Chapter 5
By the following morning, the drawing room at Blackstone Manor had been transformed with lengths of silk laid across the backs of chairs, samples of lace arranged upon every available table, and hordes of flowers.
Charity had invited some of her closest friends to assist with the preparations, explaining that Augusta required advice, and who better to give it than other duchesses?
“I have already survived one wedding arranged in haste,” Temperance said as she examined a piece of ivory silk with evident disapproval, “and I feel it is my duty to prevent Augusta from looking like a rushed bride.”
Charity removed the fabric from her hands before she could crumple it. “You were invited because I believed you might keep Augusta from becoming overwhelmed.”
“You invited Prudence for sense,” Temperance replied, glancing toward the duchess seated near the window. “But surely, you invited me for my honesty.”
Augusta stood upon a small platform while the seamstress held one color after another against her gown, although the discussion had continued for so long that she had begun to feel tired.
“Does this process really take so long?” she asked. “All the colors are beginning to merge into one for me.”
Temperance leaned closer, considering the shade. “The green is lovely, though perhaps too gentle.”
Prudence set down the ribbons she had been examining and came to stand beside Augusta, adjusting the fall of the green silk before looking at it from several angles.
“This color suits you,” she said. “It is soft without making you appear timid, and it will look well with ivory embroidery along the sleeves and hem.”
Augusta glanced toward the mirror. The pale green brought out the color of her eyes, while the faint silver sheen in the fabric prevented it from appearing too plain.
“I like it,” she decided. “And as the duke has made no request regarding my gown, I am free to choose for myself.”
Charity met her gaze in the mirror. “Has he made any request regarding the wedding?”
“Only that it occur on the agreed date and that the ceremony not be delayed by unnecessary spectacle,” Augusta replied.
Temperance’s smile became thoughtful. “He’s likely nervous.”
“Oh, I don’t believe so. He does not appear nervous or frightened of anything,” Augusta said.
“No man appears so; they’re good at hiding it,” Prudence replied quietly. “Cassian once seemed entirely certain of himself, and I believed that nothing I said could unsettle him, but I later learned that his certainty was often for show.”
Augusta looked toward her. “How did you learn the difference?”
“Because he eventually trusted me enough to stop pretending,” Prudence said. “It did not happen quickly, and we made a great many mistakes before either of us understood how to get along with one another.”
Charity laid the green silk across the sofa and gave the seamstress permission to begin making notes. “Duncan was quite the opposite,” she said. “He rarely pretended that he was unaffected, although he did possess an extraordinary talent for deciding what was best for everyone.”
Augusta smiled. “He still does that.”
Temperance settled into the nearest chair. “Harper attempted to avoid arranging my life by refusing to admit that he wished to be part of it, which was equally infuriating in an entirely different direction.”
“And how did you resolve that?” Augusta asked.
“I persisted until he surrendered,” Temperance answered.
Prudence laughed softly while Charity turned her attention to the flower samples arranged near the windows.
“We have settled upon the gown, which is more progress than I expected before luncheon, so now we must decide upon the church decorations,” Charity said. “I thought white roses with greenery would be suitable, particularly since the ceremony is small.”
“White roses are elegant,” Prudence agreed, lifting one of the arrangements, “although they may appear too severe without another color among them.”
Temperance selected lavender. “This would soften them, and lavender signifies devotion, which might encourage the bride and groom.”
“Ronan and I have scarcely managed a civil conversation without one of us reminding the other of the worst day of our acquaintance.”
Charity ignored her and considered the arrangement. “Lavender with white roses would suit the pale green gown. It would give a calming appearance to the guests, as well.”
“I don’t want to think about the guests. Everyone will expect something to occur regardless,” Augusta said. “Half the guests will spend the ceremony waiting for another woman to stand and accuse him of a different crime.”
“Then perhaps the officiant should omit the question inviting objections.” Temperance smiled.
“Oh, then our marriage will not hold. So, it is a risk we have to take.”
The seamstress measured Augusta’s sleeve.
Once the flowers had been settled and the decorations reduced to an amount Charity deemed tasteful, the conversation moved toward the wedding breakfast, the seating arrangements, and the number of guests who could be trusted not to repeat every private detail to the scandal sheets.
Augusta listened for some time before a different concern, one she had been attempting to ignore since accepting Ronan’s proposal, finally became too pressing to leave unspoken.
“There is another matter upon which I require advice,” she said.
The three married women turned toward her. Augusta hesitated, suddenly aware that even the seamstress and her assistant had become attentive.
“Perhaps we can have a moment alone,” Charity suggested, recognizing something in Augusta’s expression.
Once the servants had withdrawn with the fabric, Augusta sat upon the sofa and folded her hands in her lap.
“I know very little about what is expected after the wedding,” she began. “I understand the public duties, the household arrangements, and even what will be required of me as a stepmother, but no one has explained what happens when Ronan and I retire for the night.”
Silence fell so completely that Augusta could hear the faint movement of a carriage beyond the windows. Temperance’s face brightened with unmistakable delight.
“At last,” she said, leaning forward. “A useful subject.”
Charity immediately placed one hand over her friend’s mouth. “You will not be the person who explains it,” she said.
Temperance pulled Charity’s hand away and replied, “You cannot invite me to assist with a wedding and then silence me when we reach the only part about which I possess enthusiasm.”
“Enthusiasm is precisely what disqualifies you,” Charity said.
Augusta looked from one woman to the next. “You are all married and have children. Why are you behaving as though I asked for instructions regarding some forbidden ritual?”
“It is not forbidden,” Prudence assured her, though color had risen into her cheeks. “You don’t understand now, but it is merely private.”
“It will become my private concern within a fortnight, which is why I would prefer to understand it before.”
Temperance covered a laugh with her hand.
Charity sat beside Augusta and took a careful breath.
“The wedding night is not something you must approach with fear, particularly if your husband is considerate, although it may feel unfamiliar and uncomfortable at first because marriage creates a kind of closeness that you have not experienced before.”
“What kind of closeness?” Augusta asked.
“It is rather like learning a dance with a partner whose movements you do not yet know, because there must be trust, patience, and a willingness to follow one another rather than allowing one person to control every step,” Prudence attempted to help.
“Will we actually be standing?”
Temperance made a strangled sound.
“No, no, no, the dancing was a comparison,” Prudence said quickly.
Charity pressed her lips together, whether to prevent laughter or frustration Augusta could not tell.
“The important thing,” Charity continued, “is that you may speak if you are uncertain, and Ronan should listen. Nothing ought to proceed simply because he assumes it is his right as your husband.”
Temperance nodded, becoming unexpectedly serious.
“That part is true, Augusta. You are permitted to say what you want, what frightens you, and when you require him to stop.”
“And what, precisely, will he be doing when I might require him to stop?” Augusta looked toward her.
Charity reached for Temperance again, but Temperance leaned out of reach.
Prudence intervened before either could continue.
“Perhaps you should think of it as crossing a bridge,” she said. “You begin on one side as strangers in a certain sense, and through trust you cross toward greater intimacy.”
“What does the bridge represent?”
Prudence looked helplessly toward Charity, while Temperance laughed until tears appeared in her eyes.
At last Charity squeezed her hand and said, “You’ll understand soon enough.”
Augusta was used to some uncertainty, but this was uncharted territory even for her.