3. Chapter 3
I was a June bride.
The day was glorious, with a brilliant blue sky and warm sunshine on my shoulders. Flowers were in full bloom throughout Hyde Park, and the grass was a vibrant shade of green. Everything about today appeared perfect.
Yet—a twinge of despair tried to take root in my heart.
If only I were on the way to the church to marry a man I loved, or, at the least, one I knew.
The duke had only visited three times over the past two weeks.
Once to confirm the details of the wedding, a second time to sign legal documents regarding my prenuptial stipulations, and a third time to discuss the logistics of my move to Pickering Castle.
We had attended a ball and a dinner party, Mother as our chaperone, but had not had time or space for private conversations.
Every interaction had felt like a business meeting, and though I knew a little more about Pickering Castle now, and his dire financial situation, I knew nothing else about the Duke of Severton.
My trepidation grew as we turned on to Brook Street, getting closer to St. George’s, where I could hear the church bells ringing. I had to keep reminding myself that I was doing the right thing. For Margaret and Addie, for Pickering Castle, and for myself.
After the wedding, there would be a breakfast held at our home near Kensington Palace and then I would get into a carriage with the duke and we would make our way to King’s Cross Station, where we would board a train toward Ravenscar, on the coastal moors.
He’d told me it took between ten and twelve hours to arrive at Pickering Castle, via railway and then carriage.
By day’s end, I would be at my new home. With a complete stranger. Far away from everyone and everything I’d ever known.
Except Molly, but that was little consolation today.
A shiver ran up my spine as I wondered, not for the first time, what the duke expected of me as his wife. It was something we had not discussed.
My constant prayer was that this was God’s will for my life. I’d heard of taking a step of faith, but this felt more like I was jumping feet first into a pit of stupidity. I prayed God would not abandon me if I was being foolish.
As soon as the church steeple appeared, my despair turned into panic, and I forced myself to take deep breaths to quell my nerves. I had agreed to this arrangement, and I would not back out now.
“What is the worst that could happen?” I asked, not realizing I’d voiced my concern out loud until Addie leaned forward and put her hand on my knee.
“You could be driven mad by the Wailing Duchess,” she said, “and end up in prison like the duke’s mother.”
“Addie!” Margaret scolded.
She shrugged. “What? She wanted to know the worst that could happen.”
A giggle slipped past my lips and I shook my head. “I’ll miss you, Addie.”
“Perhaps I’ll marry an English lord and we can be neighbors,” she said with a teasing smile.
I set my hand on hers, thankful that God had made us sisters—even if that meant Richard was my stepfather.
The one bright spot about staying in England was that I wouldn’t have to see him often. And who knew? Perhaps Pickering Castle, with all its legends and rumors would give me more fodder for my novels.
St. George’s Hanover Square Church was a dignified and graceful structure in the heart of Mayfair. Set back slightly from the street, the light stone exterior was simple, yet the grand portico and Corinthian columns made a striking impression as our carriages came to a stop out front.
Footmen riding on the back of our carriage jumped down to help us step out of the vehicle. Addie and Margaret rearranged the folds of my wedding gown and Mother was soon at my side to straighten my long train and veil.
Richard offered to hold my bouquet of white lily of the valley, my favorite flower.
The bouquet was simple, and not as ostentatious as other Victorian brides carried, but it suited me.
I loved their delicate scent, but I’d chosen them because my father had called me his Lily of the Valley when we lived in Sacramento.
The flowers reminded me of him, especially today when I missed him most of all.
When everything was in order, Richard offered me a tight smile and handed me the bouquet. “I hope you will be happy, Lily.”
“Thank you.” I returned his smile, feeling the awkwardness that was always present when I was with Richard.
Mother placed a kiss on my cheek. “You’ve made me very proud, and I couldn’t be happier for you.”
I hoped I made her proud because of who I was, and not who I was marrying, but I didn’t ask for clarification. Soon, we would go our separate ways and none of it would matter anymore. She would have what she wanted, and she could go back to New York and flaunt it.
And I would have the quiet life in the English countryside that I wanted.
Or so I hoped.
“Are you ready?” Richard asked me.
Nodding, I took the arm he offered as Mother and Margaret led the way toward the church and Addie lifted the train of my gown to protect it from the dirty ground. The church bells continued to ring as I took a deep breath, following Mother and Margaret, onlookers watching from the street.
Our footmen opened the church doors and the sound of an organ spilled out to greet us.
The interior of the church was cool as we stepped inside the narthex, where another footman was waiting to open the door into the nave. Addie stepped around me, touching my arm for a moment, and joined Mother and Maragaret as they made their way down the aisle.
Richard patted my gloved hand lying on his arm, and when I looked at him, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again and turned to face the front of the church.
As I looked down the long aisle, toward my uncertain future, my heart ached for my father and the words of wisdom and love he would have given me in this moment. He’d been a man of deep faith and strong convictions. I tried to imagine what he would say, but it brought no comfort.
The organ music changed to the wedding march and Richard stepped forward—forcing me to move with him.
I’d asked for a small wedding, but it appeared as if Mother had invited all of fashionable London society.
Hundreds of people, many of them strangers, filled the pews of the majestic church to see the duke’s wedding.
Light entered the large space through the beautiful stained-glass windows all around, and when I caught glimpses of my friends, Martha gave me a brief, encouraging smile and Ruth bounced with excitement, causing her red curls to bounce with her.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not muster my own enthusiasm in return.
A movement near the chancel rail caught my eye as the duke stepped into place, near the minister who stood behind the rail.
The duke was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on, and he looked dashing in his morning coat.
Even the scar on his cheek could not diminish his good looks.
It added an alluring secret to his past, making my heart beat a little faster at what I would learn about him.
Trailing behind him were four men I’d never met—but who could not be mistaken.
They had to be the duke’s younger brothers, all as tall as church steeples and more handsome than any four men had the right to be.
Each had a distinct appearance, but there was no doubt they were all related with their dark hair and eyes.
I wanted to commit each face to memory, but there was no time as I neared the altar rail.
Mother had taken a seat, but Margaret and Addie waited off to the side, holding small bouquets of white flowers, wearing their matching pink gowns, both staring at the Welby brothers.
Everyone was looking at them—except the duke, who was looking at me.
Another shiver ran up my spine, but for an entirely different reason. His undivided attention was both terrifying and thrilling. It still seemed unreal that I would become his wife—his duchess. That of all the wealthy heiresses in London, he had chosen me.
In that moment, I made a decision. I would prove to the Duke of Severton that he’d made the right choice.
The organ finished and the minister said, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted by God in the time of man’s innocence”—his voice shook with power—“and is therefore not to be taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.”
I felt myself pulling back on instinct, trembling from his words. Was I entering this marriage lightly or unadvisedly? No one else seemed concerned.
“I require and charge you both,” the minister continued in his grave voice, his blue eyes piercing us, “as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it.”
He paused and my heart hammered with panic. Did God require that I love the duke before marriage? Was it wrong to enter matrimony for status and money? Fear compelled me to respond—but common sense kept my mouth closed.
The duke watched my face, a frown marring his forehead. I had never been good at hiding my feelings. Could the entire congregation see my uncertainty?
Thankfully, the minister didn’t seem to notice as he asked, “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”
“I do,” Richard said, taking my hand to place it into the duke’s. Without another word, Richard stepped back and joined my mother in the front pew.
My hand trembled so violently, the duke lifted his gaze to my face again, a question in his black eyes.
Swallowing, I forced myself to breathe, trying to calm my nerves.