you help me put the finishing touches on her hair?” Maggie asked. “We cannot have Della being late for her own wedding.”
Della sat there patiently and drank her tea, while Maggie and Abigail dashed back and forth across her room, trying to add details she was sure no one would notice.
Amid the hustle, Della realized this would be the last time she would be in her home as an unmarried woman. Soon, she would become the Duchess of Exeter.
Tilly had come to talk to her earlier in the morning before everyone started arriving. Della had expected the discussion would be about what would happen on her wedding night, and her assumption had been correct.
“I will tell you the basics,“ Tilly had said.
A few years ago, Della had been searching the shelves at a bookstore and stumbled upon a plainly bound, unassuming book. Curious, she opened it, and was completely unprepared for what it contained.
It was a picture book with descriptions, and not a picture book for children learning how to read, or how to do needlepoint; it was a book detailing many things couples could engage in.
She probably should have put the book back as soon as she had seen what was inside, but she wanted to know. Some pictures had made her heart race, others had made her blush, and some, well…some she would rather have not known about.
“He will want to…”
Della pretended to listen intently to Tilly’s ‘explanations’ when all she wanted to do was laugh. She knew Tilly had meant well, but after seeing that book, her explanation seemed very chaste and innocent, when the actitself was anything but.
“Beyond that…best let your husband guide you.” Tilly had said.
Della’s stomach was in knots. She had barely eaten anything that had been brought up to her earlier, and it now growled in protest. But she was afraid if she ate something, it might not stay put.
“Finished! Come see for yourself!” Maggie exclaimed.
Della handed her cup back to Abigail as she stood and went to the floor-length mirror. The sight of the woman standing before her left her completely stunned.
“You are a vision!” the Duchess said, sweeping into the room.
“Maggie, Abigail, please make sure the carriages are ready. I would like a quick word with Della.” Once they had left, the Duchess motioned for Della to sit down.
“After Royce told me he was searching for a wife, I tried to introduce him to women I thought might step up to become the duchess he needed. I must admit I was worried when he decided on Miss Putnam so quickly. She was one I was hoping he would not choose, but she was eligible, and the daughter of a viscount, so I could not exclude her.”
Della was unsure why the Duchess felt it was necessary to inform her about the choices she had made for Royce.
From the moment Della had accepted that she was marrying Royce, she had felt like an imposter living in a dream world; a placeholder until the women who was supposed to become Royce’s wife showed up.
But it had not escaped her notice that she had not been one of the women the Duchess had presented to Royce as a suitable choice.
“I am sure you are wondering why I did not suggest you as a choice to Royce,” the Duchess said.
“N-No,” Della stuttered, wondering how the Duchess always seemed to be one step ahead.
“Do not lie to me, Della Rowntree. I can see that very question written in your eyes. The truth of the matter is that I very much wanted to suggest Royce ask you. You know this family inside and out, the family adores you, and I have always thought of you as the best match for him. Even when you both were younger, I could tell you two would be perfect for each other.
“But I know my children—better than they know themselves sometimes, I think. If I had told Royce about my true thoughts on the matter, he would have laughed in my face because he was blind to what had been right in front of him…and that was you. I do not know the details leading up to the night at the Ravensdale ball, nor do I need to. I just wanted to tell you I cannot express the happiness I feel knowing you will continue to be part of this family in a more permanent role. You will rise to the challenge, my dear, of that I am certain.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Della said, as a tear streamed down her face.
“We will have none of that on your wedding day,” the Duchess said, wiping the tear away. “I believe your father is waiting to speak with you.” She bussed Della on the cheek. “This is your time to shine. When you are ready, we will be waiting downstairs.”
Della smiled at the Duchess as she left the room, and her father entered.
“You look beautiful,” her father said warmly.
“Thank you. You are quite handsome yourself.”
“I would have to agree with you.” Mr. Rowntree showed off as he slowly spun around and laughed. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I will ever be, I guess.” Della held her hand to her fluttering stomach. “I love you.”
“I love you too, my darling girl, which is why I feel I must apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“Yes,” he said, pacing across the room to look out the window. “I wanted to apologize for my agreement with His Grace and his father. It is unlike me to keep things from you, and I am sorry. He informed me you knew and suggested I speak with you about it, and I agreed. Though today was probably not the best day, I thought it best to clear the air so you could start this new stage of your life without secrets.”
“I understand you were only trying to help, and I appreciate everything you have done for me,” Della said as tears welled up again. “Though I wish mama could be here.”
“So do I.” Mr. Rowntree smiled sadly. “She would be so proud of you.”
“Proud of the way this all came about?”
“I think she would be proud of the lady you are, of the Duchess you will become, regardless of how it came to be. His Grace is a fortunate man, and I hope he knows that,” he said, giving Della a hug.
Della smiled, trying to hold back the tears threatening to undo all of Abigail and Maggie’s hard work.
Her father produced a handkerchief and held out his arm. “Your carriage awaits, Your Grace.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Royce was her husband now...
Uttering those words felt strange to her, and Della knew it would take some time for her to fully grasp their significance.
The Duchess had intended to invite several members of the Ton, but after the carriage accident, she and Tilly had decided that perhaps a smaller wedding might be best and invited only family and close friends.
Della had not looked over the guest list but was confident that neither Lord Milton nor Miss Putnam had been invited. So, it came as a surprise when she spotted Miss Putnam standing alone, about four rows back from the front of the church. Della could not imagine what it would have been like to witness a wedding that should have been your own.
She should have paid more attention to Royce waiting for her at the altar, but Miss Putnam’s saddened, far-off look pulled at her heartstrings. It did not go unnoticed that she wore the lovely dress Madame Delphine had made for her.
“Is everything okay?” Royce whispered in her ear as they stood on the steps of the Derrington home.
“Yes, of course. I was just thinking about Miss Putnam. I did not realize your mother had invited her,” Della said quietly to him as she greeted a few more guests.
“Nor did I.”
“Well, my dears, here we are!” The Duchess said happily, clapping her hands together after they had greeted their last guest. “When you are ready, come eat, celebrate, and enjoy yourselves. This day is about you two, after all.” She swept through the doors that led to the terrace, leaving Royce and Della alone together for the first time since they had exchanged their vows.
“Good afternoon, wife,” Royce said playfully, pulling Della’s hand up to his mouth to kiss it. “I have not had the chance to tell you how utterly breathtaking you look.”
She shivered with anticipation as he gently skimmed his lips and tongue over her knuckles. Closing her eyes, Della took a deep breath, and let Royce’s gentle touch calm her nerves.
“Della?”
“Hmm?”
“There is a slight problem I must rectify before we do anything else.”
“A problem?” Della’s eyes quickly opened, her heart racing as the intimate moment was quickly replaced by a feeling of panic.
“Yes, you see, I did not give you the type of proposal you deserve.” Royce got down on one knee and held up a little box. “Your Grace, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“But we are already married,” Della said, laughing lightly as the panic subsided.
“Yes, but I wanted to propose properly.” Royce carefully opened the ornate box, and laying on a velvety cushion was a delicately braided gold ring encrusted with diamonds, and a large teardrop emerald gracing its center. “I am sorry I did not give it to you sooner, but its design proved to be a little difficult.”
“It is gorgeous and more than I ever expected, but you need not have gone through so much trouble. The gold band I received during the ceremony was more than enough.”
“So, will you marry me?”
“Yes! Of course I will!” Della laughed.
Royce stood and started to remove the gold band from her finger, but she stopped him.
“Can I keep this one as well? It may seem silly, but this is the one we said our vows with, so it should stay closest to my heart. Just place the other one above it on the same finger. That way, I can admire them both at the same time.” Della held up her hand to get a better view after Royce slipped the ring on her finger. The precious stones glittered as the light bounced off their many facets. “It is perfect. Thank you.”
“Shall we?” Royce held out his arm as he smiled.
“You go ahead. I need to visit the retiring room. When I am finished, I shall meet you on the terrace.”
“You are not sending me out there alone, so I shall just wait for you here.”
“Are you saying you need…protection?”
“Possibly…” Royce mumbled, not looking directly at her.
“I will return this time.” Della placed her hands on either side of Royce’s face and guided it back to look at her. “I promise,” she whispered before she kissed him and left.
Della rounded the corner as two people emerged from a room, talking in hushed tones. Not wanting to interrupt, she ducked behind a large potted palm. What was it with her and hiding behind plants? she thought to herself, peering through the fronds. Maggie? Aden?
“Your brother would kill me if he knew!” Aden said through clinched teeth.
“Then do not let him find out! I will not tell him, so that would mean he would only know if you,” Maggie poked her finger into Aden’s chest for emphasis, “told him.”
Maggie stomped off down the hall and out of sight. Aden waited a few moments before doing the same.
Della was unsure of what she had just witnessed, but she did not want to risk being caught accidentally eavesdropping…again. Dipping around the palm, she ran down the hall, opened the door, and quickly shut it behind her. When she headed toward another door leading to a more private room, she heard a quiet sob coming from behind the folding screen in the corner.
“Hello?” Della said, walking over to see if the person might need some help. “Is there anything I can…Miss Putnam?”
“What do you want?” Miss Putnam sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Are you all right?”
“I will be fine. Please, just leave me alone…wait!” she said and turned to look at Della. “I-I would like to apologize to you, Miss Rowntree. I mean, Your Grace. I have behaved abominably, and I want you to know that is not who I am.”
Della walked slowly over to the cushioned bench and sat down next to Miss Putnam. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the person I truly am and the person you have known since our debut are not the same,” Miss Putnam said, twisting the fabric of the handkerchief in her hands. “According to my father, kindness is a weakness, so I pretended to become the person he wanted me to be. I am not the cold and unapproachable person I portray. And despite what everyone believes, titles and money mean little to me, it only matters to my father.”
“So, your understanding with Royce—”
“Was what my father wanted.” Miss Putnam dabbed at her eyes. “After my first engagement ended so horribly, my father was determined to see me wed as soon as possible. Once he learned of Her Grace’s intention to hold a ball in honor of His Grace’s return to London, he immediately set his sights on me becoming the next duchess.”
Della remained silent, offering Miss Putnam the chance to speak without interruption.
“When His Grace approached my father, requesting to postpone everything, I panicked and started the rumors to force his hand. But as time passed, I noticed how much His Grace was falling for you. His eyes always searched for you, even when he danced with me. And though I am ashamed to admit it, you presented the perfect opportunity to thwart my father’s wishes. I acted as horrible as I could so His Grace would no longer want to marry me. It was difficult to behave in such a way, knowing I did not mean a word of what I said.”
“Why not just tell His Grace you no longer wish to marry him?” Della asked.
“I had fallen in love with someone else,” Miss Putnam admitted hesitantly. “And I figured that if His Grace was the one to break our understanding, he would have the power to stand up to my father’s anger.”
“Did it work?” Della asked, concerned.
“Not really. My misjudgment was that I did not fully understand how much my father wanted to use me for his own gain or how much he wanted to be absolved of all responsibility for me.” Miss Putnam laughed depreciatingly. “I know I was not invited today, nor does my father know I am here. But I spoke with your aunt before the wedding because I wanted you to know the truth and that I harbor no ill will against you or His Grace.”
“Thank you for telling me this, and I am glad you came. But I hate to think about how angry your father will be if he finds you gone.”
“What else can he do? He has become blinded by his anger, and according to him, I am a failure and of no further use. I am to go live with some relatives in Scotland until he sorts things out—though I do not know what he means by that.” Miss Putnam smiled sadly. “In case I do not get another chance to speak to you, I would like to say how sorry I am for everything that has happened.”
“Do not give it another thought. All is forgiven, Miss Putnam.” Della patted her hand.
“Please, call me Emma. I know it will take some time, but I hope we can put the past behind us and become friends.”
“I would like that, and you must call me Della. Madame Delphine creates the most beautiful dresses. It looks lovely on you. Will you join us for luncheon?”
“Thank you, but I must be going.” Emma grabbed her reticule as she turned to leave. “Please, do not let me keep you. His Grace must be wondering where you are,” she said, walking to the door. “I hope our paths may cross again someday.”
Della sat in the quiet, feeling lighter after their unexpected conversation and hoped that one day Emma would find happiness of her own.