The romance worthy of the troubadours.
“Yes,” Prudence said, smiling.
She wasn’t wearing her wedding dress. She’d already told Mistress Pollock to dispose of it. Instead she’d chosen her second-best dress, a sage green silk designed to be worn without hoops, and so suitable for traveling.
She put on a fresh shift and a plainer pair of stays and then sat so the maid could do her hair. “Just pin it up, Carrie. There’s little time, and I’ll wear the villager hat.”
That was wide brimmed and would hide the dark bruise on her face. She’d already attempted to cover it with paint, but the effect seemed ridiculous, and in any case, the world should remember what Draydale had done.
The petticoat was quilted ivory silk embroidered in a green that matched the gown, and the gown was embroidered with dark ivory blossoms in a shade to match the petticoat. It was a pretty effect, but quiet. Would Cate think it too sober?
She had nothing else suitable.
The gown had a closed bodice fastened down the front with tiny bows of ivory ribbon, so it needed no stomacher. The bodice was a little low, however, so she filled it in with a silken fichu.
“That color does suit you,” Mistress Pollock said, “though it’s all a little plain. Here’s Susan’s brooch. It will go very well between your breasts and brighten it up.”
Prudence stopped her from fixing it in place and put it in her left pocket. “I’ll still have it with me,” she said, touching the other thing in there. The knife.
She wasn’t wearing it on her garter today, or out of fear, but only because it was part of Cate. It and the silver pin in the other pocket beside the blue brandy flask. And the sixpence in her shoe.
Talismans.
She’d thought of the knife and pin like that yesterday out of fear. Today she needed them even more, because she had to make this marriage work for the man who had done so much for her.
She pinned on the wide straw hat, which Mistress Pollock had hastily trimmed with ivory ribbons, and stepped into the delicate heeled shoes made of the same jade green silk. They’d been intended for the dance floor, but they’d survive coach to church and back again.
Everything else was in her trunk, which had already been taken down to the boot of the coach.
It was time to go.
She moved the garnet ring to her middle finger, where it fit much better, and she smiled with memory.
When she left her room, however, when she descended the stairs and took Tallbridge’s arm to go out to the coach, she felt too close to yesterday. Henry Draydale would have to do something—something to show what happened to those who crossed him—and Cate had done more than cross him.
He’d want to kill Cate. She knew it.
She entered the coach warily, alert for danger, praying Draydale’s injuries would prevent his striking today.
She wouldn’t feel at ease until she was well away from Darlington, and even then she could only pray that Cate was right in believing he could protect them both from Henry Draydale’s vengeance.
This ceremony was taking place at nine o’clock, and she’d hoped the early hour would mean few people around to watch. When they arrived at St. Cuthbert’s, however, even more people stood around. Why not? She represented a scandal among the best families of Darlington, and a romance worthy of the troubadours.
She didn’t want to face them, however. Tallbridge stood outside, hand outstretched, but all her muscles seemed to have frozen at once.
To balk at the altar a second time, however, was unthinkable. She touched the talismans in her pockets and forced her muscles into action. She left the carriage, head high, smile in place, took Tallbridge’s arm, and walked toward the church.
Murmurs and whispers made her shiver, but then a woman cried, “Blessings on the bride!” and others echoed it.
Prudence’s smile became more natural, and she dared to look to the side, to smile at people.
But then a man shouted, “Curses on the whore!” and a few others joined in with, “Shame! Shame!”
To Prudence’s horror, scuffles broke out as blessings and curses fought for attention.
“Come,” Tallbridge said, and hurried her into the church.
Once inside, she collapsed against the wall. “Why? Why?”
“Draydale’s work, I assume. Pull yourself together. If that’s the worst he can do, you’ll get off lightly.”
She glared at him resentfully, but he was right. Moreover, if the disruption was Draydale’s work, he mustn’t be allowed victory.
Aaron hurried into the porch from the church. “What’s the commotion?”
“Of no matter,” Tallbridge said. “I have men out there who’ll take care of it.”
He’d expected trouble like that? Prudence wished he’d warned her.
Tallbridge shot her a stern look and went into the church, leaving her with her brother.
“More shame on our name,” he said.
That stiffened her spine. “Not of my making, Aaron.”
“If you didn’t want Draydale, you shouldn’t have accepted him.”
She clenched her teeth. “Let’s progress,” she said, taking his arm.
But as they went toward the doors into the nave, he said, “It was most ungracious of you to forbid Susan her own home.”
“Did I?”
“Burgoyne did, which amounts to the same thing. You’ve caused a great deal of trouble, Prudence, especially for me.”
She stopped. “None of this would have happened if you’d behaved with decency, brother. None of it. I would have been content with a sister’s place in your home.”
“You don’t understand my situation. You should have waited. I’d have found a way.”
Perhaps he believed that, but someone was opening the door. “Let’s not argue now, Aaron. I hope in future we can find better accord.”
Something showed in his eyes, something of the younger brother she’d cherished and scolded into doing his schoolwork.
“You are sure about this man?” he asked. “Once you’re married, there’ll be nothing I can do to help you.”
“Would you have been able to help me once I was married to Draydale?” He flushed, and she knew there was no point to this. “I’m sure, Aaron. He’s a good man.”
He pulled a face, but led her through the doors.
Only a handful of people waited near the altar—the vicar, the verger, Tallbridge, Susan. And Catesby Burgoyne.
He was the shabbiest person present. Perhaps her old blue dress would have been a better match. But as she walked down the aisle, she had the strange impression that he was a fine bird among dull ones. Didn’t they call the very grand the
haute volée
? The highfliers?
It was something in the way he stood, in the tilt of his head and his calm-eyed self-assurance.
Highborn.
A member of the aristocracy, as he’d said. She’d known that, but their chaotic encounters hadn’t shown it as this moment did. She was hit by another flash of panic, but reminded herself that a member of the aristocracy, a member of Parliament, could still live a simple, earthbound life. She walked onward, focusing on a silver pin, a brandy flask, a ring, and last night’s kisses.
But please be sure
, she silently implored his smiling face.
Please have no regrets about this. You can see I’m past my prime and lacking beauty. You know I’m penniless and not of your rank in society. If you’re doing this out of pity, please stop this now.
But how could he? For him to jilt her at the altar would be even more heinous than her doing it to him.
Her hand was placed in his. Hers was chilly, but his was warm and strong.
He kissed her knuckles, smiling into her eyes, then turned them both toward the vicar.
Prudence managed to say her vows clearly, and had to fight tears over the ones Cate said to her. A form of words only, used as much for the most unpleasant marriage as for one of true love, but all the same, so beautiful, so comforting.
He put the wedding ring on her finger. As he’d warned, it was a thin, trumpery thing, perhaps not gold at all, but it served its purpose. They were married. Like the simple silver ring, it was a little large, so she curled her fingers, holding it to her to be sure it didn’t slip off and break the charm.
It was done.
It was done.
And now they could leave.
Not quite yet. Cate stepped aside to give money to the vicar and the verger.
Susan sniffed. “I hope you’re satisfied now, Prudence, with a husband who owns only one suit of clothes.”
“Very satisfied, sister. Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
Susan looked thwarted, but managed a toothy smile. “I’m sure it’s all been worthwhile if you’re happy.”
Determined to create as much harmony as possible, Prudence turned to Susan’s father. “Mr. Tallbridge, thank you for your hospitality and assistance. You’ve been very generous.”
Tallbridge inclined his head in that cool way he had, but something sparked in his eyes. It might even be approval.
“Where will your home be?” Aaron demanded. “I should have discovered that before I permitted this.”
Prudence didn’t want to admit she didn’t know. For once, Susan’s interfering nature was a benefit. “Wherever it is,” she said, “you’ll find it a deal less comfortable than Mr. Draydale’s house.”
“I truly doubt that, Susan.”
Susan frowned, puzzled, and then Cate was at her side again, kissing her hand by the wedding ring. “You’ve made me the happiest of men, my love.”
All for show, all for show, but his words created a glow inside her that made it easy to smile back at him.
He too thanked everyone for their assistance, and then said, “I dislike taking you away from your family, my love, but we must be away.”
Aaron tried again. “Where exactly will you be living, Burgoyne?”
“Today we travel to Keynings, my family home. A message there will always find us.”
Before Aaron could persist, Cate led Prudence down the aisle and out to where the coach waited. Any ill-wishers had been removed, and the small crowd called good wishes and threw grain and flowers.
Cate had pennies in his pocket and tossed them into the crowd, where children scrabbled for them. Prudence found herself laughing as if she were a real bride on a real, happy wedding day.
May it be so
, she prayed.
May it be so.
The coach awaited, but the coachman sat alone on the box. The groom was riding a horse.
“An outrider?” she asked, dismayed. Only the grandest people traveled that way.
“Merely a means of taking my horse with us.”
That changed everything. The bay horse was as plebian as Cate’s clothes. He might be part of a grand family, but he was an ordinary man, thank God, who might be satisfied with a very ordinary wife.
He handed her into the carriage, joined her, and the horses moved forward. Prudence waved to the onlookers, truly happy. She was leaving Darlington and Draydale forever.
Cate took her hand, looking at the ring. “A tinsel piece and too large. I’ll do better soon.”
“I rather like the silver one, and it fits my middle finger.”
“Then I’m glad, but you’ll soon have more. I’ve inherited some jewels, but I’ll choose others especially for you.”
“Cate, there’s no need.”
“Still worried about the workhouse?” he teased.
It wasn’t a teasing matter. “I have reason to, having come so close.”
“I promise you this, my wife—you will never end up in the workhouse, or in any other form of dire poverty. There will be shelter, food, warmth, and decent clothing all your days.”
“How can you be sure? Life can play cruel tricks.”
He studied her. “What cruel tricks has it played on you? Tell me about your manor house.”
Prudence swallowed. She’d implied more than was true, and couldn’t bring herself to reveal that yet. She told him about the end of Blytheby Manor, but let it seem that her father had overspent. The rest still fit—her father’s brokenhearted death, and her mother’s desperate plan to return them to decency.
“You loved your home.”
“Yes, but sometimes I think it exists only in my mind. That if I were to return I would find it much more ordinary than I imagine.”
“It could be so. Or not. I loved my childhood home, and thought of it fondly when I was away. When I returned it was all I’d remembered and more, despite some changes.”
“But no longer yours.”
He blinked at her as if startled. “That’s not the problem. Your hat is.”
He tugged free the ribbon and tossed the hat on the opposite seat, and then he kissed her.
It was a gentle kiss, but she appreciated that. She would like other kisses, but at this moment gentle was perfect. As was nestling in his arms afterward as she watched the last houses of Darlington give way to fields.
“It’s over,” she said. The most difficult part of her life was over.
“No, it’s begun.”
She smiled at him, for indeed, the future lay ahead, promising more than she dared hope. Perhaps later she’d truly understand how this had all come about, but she felt at ease and free now because of this man.
This man she loved.
She’d thought love came slowly, but she suspected the seeds had been sown that night in Northallerton. She’d certainly never forgotten him.
Yesterday had been too tumultuous for gentle emotions, but he’d rescued and avenged her. She might disapprove of impulsiveness and violence, but somehow those characteristics seemed to have helped the old seeds grow.
Then there’d been last night. That strange encounter warmed by brandy, and by gifts, and spiced with hot kisses between cold bars. This love had come swiftly, fiercely, and had created a shivering vulnerability. She mustn’t let him know. Not yet, or he might feel he must pretend to feel the same way. When it came, if it came, it must be honest. Kindness and fondness were enough—for now.