Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“That is not your promise to make, but one we shall hold him to nonetheless. Never you fear.”
“There’s nothing to fear. I know him better than—better than all of you.” She held her tongue as her mother draped a tasteful diamond necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp. “You judged him wrongly,” she went on. “I don’t wish to argue, only to reassure you. Marlow’s not wild or mad, or any of the awful things people accuse him of. He’s very steadfast and very kind.”
Her mother regarded her in the mirror through depthless blue-gray eyes, so like her own. “I know he won’t hurt you, dearest. It’s obvious how much he loves you. I suppose we were wrong to deny the two of you, though you might have married someone of higher status. I thought you and Brittingham… Well, he will get over the loss.”
Her mother moved away, her voice going brisk. “Now then, my dear. I suppose you need no instruction on the wedding night?”
Rosalind didn’t need to look at her reflection to know she was blushing crimson. “I don’t.”
“That little smile tells me things are well enough in that quarter, and I’m glad for it. Let’s never speak of it again.”
They both laughed, and it felt good to be at ease with her mother again. Her father smiled too when she was presented to him at the door of the palace’s cathedral. He walked her down the aisle to gorgeous organ music with a choral accompaniment and gave her to Marlow without any outward signs of disapproval.
“For God’s sake,” Marlow whispered as he took her hand at the altar. “Look at you.”
They repeated their vows a second time before the royal court of Tuscany, and while it was a joyful wedding, with dancing and refreshments afterward, there was some underpinning of anxiety too. After this wedding, they must all return to England and face the ton. Carlo and Felicity’s courtiers were deliriously happy to celebrate any family nuptials, but London’s parlors would be filled instead with gossip of a runaway bride and an elopement. Brittingham’s friends might try to make their lives difficult.
That night, Marlow quieted her worries with kisses. They enjoyed a second honeymoon, exploring one another’s bodies in a luxurious, high-ceilinged chamber on a bed of silken sheets.
“I have long been married to you in my heart,” he said afterward, holding her against him. “Even when I left you for India, you were the only one in my heart. I’ll never leave you again.”
“You’ll never need to leave again.” She held him close, drifting to sleep on the scent of his muscled body, his white-blond hair. She must not fret about the future. If they loved one another, nothing else mattered. She would not be afraid of the ton, not with Marlow at her side.
Chapter Fifteen
Home, Safe and Sound
They left for England on a hot sunny day in a great caravan of coaches bearing their various family crests. Lockridge, Townsend, Augustine, but Marlow had no traveling coach for his bride. She traveled with her parents while he rode alongside with the other gentlemen.
He wished he had a sumptuous coach to put her in. He did, only it was back at his country property in Oxford, stored under burlap in a remote barn should he ever return to England from his foreign travels. He’d have it spruced up for her upon their return. He’d have everything spruced up.
He’d written a bevy of letters to the staffs of his country home and his town home, for there would be much to arrange on their arrival. He’d instructed his valet to find a properly trained lady’s maid for Rosalind and implored the butler of his country home, Maitland Glen, to renovate the chambers for the lady of the house. As he’d had no immediate plans to marry, they’d been left to collect dust far too long.
Now that their travel was organized and carried out by experienced grooms, they crossed the countryside much faster. It seemed they flew through France to Calais, where they were obliged to embark upon a steam ferry that would carry them past Dover into the port of London.
“It will be fine,” Marlow assured Rosalind. “The weather is fine today. The journey will take a matter of hours.”
Still, it was hard for both of them to step upon the gangplank and leave solid ground. “After this, I should never again wish to travel by sea,” said Rosalind, gripping his hand. “I’ll be content with England.”
“Of course, dearest. I feel the same.”
The coaches and luggage rode on a lower deck with the grooms. Most of the other passengers stayed above to look out over the water, watching France disappear and waiting for the cliffs of Dover to rise as they neared the English coast. The waters were blessedly smooth, though Rosalind did not release his hand until they’d sailed past Southend and entered the River Thames.