She could wear the shawl to her wedding. It was certainly beautiful enough.
The door opened and Christine came in, gowns over one arm in a manner Virginia doubted the maid would be pleased with.
“Here we are, my most lovely gowns.” Christine shut the door and went to the bed, tossing the dresses one at a time upon the coverlet.
Virginia stood and came to examine them, her green shawl in hand. Because she and her cousin had different coloring, and tastes which diverged more often than not, she worried none of the dresses would suit her. But anything was better than gray.
A sapphire blue dress was lovely, but wrong. A deep mauve looked too much like a mourning lilac. The white was out of the question—she was hardly a debutante. But there was an ivory-colored gown with green embroidery at the bodice and hem.
“This one,” she said, laying the shawl beside it. “This will do perfectly.”
“I thought so, too, but I wanted to give you options.” Christine’s wide, cheerful smile lifted Virginia’s heart. Her cousin was one of the most generous people she knew. “And,” Christine added, picking up the dresses not chosen, “I will make it a present to you, so it is no longer a borrowed dress. It is yours.”
“Christine, it’s too lovely—”
“I insist. And as you are my guest, it would be rude of you to refuse.” Christine winked. “I had better to change out of this riding habit, but I will be back to help you try the dress on.”
Virginia murmured her thanks. She reached down to the gown, fingering the fine cloth. To wear something other than black or gray stirred up a mix of emotions, not all of which were identifiable. She missed color at times. The world had been a very dull gray for far too long.
She took off her dressing gown and laid it across the bed. Her maid, Louisa, had already helped her put on her underthings. She lifted the gown Christine had given her and carefully pulled it overhead. The fabric fell with a swish around Virginia. The back would need to be done up, but she went to the mirror anyway to see how it looked.
The gown’s simplicity appealed to her. It would make a fine wedding dress, and when she laid her mourning aside she would enjoy wearing it often.
I marry Lucas Calvert tomorrow. Virginia touched her hair, piled up on her head in a simple twist. Her hands trembled and she hastily lowered them.
When Charles died, she had not thought to marry again. The love they shared, she knew, was not easily found. But necessity compelled her.
Perhaps there was some good she could do, too, as a countess. After reading the papers the earl—Lucas—had left her, the work ahead of her became clearer. It was a man’s province to care for the estate and lands, of course, but wives had their part to play.
He owned five houses throughout England, of varying size and consequence. All five had tenants, and while her husband must care for their livelihood, it was her duty to see to their well-being. And though he owned the houses and employed the staff at each, she would be the person responsible for the day-to-day instructions and interactions.
Charles’s barony, while by no means poor, had not encompassed many people or large tracts of land. But she had handled her responsibilities there quite well. She would do the same now.
A soft rap on the door preceded Christine’s reentry. “Oh, that will be just lovely. Here, let me do up the back.” She hurried in and started on the buttons.
Virginia met her eyes in the mirror and squared her shoulders.
I can do this. For the boys, for myself, for the people I will help.
All would be well, she told herself. For it must be.
¤
Lucas adjusted his cravat, staring into the mirror of his dressing room. The folds did not seem right to him, no matter how often he adjusted them.
A sigh escaped Randal, who came forward immediately, his hands replacing Lucas’s upon the cloth. “My lord, this is the third cravat this morning. What about it displeases you?”
“I cannot say, precisely. It looks like it has no business going to a wedding.” Lucas raised his eyebrows at his valet, trying to inject some humor into his words. “Perhaps a stick-pin?”
“Yes, my lord.” Randal stepped away to a small chest of drawers and pulled out a box. Lucas resisted the desire to pull at the snow-white cloth around his throat, knowing it was ridiculous to imagine the thing choking him.
“Here, my lord. May I suggest the sapphire pin?”
Lucas looked down at the box where several pins were nestled in a bed of velvet. He had difficulty swallowing for a moment.
Abigail had given him the box, and two of the pins, as a birthday gift after their wedding. He had laughed at the velvet, claiming it looked more likely to hold the crown jewels than his small baubles.
Reminders of her were everywhere of late.
“That will do, Randal.” His valet took the selected pin and carefully affixed it to the cravat.
Lucas turned back to the mirror, inspecting his clothing carefully. He’d chosen his darkest blue coat and gray breeches, trying to look solemn without wearing mourning of his own. When he awoke, his wedding on his mind, he realized he had not discussed what would be appropriate to wear. His bride was a mourning widow, he a widower. They hardly had need for finery, and it wasn’t a cheerful occasion so much as a necessary one.
What a way to begin a marriage.
Randal held Lucas’s gloves and hat, which the earl took, then he checked the watch in his coat pocket. It was time to go to the church.
While they were being married, Virginia’s small staff from the Gilbert house would move her things to his home. Then they would take the barouche to the Gilberts’ to collect Phillip and Edward. At least he knew the order of things there.
The church was not far. Thankfully, it was outside of town, so there would not be any curious eyes watching. When he arrived at the church, he was relieved to find the place deserted, except for the vicar.
Lucas came in through the vestibule, going through to the stone church. His grandfather had actually built the place of worship after renovations on Annesbury Park. Every member of his family since had attended services here, when at the manor, and most had been married within its walls. Not he, though. Abigail had wished to marry in London before the season was out.
“Ah, my lord.” Mr. Ames’s greeting drew his attention to the front of the church, just beneath the brightly colored windows depicting the Garden of Eden. “You are early.”
Lucas came all the way down the aisle, the familiarity of walking to the front of the room lost the moment he passed his family’s pew.
“Mr. Ames. Thank you for doing this on such short notice.” He shook the vicar’s hand, but nearly jumped out of his shoes when he heard a giggle from behind.
Turning, Lucas saw two young girls sitting on the front pew, likely no more than ten or eleven years old, hiding smiles behind their hands.
“My younger daughters,” Mr. Ames said, in a voice that sounded more stern than amused with the girls’ shy smiles. “I thought it would be good for them to witness such an important occasion. But if your lordship wishes, they may go on their way.”
“Quite all right. I believe we ought to have introductions if they are to witness my wedding.” Lucas made a polite bow, which caused the girls to leap to their feet and drop curtsies.
“Very well, very well.” Mr. Ames came forward. “My eldest is away at school. But here is Gabriella, eleven years old at present, and Augusta, nine years old.” He looked from one girl to the other, his brows drawn down. “And they will behave themselves.”
The girls’ smiles started to falter.
“I’ve no doubt of it,” Lucas said, keeping his tone light. When the girls glanced his way, he offered them a quick wink.
The door to the building opened with a small creek of protest; Lucas turned to watch Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Gilbert enter, both dressed as if for Sunday services. Directly behind them, a hand up as though to straighten her bonnet, came his wife-to-be.
Thomas gestured for her to precede them down the aisle, which she did with a nod, and as she drew closer Lucas stood straighter.
Angels above, she’s beautiful. It was thought in half awe and half prayer of gratitude. He’d thought her stately, before. Striking. Lovely. But without her blacks and grays, with a bonnet of green framing her face and a shawl of similar color around her shoulders, her eyes shone. Her hair peeked out around the edges of her bonnet, softening the sharper lines of her cheekbones, framing her features in gold.
The gown she wore, a warm color that made him think of cream, flowed over her curves better than the gray crepe he’d seen her wearing last. The color made her seem more delicate.
When she came close enough to hold her hand out, he realized he had been gaping at her with his mouth half-open. He snapped it shut and took her hand, holding it between his own.
“Are you ready?” he asked, softly enough he doubted anyone else heard him speak.
The fingers in his did not tremble, her gloriously green eyes met his without hesitation. “I am. Are you?”
“Yes.” But was he? Before, he had been saving a widow and children, which struck him as an honorable and noble sort of thing to do. With the reality of an attractive woman standing in front of him, it felt less noble and more self-serving.
Lucas’s unabashed staring at Virginia was finally broken when one of the young Ames girls, Augusta he thought her name was, jumped from her place on the bench and came to where they stood. Wearing a gap-toothed grin, the child held out a fistful of wildflowers.
Virginia’s eyebrows raised and one corner of her mouth twitched. She reached out and took the flowers. “Thank you, Miss Augusta. I quite forgot a bridal bouquet.”
“More sensible to hold a Book of Prayers,” Mr. Ames muttered from behind them.
“Perhaps. But so much about today is already dreadfully sensible.” Virginia made the statement lightly, before the child’s face could fall. Then she selected one of the daisies from the bouquet and held it out to the girl. After the child accepted the flower, her cheeks going pink, she went back to sit next to her sister.
A sensible arrangement. That is all this is for either of us.
Lucas offered her his arm, which Virginia took, and they turned together to the vicar.
“Shall we begin, Mr. Ames?” Lucas felt her hand tighten on his arm when he spoke.
Whatever came after today, he did not think he could regret this moment. As disconcerting as he found her beauty, Lucas knew she needed him. That would be enough to begin on.
Chapter Nine
Virginia prided herself on her capabilities as a woman of society. Though she’d not had much practice in the months since her late husband’s illness took its turn for the worst, she knew herself capable of conversing with all manner of people on all manner of subjects. Yet sitting next to Lord Annesbury, whom she must remember to call Lucas, she had a difficult time forming words of any intelligence.
Heavens, it isn’t as though I’m a green girl. I’m a widow.
And he, a widower. They both knew what it was to be married, they both understood loss. Surely, they needn’t ride in silence to fetch the boys from the Gilberts’ home.
He isn’t speaking either, she noted. Was he as uncertain as she?
“It was kind of Mr. Ames’s daughter to pick me a bouquet.” That was a safe thing to say, wasn’t it? He’d seemed pleased with the child’s gesture, after all. Her grip tightened around the wildflowers. White-petaled daisies, deep magenta foxglove, bluebells, and forget-me-nots. It was a simple arrangement, to be sure, tied together with a thin ribbon likely meant for the girl’s hair.
Lucas nodded, though his eyes stayed on the horses. “She seems a sweet child. Do you know her well?”
“They have come to the house a few times, to play with the boys. I am afraid Phillip is most unimpressed by young ladies at present.” She idly twisted the stem of a daisy. “He said their games were too tame.”
Lucas chuckled. “And the girls are older by more than a few years. I can imagine the difficulties there.” He glanced at her, a sparkle in his eye. “Boys tend to prefer more daring games at his age, while those girls are being molded into young ladies. Their father is set on it.”
“As well evidenced by his glares.” She narrowed her eyes and attempted to frown as darkly as the vicar had when one of his daughters coughed during the simple ceremony. Her expression earned a half-smile from her new husband. “I think being so severe rarely means better behaved children.”
One blond eyebrow popped up. “Do you? And how do you silence wiggling children in a church pew?” His eyes went forward again and his expression gave none of his thoughts on the subject away.
Why did he ask? Did he intend to tell her how to raise her sons? Her ire nearly raised before she told herself the question was innocent. He barely knew her, after all, or her child rearing methods. But where her sons were concerned, she would always be on the defense.
“They both know what is expected of them when they attend church. Edward is young yet and still stays home with his nurse most Sundays. For Phillip, he knows he must be a gentleman, and one day many will look to his example. I think because he knows my expectations he well fulfills them.”
“Hm. My father expected me to behave, yet I distinctly remember being pinched by my mother on more than one occasion when I misbehaved.” He cut her another sideways look. “Do you pinch?”
The glitter of humor in his eyes returned and Virginia relaxed. “Only in the direst of circumstances,” she said, trying not to smile. “It has yet to be necessary.”
He nodded and turned the horses into the Gilberts’ lane. “Excellent. I shall remember to behave myself in church, to be certain it doesn’t become necessary.”
Virginia felt her cheeks warm. “My lord, I would never—”
“Lucas, if you please.” He handled the reins with ease and didn’t so much as flicker an eyelash when he interrupted her.
Was he teasing her? Already? But they barely knew one another, she thought with some dismay. It was one thing to be friendly, but a tease was nearly a flirtation.
Virginia began to wish back her gray and black attire. The moment she could change, she would put on her best gray gown. She had nearly nine months of mourning left, after all.
The boys were playing in the front garden when the house came in sight. Edward jumped to his feet upon spying the barouche and began to wave. Phillip stayed crouched among the flowers until the horses pulling the barouche slowed. He stood slowly, rigidly, a somber sight with his frown and black jacket.
Her heart went out to him. He’d gone through too many changes in too short a time. Someday he would understand, but at present he was a little boy who missed his father and his home.
“Good morning, Phillip and Edward.” Lucas jumped down, his side of the barouche on the same as the boys. He bowed to them both and the boys hastily returned the gesture. Then the man turned back to her and held out his hand, ready to help her step down.
Her gloved hand slid into his strong grasp. He steadied her as she descended, her other hand keeping hold of the flowers. Lucas released her the moment she found her feet, for which she was grateful.
“Are you married now, Mama?” Edward asked, though he eyed Lucas hesitantly as he spoke.
“I am indeed. We have but to take our leave of the Gilberts and then we can be on our way to our new home.” She held her hand out and her little son darted forward to take it, uncertainty fleeing in the familiar touch.
Phillip spoke with less hesitancy but lacked any sign of pleasantness. “They’re all inside. Cousin Christine’s only been home a few minutes.” Christine and Thomas had left the moment they signed the register, while Lucas had been obliged to speak to Mr. Ames a trifle longer.
“Excellent. Then they will be prepared for us.” Lucas gestured to the house. “Shall we?”
The front door opened and a footman appeared, coming down the steps to take the horses
in hand. The butler stood in the doorway.
Virginia sucked in a deep breath. When she’d left this house, hardly an hour before, she had been a baroness and a widow. When she crossed the threshold now, she would be a countess and a wife.
She went first, keeping her hand in Edward’s, Phillip trailing behind, and Lucas bringing up the rear of their party—their family. What an odd thought.
Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert, Thomas and Christine, all stood in the entryway, hopeful smiles on their faces.
“Congratulations,” they said in chorus, obviously having rehearsed the single word in advance.
“Welcome, Lady Annesbury,” Mrs. Gilbert said, coming forward to put her arms around Virginia. For the first time that day, in the embrace of a mother, Virginia’s eyes filled with tears. Could anyone understand her better at this moment than a woman who had borne children?
Almost as if she’d heard Virginia’s thoughts, Mrs. Gilbert whispered, “You’ve done the best thing for them, love. It will turn out all right.”
Virginia returned the embrace whole-heartedly and sniffed back her tears. “Thank you, Mrs. Gilbert.”
The older woman stepped back, her own eyes looking wet, smiling broadly. “Oh, you have flowers. Lovely. Here, let me take them.” She took the flowers, which were beginning to show signs of wilting. “Let me press the bouquet for you, as a wedding gift.”
Virginia barely had time to nod before Christine stepped forward and embraced her. “I am glad you’ll be in the neighborhood for part of the year. We needn’t even say goodbye.”
“Not at all.” Virginia laughed. “I will be a very bothersome neighbor, too, always returning to gossip with you.”
Christine snorted. “As if I knew how to gossip. But we shall go on rides together, and you will have to bring the boys for their riding lessons.”
The Earl and His Lady: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 4) Page 7