Song From the Sea (33 page)

“Thank you, miss. There. That should do it.” She gave Callie's hair a last pat. “Have a look at yourself in the long glass.”

Callie floated over and briefly examined herself. Jane was right, she did have roses in her cheeks, and she thought the sea-green dress as pretty as anything that she might have chosen for her wedding. All in all she decided she looked presentable enough, but she would just have happily married Adam wearing a sheet if there'd been nothing else available.

Mrs. Simpson breathlessly appeared in the doorway, her eyes swollen. “His lordship is ready for you at any time,” she said, flapping her hand on her large bosom. “The vicar is downstairs with him, and Sir Reginald and Mr. Dryden, and his lordship was good enough to ask Mr. Plimpton and Mr. Gettis and myself to observe the ceremony. Oh, but you do look like an angel, poppet, a true angel. Well, then. If you're ready?”

“Could I just have a moment alone?” Callie asked, needing it very badly.

“Certainly, my dear. I am sure your nerves are altogether on edge, which is as it should be. I'll just go down and tell them you'll be coming along shortly.”

“Thank you.” Callie waited for the door to close behind Jane and Mrs. Simpson and gratefully sank onto the edge of the bed. Mrs. Simpson was wrong. Callie's nerves were in perfect order. She just hadn't had a minute to herself to assimilate everything she'd learned from Sir Reginald, let alone Nellie and then Adam. For a head as empty as hers was, it felt completely overstuffed with information. But right now, that wasn't what she had on her mind.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Father,” she whispered, “if you can hear me, know that I thank you for loving me so well. Thank you for sending me to England, for if you hadn't, I never would have met Adam. I know he wasn't the man you had in mind for me, but I love him. I will trust him and honor him, and by doing so I also honor you and all that you gave me, for I feel sure that I wouldn't have known how to love Adam so well if you hadn't taught me. It doesn't matter so much that he can't love me, it really doesn't. It's enough for me to have someone to love and a life to call my own.”

Callie opened her eyes as she heard a faint knock. At first she thought Mrs. Simpson had returned to fetch her, but the knocking came from the opposite end of the room. She turned her head toward the near window, trying to locate the source of the sound.

A dove sat on the exposed sill, peacefully regarding her, its head turned sideways. It tapped its beak against the wood, then tapped again and cooed, a soft low croon, as if beckoning to her.

Callie stood up and walked over to it, instinctively reaching her hands out. The dove didn't hesitate. It walked straight into her cupped palms and settled there as comfortably as if it was in its nest, its bright eye steadily fixed on her. Extending a finger, Callie stroked its soft head, and the dove easily accepted her gentle caress.

“Hello, dove,” she murmured. “Have you come to wish me well?”

The dove cooed again and stepped back out of her hands. In the next moment it turned, spread its wings and took flight, beating a smooth line toward the woods, its melodic song echoing after it.

Callie looked down into her hands where a single pale feather had fallen.

She couldn't have asked for a finer blessing for her marriage. A tear slid down her cheek and fell like a single bead onto the feather, shining like a dewdrop.

Callie tucked the feather deep down into her bodice, a talisman of love, and went downstairs to take Adam as her husband, her heart as light as the feather that rested against it.

Adam couldn't help drawing in his breath as Callie came through the door into the drawing room. The setting sun backlit her so that she seemed surrounded by a shimmering radiance, and her gaze found his and stayed fixed intently on him as if there was no one else in the room. The expression in her eyes was one he'd never seen in them before and couldn't define, and he wondered at it. She stopped, took a deep breath and released it, then walked up to him without a word.

He stretched his hand out to her, completely forgetting to introduce her to the vicar. “You look beautiful,” he murmured so that only she could hear. “Are you very sure, Callie, that this is what you want?” He didn't know why he asked, unless he was secretly hoping for a last minute reprieve, for he was fully aware that by making this set of vows, he was betraying an older one that he'd made to himself on Caroline's behalf.

“I am very sure that this is exactly what I want, and I most certainly am not going to change my mind,” she replied. “Are you having second thoughts, my lord?”

“I've gone to far too much trouble to have second thoughts,” he said lightly, unwilling to examine why he felt so shaken. He was marrying Callie out of simple practicality, nothing more, he reminded himself firmly. “Let us be wed without further ado. Callie, Vicar Dale. Vicar, Callie. Shall we proceed?”

“We shall, my lord,” the vicar said, starting to recite the opening words of the Anglican marriage ceremony and proceeding hastily along, which Adam could only put down to a determination to complete his appointed duty and get back to the vicarage as soon as possible to eat his dinner. Adam didn't really care. They were only words, after all, not a commitment of his heart, as his vows had been when he'd married Caroline.

“Wilt thou, Adam, have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will …”

“… I, Callista, take thee, Adam, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey till death do us part, according to God's holy law, thereto I give thee my troth.”

Adam doubted that Callie would ever entirely obey him, but then that was one of the reasons he liked her so much. He never knew what to expect.

Having thought far enough ahead to find his mother's wedding ring and give it to Nigel to produce at the appropriate moment, Adam slipped the simple gold band onto Callie's slim finger and impatiently recited the rest of his vows. Callie responded, and the vicar swiftly said all the usual prayers and gave the blessing.

“I pronounce that they be man and wife together in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” he finally said, which was all Adam really wanted to hear. At least he could now indulge in slaking his passion with a clear conscience. He was, after all, in the business of getting an heir. “Amen.”

Amen
, Adam thought with satisfaction as he dropped a light kiss onto Callie's mouth. He raised his head, and she smiled up into his eyes.

“Hello, wife,” he said, waiting to see what Callie would say to that.

“Hello, husband,” Callie replied, her eyes shining, and he could see that she really was pleased to be married.

Nigel thumped him on the back and kissed Callie's cheek. “I'm glad
that's
taken care of,” he said in an echo of Adam's exact thoughts. “I wish you both every happiness.”

Adam, with Callie by his side, received more of the same good wishes from the rest of the small party, Mrs. Simpson's being miraculously short and to the point.

“Congratulations, my lord, felicitations, my lady,” she said. “It was a lovely ceremony, simply lovely. I must get back to my duties. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

Gettis and Plimpton made their bows, both looking extremely pleased, and hurried after Mrs. Simpson, leaving Adam and Callie alone with Nigel, Sir Reginald, and the flustered vicar, who took his leave as soon as he'd downed the obligatory glass of sherry.

“Odd,” Adam said. “Did anyone else notice that the vicar seemed a little—nervous?”

Nigel chuckled. “Are you really surprised, Adam? He hasn't seen hide or hair of you in a very long time, and you suddenly appear at the vicarage and demand that he marry you instantly to someone he must know perfectly well has been living at Stanton for some time. I can understand why he might have felt a little unsure of the, er … the
exact
situation. I don't suppose you bothered to explain as you dragged him away?”

“I can't think why I should have explained anything,” Adam said. “I just told him to do his job and I gave him some money for his church fund. Anything beyond that is none of his business. Isn't that right, Callie?”

Callie rolled her eyes. “I can see one of my first duties as your wife is going to be to pay a call to the vicar and smooth over his ruffled feathers. Really, Adam, no wonder he kept surreptitiously looking at my waistline.”

“I can't think why the vicar should be looking at anything but his prayer book,” Adam said cheerfully. “He certainly shouldn't be admiring your waistline, but if he was, he has very good taste. Shall we go in to dinner? Marrying you seems to have given me an enormous appetite.”

17

C
allie didn't know how she managed to get through dinner that night. The courses kept coming; the glasses were recharged, and the toasts made. Despite her happiness and the pleasure she took in the company of Sir Reginald, who was a wonderful raconteur, and Nigel, who was in even finer humor than usual and kept them all laughing, she couldn't wait for the evening to be over so that she could go upstairs and ready herself for bed—and for Adam.

She knew the same thought was in his mind, for the heat in his eyes when he looked at her, which he did often, practically scorched her flesh. It certainly made her want to squirm in her seat, and she had to exert all the self-control she had to sit still and try to keep her mind on the conversation that jumped easily from subject to subject.

But finally, when Cook's lovely cake had been cut and served and eaten, Callie excused herself. “I will leave you gentleman to your port and bid you good night,” she said. “The day has been long, and I—I think I'll retire. Perhaps before you depart tomorrow, Sir Reginald, you might find time to sit with me and tell me more about my previous life?”

“I would be delighted, my dear. Once again, my felicitations on your marriage, which I am certain will be a great success and bring you enormous happiness.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I am so happy you were here for the ceremony.”

The three men politely stood as she rose, but Callie didn't miss Nigel's mischievous grin or Sir Reginald's merry twinkle, and she certainly hadn't missed the brush of Adam's warm hand against her thigh just before she stood up.

The day might have been long, but she had a delicious feeling that the night was going to be even longer. She would learn far more about herself in Adam's embrace, and he about her as well, than either of them had learned from Sir Reginald.

“It was a lovely wedding,” Plimpton said as he hung up Adam's jacket and laid out a fresh nightshirt. “You were so kind to invite us to observe the ceremony. Miss Callie, that is, her ladyship, looked radiant, if I might be so bold. We were deeply moved to see her in such glowing health and looking so happy after the ordeal she went through, and I speak for Mr. Gettis and Mrs. Simpson as well as myself.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, not really paying much attention. “I hope you all enjoyed the rest of the cake and the champagne.”

“The dining hall was a scene of great merriment, my lord. We ate the cake, and a delicious cake it was, and we drank to your good health and happiness. We drank many toasts, my lord, for everyone wanted his turn.”

Adam shot a look a Plimpton over his shoulder, wondering if the man wasn't a little tipsy, for he wasn't usually so talkative.

“Very good, Plimpton,” Adam said. He turned back to the bowl of warm water and splashed his face and neck, then reached out for the towel that Plimpton obligingly put into his hand.

“I took the liberty of putting a decanter of cognac next to your bed, my lord.”

Adam straightened and lowered the towel. “Do you think I am in need of fortification, Plimpton?”

“No, my lord,” Plimpton replied smoothly. “But her ladyship …a young lady's nerves, you know … perhaps a small glass to fortify her?”

Adam regarded Plimpton dryly. “Have you ever seen her ladyship display nerves of any sort?”

“I cannot say I have. Her ladyship appears to possess a most sound, even-spirited temperament.”

“Exactly. Her ladyship would not thank me for putting her into a stupor. I thank you for your thoughtfulness, but my wife will manage her wedding night very nicely and every night thereafter. That will be all, Plimpton.”

“Yes, my lord,” Plimpton said with a bow. “I wish you good night, my lord. Er, would you like your morning coffee and toast brought to your room in the usual manner?”

“I see no reason why you should not bring it. Whether I shall be here to take it is another matter. Good night, Plimpton. You may direct the rest of the household to go to bed as soon as they've finished downstairs. We need nothing more up here tonight.”

“Yes, my lord,” Plimpton said, vanishing through the door like the tactful and well-trained valet he was.