The Wedding Season (11 page)

Her quip made Sebastian chuckle past the lump in his throat as he scrambled to his feet. “In that case, I will detain you ladies no longer. If you permit me, I will dispatch my footman to deliver your letter. A fast enough relay of horses might just outstrip the speed of gossip.”

Behind his banter, his heart ached at the prospect of
parting from Rebecca, who had blinked back tears as she witnessed his exchange with Hermione.

“I’m afraid that won’t do at all.” Hermione’s radiant smile belied her words. “By all means let your footman take my letter to London. I will have it ready to send in an hour. But as for the gossip, I fear there is only one way to nip it in the bud.”

“Indeed?” The glint of sweet mischief in her eyes made Sebastian a trifle wary. “And what is that?”

“You must propose to my friend again, of course.” As Rebecca glared at her and tried to protest, Hermione hurried on. “I see your neighbor, Mrs. Goddard. I can walk home with her so you two may talk in private.”

She glanced around at everyone staring at them. “At least as private as you’re likely to get in the middle of Sydney Gardens.”

She breezed away, calling out to Mrs. Goddard, while Rebecca remained behind, looking thoroughly rattled. “I cannot imagine who raised that girl to be so abominably forward! Pray do not feel obliged to propose to me at her bidding.”

But Sebastian sank down again, on one knee this time, for all the gawkers to see. “I would say you brought her up very well. I only wish I had not been too blind to appreciate her many merits until now. She is sweet-natured, forbearing, clever and witty. Not to mention very perceptive to bid me do the one thing I wished to with all my heart. I would say she will make my brother the best wife in the world, but that might not be quite true. If you will consent to marry me, dearest Rebecca, then even such a paragon as Hermione can only come second. I have no right to ask, let along hope that you will accept. But if you do, my happiness will be assured.”

The whole park seemed to hold its breath with him as he waited for Rebecca’s answer.

Instead she replied with a question of her own. “You’ve found a way to forgive Lydia, haven’t you?”

“Not without a struggle,” he confessed. “But I have. After hurting those I loved, I found I could begin to understand her, as you advised me. Forgiving your family must have taken far more goodness than I could muster, but it does not surprise me that you were able to. I am delighted to see how happy it has made you.

“Prosperous, too,” he added. “I fear I no longer have anything to tempt you to marry me. Except my heart, and you know better than anyone what sorry condition it is in. But whether you choose to claim it or not, it belongs to you and always will.”

“I would not have dared wed a man who could not forgive.” Rebecca seemed to have forgotten their audience. “And I could not have been a proper wife until I had learned. Now, I believe we can be happy together. And I would rather have your battered heart for my treasure than all the gold and titles in the world.”

This was better than good fortune, Sebastian realized as he surged to his feet. It was pure, sweet grace, precious and unfathomable.

“Go ahead and kiss the lady!” called someone from the crowd, of which Sebastian and Rebecca were suddenly aware again. “You cannot make tongues wag any harder than they will already!”

As the onlookers erupted in laughter, Sebastian and Rebecca laughed too, as they fell into each other’s arms. Their
lips met in a kiss of such tender intensity that neither heard a sound as the crowd broke into loud applause.

Except the pulse of their two hearts, healed and united by the power of love.

The Cotswolds
June 1815

“U
nited at last!” Sebastian’s voice rang with a note of sweet triumph as he and his bride rushed from the church to their waiting carriage under a shower of rice and rose petals. “I was beginning to wonder if this day would ever come.”

A gurgle of joyful laughter welled up from the depths of Rebecca’s heart as he helped her into the carriage for the drive back to Stanhope Court for the wedding breakfast. “Eight months is not such a long engagement. To hear you and your brother complain of late, one would think Hermione and I had made you wait eight
years!
”

She turned and waved to her new brother and sister-in-law, who were presently running the gauntlet of rice to the carriage behind theirs. It was her hope and prayer that they would enjoy many more moments as happy as this one in the years ahead.

Climbing into the carriage beside her, Sebastian caught her hand and raised it to his lips. “I suppose you are going to
remind me that I was the one who objected to couples rushing into marriage before they were very well acquainted.”

“Why should I remind you?” She raised her forefinger to give his nose a gentle tweak. “You seem perfectly well aware of your position. I must confess, though I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better these past eight months, I have been growing impatient to begin our life together.”

She and Hermione had insisted that if either of the gentlemen wished to withdraw from their engagement at any time, they would be free to do so without reproach. As a result, both brides could now bask in the happy certainty that their new husbands were as eager as they to be wed at last.

“I reckon these nuptials will long be remembered in Avoncross.” Sebastian did his best to insure that by producing a pouch full of coins which he proceeded to toss among the throng of local children. “Not only was it a double wedding for the House of Stanhope to the two most beautiful and accomplished ladies of the parish, but coming so soon after the great victory at Waterloo, all of Britain can rejoice. Mark my words, Bonaparte is finished for good this time!”

“That is certainly cause for rejoicing.” Rebecca’s happy smile faltered a little. “Though it grieves me to think how many women have lost husbands in that dreadful war while I have been blessed to gain such a fine one.”

Having emptied his coin pouch, Sebastian signaled his coachman to drive on while he took Rebecca’s hand once again. “Your compassion for others is one of the qualities I love most about you, my dearest girl. We will find a way to help those women, I promise you. That will be my new mission in Parliament—to see that our troops and their families are properly looked after now that the war they won is over. But I hope your concern for them will not dim your happiness of
our
special day.”

She gazed into his eyes. “Nothing could do that, I assure you. Today is a celebration of our love. I was pleased to see how many of my relatives came to the wedding. Aunt Charlotte must have soaked three handkerchiefs during the ceremony. I only wish…”

“What?” Sebastian prompted her, eager as ever that she should have anything her heart desired.

One day he would understand that all she needed to make her happy was his abiding love. “It would have been so nice if some of my school friends could have come to the wedding. But they are all so far away and have obligations to their employers.”

She could not help wondering if they had also stayed away for fear of looking poor and dowdy at such a grand occasion.

Before that thought could dampen her spirits, Sebastian spoke. “I was planning to take you to Vienna or Italy for a glittering honeymoon. But if you would rather, we could make a tour of our own country, stopping to visit with each of your friends on our way. Would you like that?”

“I would indeed!” Rebecca hesitated for an instant, then remembered that they were married at last. On her wedding day, surely a bride could be forgiven an ardent impulse. Throwing her arms around Sebastian’s neck, she pressed a warm kiss upon his cheek. “My friends were such a great comfort and support to me during dark times. I pray they may one day find the kind of happiness I have found with you.”

Dear Reader,

Sebastian and Rebecca’s story was a gift to me in so many ways. I had submitted a proposal to Love Inspired Historical for a novel set in England during the Regency era, but didn’t have very high hopes that the editors would buy it. When I received a call asking me for that book and a second, plus a bridal-themed novella, it was the answer to a prayer.

The only catch was that the novella needed to be written quite quickly, and I had no idea what to write! That weekend, my husband and I took a road trip with the Celtic choir to which we belong to provide special music for a church in rural Nova Scotia. While we drove, I jotted down ideas that I hoped might work for the novella. Seeking inspiration from my favorite stories, I thought of Shakespeare’s play
Much Ado About Nothing
and found just what I was looking for. By the time we returned home, I had fleshed out a story that I couldn’t wait to write.

Through the summer I sat out on our back deck for several hours each day, enjoying the sunshine, birdsong and the smell of freshly mown grass while I visited England’s scenic Cotswold countryside in my imagination. As the story unfolded, I felt a renewed joy in my work that had gotten a bit lost over the years. Now, I would like to offer this story, that was such a blessed gift to me, as a gift to you. I hope it will touch your heart and stir your soul.

Deborah Hale

1. At the beginning of the story, when Rebecca allows Sebastian to assume she is Hermione, she doesn’t actually lie, yet her conscience bothers her. What would you have done in her place and why?
   
2. Sebastian’s marriage left him bitter. Have you known anyone who’s been burned by love? How did they learn to let go of their bitterness?
   
3. Though the earl and the governess are very different in rank and fortune, what values do you feel they share that help create a bond between them?
   
4. When Sebastian hears the proverb about a good woman’s value being far above rubies, it reminds him of Rebecca. Do you have a favorite proverb from Scripture? What is it about those ancient, wise words that still speaks to you thousands of years later?
   
5. Rebecca wonders if remorse for our own failings and compassion for the flaws of others breeds hope. What do you think about that?
   
6. Have you ever experienced “pure sweet grace, precious and unfathomable,” as Sebastian does when Rebecca accepts his second proposal? How did it make you feel?
   
7. There is a French proverb: “To understand all is to forgive all.” How do you think this applies to Rebecca and Sebastian? How does it apply to your life?
   

Louise M. Gouge

This book is dedicated to my beloved husband, David,
who has stood by my side through my entire writing
career. I would also like to thank my wonderful agent,
Wendy Lawton, who works so hard on my behalf.
I’m proud to be your client. I’m also proud to be
a Love Inspired Historical author. This is the most
delightful “job” I’ve ever had! Thank you, Melissa!

But seek ye first the kingdom of God,
and His righteousness; and all these things
shall be added unto you.

—
Matthew
6:33

Hampshire, England
June 1810

“I
will not settle for an untitled husband.” Lady Diana Moberly lifted her pretty little nose and sniffed. “I shall find a peer to marry, or I’ll not marry at all.”

Seated beside her cousin in St. Andrew’s Church, Miss Elizabeth Moberly listened with rapt attention. After all, Di had just returned from her first London Season and knew everything about courtship and marriage. And in a few minutes, the wedding ceremony would begin, and Di’s older sister would marry a handsome gentleman she had met at Almack’s only two months ago. An
untitled
gentleman. Di insisted she would do better.

Before Elizabeth could voice agreement, her other cousin, Miss Prudence Moberly, squeezed Elizabeth’s hand and leaned around her to address Di.

“But what if the Lord wills for you to marry a good Christian gentleman without a title?”

Elizabeth swung her attention from Pru back to Di.

Di sniffed again. “La, such a question, Pru, but just what
I would expect from you. Haven’t I told you? The Almighty and I have an understanding about such things.” She gazed down her nose at Pru.

Elizabeth released a quiet sigh. She and her two cousins had been born within months of each other eighteen years ago. The youngest daughters of three brothers, they looked almost like triplets, with blond hair, blue eyes and ivory complexions. They had enjoyed a merry childhood together, yet these days their views on most everything were different. Di was always ready with an opinion on any topic and brooked no contradiction. Pru was the sweetest soul, but she never backed down from differences with their titled cousin, especially on spiritual matters. Elizabeth vacillated between the two, but these days she tended to follow Di, who always seemed to have more fun.

Still, Elizabeth could not deny the peace she felt in this small stone church, which her family had attended for over two centuries. Countless relatives had been baptized here, and many lay buried in the ancient graveyard outside. Whenever she came here, it seemed to enfold her in sheltering arms, encouraging her always to seek God’s will, whatever she might undertake in life.

Perhaps she could take the advice of both cousins. She would ask the Lord to send her a
titled
Christian husband.

But this was Sophia’s day, and Elizabeth wished her great happiness with Mr. Whitson. Today, all things seemed to smile upon the bride. The sun shone brightly, and no one in their vast family had succumbed to illness to spoil the celebration. Flowers from Aunt Bennington’s garden and bright green and white ribbons bedecked the altar and the pew ends, filling the air with the heady fragrance of roses.

The rustling of ladies’ gowns and the shuffling of leather shoes on the wooden floor caught Elizabeth’s attention,
and she glanced over her shoulder. Across the aisle, several people had moved down so a tall young man of perhaps three and twenty years could slide into the pew.

Goodness, he was handsome, if a bit untidy. His wavy black hair appeared to have been arranged by the wind, and his black coat, while quite the mode, had a leaf caught under one lapel and perhaps a stray burr or two clinging to the sleeves. His lean, strong jaw was clenched, and his blue eyes gleamed with the look of a man set on accomplishing an important task. The gentleman must have ridden post-haste to arrive in such a condition. At the sight of him, Elizabeth’s heart seemed to hiccough.

Or perhaps it was Pru’s elbow in her ribs. “Tst,” her proper cousin admonished. “You shouldn’t stare.”

“Humph.” Di’s ever-uplifted nose punctuated her disapproval of the latecomer.

Wishing to please her cousins, Elizabeth stared ahead. The bride’s mother, Aunt Bennington, sat in the front row with her eldest son, the viscount, his viscountess and her two eldest daughters and their husbands. In the second row, Elizabeth’s parents, Captain and Mrs. Moberly, sat with one of her brothers. Pru’s parents, who lived outside of London, had sent her to represent the family for this happy affair.

Soon the door beside the altar opened, and the vicar, Mr. Smythe-Wyndham, entered, followed by Uncle Bennington, the bride Lady Sophia and Mr. Whitson.

Elizabeth’s resolve about titles wavered when she saw the groom. Tall, with broad shoulders and blond hair that curled around his well-shaped face, Mr. Whitson’s appearance more than made up in form what he lacked in rank. Elizabeth could not deny cousin Lady Sophia had found a handsome man, even though Elizabeth preferred darker features.

As if driven by her own thoughts, she turned toward the
dark-featured stranger across the aisle. Seeing the stormy expression on his face, she drew in a quiet gasp. His strong, high cheeks were pinched with…anger? Dark stubble shaded his clenched, sun-bronzed jaw. His black eyebrows met in a frown over his straight nose, which pointed like an arrow toward the wedding couple, while his blue eyes shot flashing daggers.

Alarm spread through Elizabeth, but she had no time to think or act.

“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.” Mr. Smythe-Wyndham intoned the opening words of the solemn rite in his rich baritone. He read of God’s purpose for marriage, then moved on to charge the couple to confess it now if there existed any impediment to their union.

Suspicion shot through Elizabeth, and her gaze again slid across the aisle to the dark-browed stranger. His face exhibited a controlled rage much like her father’s when indignation filled him over some serious matter. The man edged toward the front of his seat, like a lion about to spring upon its prey.

“If any man do allege and declare any impediment,” the minister read, “why they may not be coupled together in Matrimony, by God’s Law, or the Laws of this Realm—”

The stranger shot to his feet, holding high a folded sheet of vellum. “Indeed, sir, I do declare an impediment.”