The Wedding Season (22 page)

“M
y thread keeps tangling.” Seated in a parlor chair across from Mama, Elizabeth tugged on her needle, but a knot kept it from pulling through the fabric.

“It’s too long.” Mama paused in her own sewing and eyed the blue floss. “Don’t be so impatient to finish.”

Feeling like a child just learning to sew, Elizabeth used the point of her needle to loosen the knot. “I do not understand why Papa would not let me go with Pru to visit Di and Sophie.”

“Don’t you?” Mama’s dark eyes searched hers, a gentle yet knowing smile softening the lines of her face.

So Elizabeth’s suspicions were correct. Her parents had somehow divined her initial intention to follow Mr. Lindsey. What they failed to discover, however, was that she had discarded the plan. Now she would never see him again, and her heart ached inconsolably.

But whether or not her parents trusted her, the experience of being tempted to do something she believed to be wrong and yet refusing to actually do it had made her stronger. Perhaps even more mature.

“You’re right, Mama.” She snipped her thread with silver
shears and began again with a smaller length. “I have been too impatient.” This time, she had no tangling, and the monogram was quickly done.

Pru would return home to her parents soon and had not yet finished her handkerchiefs. Completing the task was the least Elizabeth could do for her favorite cousin, whose counsel had refined her own faith. As exemplified by Elizabeth’s former desire for a titled husband and the calamity such a dream almost caused, at last she grasped the truth that no earthly object was worth having if the Lord did not will it for her. Not even the man she longed to marry.

“There.
P
for Prudence.” She lifted a silent prayer of thanks for the prudence her cousin had imparted to her, but also asked the Lord to ease her heartache.

“Do not mention my title to the captain’s staff.” Philip’s gaze took in his three servants, all of whom appeared wounded. Or disappointed. “This is important to me.”

After receiving their resigned agreement, Philip climbed into his coach. As certain as he’d been before visiting Bennington Manor, his nerves now wound tight with uncertainty. Never had six miles gone by so slowly as the trip back to Devon Hall, where either bliss or doom awaited him.

But soon enough, he found himself standing once again before Captain Moberly’s desk. The strange, intimidating glint in the man’s eyes threatened to undo him, but for Miss Elizabeth’s sake, he plunged ahead.

“Sir, I have been a Pharisee.”

The glint vanished, replaced by a friendlier light. “Indeed?”

“While it is true I’ve always endeavored to do right by every man, no one can be perfect, for pride over one’s supposed righteousness is the worst of all sins.” He exhaled a
quiet laugh. “As God forgives my pride, I must forgive my adversary for his offense against me.”

The captain appeared about to speak, so Philip rushed ahead.

“The Lord claims the right to vengeance, and I will no longer usurp His authority. I have absolved Whitson of his debt. He will not only not go to prison, but he need not repay a…a farthing.”

Moberly’s mouth hung open for several seconds. “You need not have forgiven the debt, just given him time to repay it.”

“No, sir.” Philip would not be deterred. “This is what the Lord wants me to do.”

The captain came close to smiling, and warmth filled his gaze. “Well done, my boy. Or should I say—” He stopped and shook his head. “Is there anything else you would like to say?”

Philip shuffled his feet. He couldn’t bear another rejection. “Sir, I love your daughter. May I have your permission to propose to her?”

Now the captain gave him a full, welcoming smile. “You may.”

Relief dropped Philip into a chair, yet he pulled together enough strength to fully lay his heart out before Moberly. “I will see to her every need, whether spiritual or material. The Almighty has blessed me with more than enough wealth to care for a wife and children, should He grant them to us.”

Moberly chuckled. “So I have heard.”

“You know?” Philip gripped the arms of the chair. “But do you know I have no desire for this elevation?”

“Yes. Bennington told me.” The captain held his gaze. “Your very reluctance will make you a better leader. You
will weigh issues with more equity if you have no personal ambitions. And think of the good works you can accomplish.”

“Perhaps so.” The thought encouraged Philip, but he did not wish to pursue the subject. Not now, at least. “Sir, if you have no objection, may I see Miss Elizabeth?” His heart began to hammer.

Moberly answered by ringing for a footman. “Tell Miss Elizabeth she is wanted in the library.” He nodded to Philip and left the room on the heels of the servant.

Dizzy with relief and excitement, Philip paced the length of the room for what seemed an eternity.

And then, there she stood in the doorway, radiant in her pretty blue dress that turned her eyes into shining sapphires.

And then, she was in his arms, warm, soft, trusting…and all was well.

“Oh!” Elizabeth jumped backed. “Forgive me, Mr. Lindsey. I was overcome with…with…” Oh, my, how good it had felt to be in his arms for that brief, audacious moment.

His gentle gaze, filled with love and amusement, imparted a reassurance to her that she had done nothing amiss.

“Well, then.” He grasped her hands. “I hope you will be as pleased as I am to know your father has consented to our marriage.” Doubt flitted across his eyes. “That is, if you still want—”

Relief and joy bubbled up within her. “Of course I do. I am yours, Mr. Lindsey, to have and to hold, um, once our wedding vows are completed.”

Now he laughed, and she enjoyed the way his face brightened. Too soon, he sobered again.

“Before you fully consent, you must know something. I cannot think to offer you a life you may find displeasing.”

“Oh, do not be concerned. I shall be as happy in Gloucestershire as ever I have been here at home.” Or would have been in London. “As long as we are together.”

His pleasure beamed only briefly from his handsome face. “Do you recall when I received word my distant cousin had died?”

“Yes.” Sympathy welled up inside her. “If you are required at his funeral, I will understand.”

“No. I am certain that matter has been attended to. However, another relative has died.”

“Oh, my dear Mr. Lindsey.”

“Don’t be dismayed. I never met the man, so my grief is the same as for the departure of any mortal soul.”

“Ah, I understand. But why is this a concern?”

“My cousin was this man’s heir, and now I am to receive all that was his.”

“Yes?” Intuition inched into her.

“Including his title. You see, my great-uncle was the Earl of Lydney.”

Elizabeth heard a squeak emanate from her own throat.

“Just so. But I cannot refuse the title.”

“Nor would I ask you to do so.” Elizabeth’s brainbox executed a dizzy spin. She was not to be Mrs. Lindsey but, rather, Lady Lydney. She was to have a titled husband after all.

“Does this trouble you?”

“No, no.” She gave him her sweetest smile. “I shall somehow manage to live with it.”

“D
early 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 from his prayer book.

This time, Elizabeth stood beside her beloved Lydney, handsome in his black suit, ruffled cravat and diamond tie pin. Papa stood on her other side, his gentle grip on her arm giving support. Soon he would hand her over to this dear, handsome earl.

The fragrance of roses from Aunt Bennington’s hothouse filled the air. Elizabeth had never been a favorite of this particular aunt, but the august lady adored Lydney for his generosity in ensuring one of her children’s happiness, so she insisted upon donating the flowers.

The vicar proceeded to read the explanation of God’s purpose for marriage, each word of which Elizabeth devoured, determined to be the perfect wife for her perfect husband. From time to time, she glanced up and found him looking down at her, love radiating from his brilliant blue eyes.

“I require and charge you both,” the vicar recited, “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, you do now confess it.”

The church door slammed open. “I made it in time.” A breathless young man stood in the portal, his eyes wide, his naval uniform slightly askew. As one, the congregation turned. Several people gasped. Others chuckled.

His mouth agape, Lydney stared first at the newcomer, then at Elizabeth. “I promise you, my dear, there is no impediment…for me.”

“Nor for me, my dear.” Indignation flared briefly within her. “That is my eldest brother, Lieutenant Colin Moberly of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. He always likes to enter with a flourish.”

“Ah, I see.” Lydney snickered. Then laughed. Elizabeth and the congregants joined in. Papa’s deep chuckle rumbled beside her.

Mr. Smythe-Wyndham cleared his throat. With difficulty, Elizabeth sobered, although she could see Lydney’s eyes still dancing with merriment.

“Forgive me, vicar,” he said. “You may proceed.”

None too soon, Papa gave her over to Lydney, who grasped her hands with gentle firmness. The vows were completed, the psalms read, the homily spoken and Holy Communion shared.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Lord and Lady Lydney.”

Sighs and hums of admiration filled the small church. Everyone filed out, making a path outside the door for Elizabeth and Lydney to run the gauntlet. Rice and flower petals rained down upon their heads as they made their way to an open landau.

Seated beside his beautiful bride at the head of the table in the vast dining room at Bennington Manor, Philip longed to escape and be truly alone with her for the first time since they’d met. No cousins, no parents, no footmen or maids in attendance. His own sweet Elizabeth in his arms, to have and to hold from this day forward. And the sooner the better.

“What do you think?” She blinked those brilliant blue eyes, which sometimes were turquoise, other times sapphire, once or twice icy silver.

“Think? About what, my dear?” Uh-oh. His first lapse, failing to listen.

But she forgave him with a smile. “Who do you think will marry next?” She tilted her pretty blond head toward the countless Moberly and two Lindsey relatives at the long table. “I do believe Lady Lucy and Jamie are moon-struck.”

Philip dutifully perused the crowd, his gaze lighting on his sister, now raised in precedence because he had been, and his wife’s favorite brother. Indeed, Lucy and Jamie had instantly latched onto one another, as much as was proper, each seeming to have found a kindred spirit.

Lucy had borne up well when she’d encountered Whitson earlier in the week, even wishing him and Lady Sophia every happiness. Whitson’s honest shame in her presence, along with his genuine plea for forgiveness from her, had convinced Philip he’d been right to absolve the man of his debt. Lady Sophia was determined to have him, even if they must live in poverty or, worse, move to America. Bennington, a generous and indulgent father, had given his blessing, but wouldn’t bestow a dowry until they married, a lesson Philip would not soon forget. Nor did he wish to begin his
life with this large family holding ill will against a kinsman. He’d never known all the reasons his grandfather and great-uncle had quarreled, but he determined never to engage in such a feud with a relative, but, rather, he would follow Captain Moberly’s…and Christ’s…examples and quickly forgive any offense.

“Well?” Elizabeth nudged him.

“What?” He placed a kiss on her fair cheek and nuzzled her ear for the briefest moment. “Oh, very well, I’ll play your game. I am convinced Miss Prudence and Mr. Smythe-Wyndham will marry before Christmas.”

She shook her head. “I have moved on from that topic, my dear. I asked if you like these custard cakes, for if so, I shall obtain the recipe from Aunt Bennington’s French cook.”

“Oh. Custard cakes. Yes. They are quite delicious.” He bent to kiss her, but she ducked her head away.

“Now see here, Lord Lydney, you must pay attention. Do you think your mind can wander that way when you sit in parliament? Your fellow peers will think you daft.”

He nuzzled her ear again and breathed in the heady fragrance of her rose perfume. Would this wedding breakfast never end? “What do I care what they think? I’ve no doubt they are all mad eccentrics.”

“Lydney!” Shock swept over her exquisite features. “You must be serious about your position.”

“Why ever must I?” Ah, what fun. Their first argument. One he’d gladly let her win, should she give him a reasonable answer.

“Why, because…because…”

He stopped her with a kiss, and she did not protest.

“Now,” he whispered, “what were you saying, my love?”

She sighed and smiled, then leaned her head against his shoulder. “I believe I was asking if we would be remiss if we excused ourselves and began our wedding journey.”

Philip could think of no argument against that plan.

Dear Reader,

I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey back to Regency England. This is my very first Regency story, and it was the natural progression from my three Revolutionary War stories about the Moberly family. The children of those heroes and heroines would be growing up just in time to fall in love during this unique and fascinating era, the setting for Jane Austen’s timeless novels.

When I began writing it, my thoughts were all about romance and weddings, but the more I researched, the more I saw that this was a novel of manners. The social structures of the Regency era were quite confining, but true love could find a way to cross social lines. By the way, if you’re a diehard Regency fan and find an error, please let me know! And please know that I tried to get it right!

Thank you for choosing
The Gentleman Takes a Bride.
As with all of my stories, beyond the romance, I hope to inspire my readers always to seek God’s guidance, no matter what trials may come their way.

I love to hear from readers, so if you have a comment, please contact me through my website,
http://blog.Louisemgouge.com.

Blessings,

Louise M. Gouge