In a minute, shouts rose up the staircase.
The duke narrowed his gaze upon the ceiling.
The bishop scowled at the profanity.
The staff shifted foot to foot.
Wills waited in fear of what havoc Oliver might cause.
Finally, the last of their exchange was heard by all.
“Come to the ceremony, Oliver, if you must. But you will be respectful or I will throw you out on your ear.”
“I’d like to see you try, Charles.”
“I’d like to see you resist.”
Wills caught her breath. She knew her man. He would not brook any mischief on his wedding day. And when she focused on the man who strode into the drawing room behind Charlie, she knew his measure.
Oliver was less than Charles. Shorter by inches, slighter by frame, weaker of chin, the oldest son of the Duke of Southbourne was a lesser man. He frowned at his father in greeting. He nodded at the bishop. He scanned the staff in dismissive arrogance.
And as for his consideration of her? Well. It was not gentlemanly.
“I came to wish the bride good fortune.” He stood before her and sneered. His little mouth curled up in a fake smile. “You are lovely, my dear. No wonder he wants you. But do you know he has no fortune? Hmm. And I do.”
“Oliver!” The duke ground out.
He flared his nostrils, his gaze riveted upon her. “Have a good dowry, do you? You’ll need it. De Courcy’s girl, I understand. And you ran away. Why, I wonder?”
“That’s enough!” Charlie grabbed Oliver’s arm. “You intrude!”
“I?” He bellowed. “I intrude? You come here and take my place. Run the estate. Pretend it is yours, and with my dear father’s blessing! You intrude!”
The duke wheeled his chair before him. “If, Oliver, you had wished to make this house your home and take on your duty, you could have at any time. Instead you did naught. Naught to preserve it and protect it!”
Oliver would have none of it. “I demand you step aside, Charles!”
Charlie confronted him. “Then step up, Oliver. Earn your place. Step into the role you were born to. I want it not!”
That made Oliver stiffen. “Why do I not believe you, brother?”
The duke stuck out his walking stick and poked his oldest boy in the thigh. “Be a man, for once in your life, Oliver.”
“What did you give him? Money? Land? He needs something to support this pretty piece of muslin!”
Wills bit her tongue, the wicked words she wished to say not fit for the fine day it should be.
The duke shot a glance at Clive, the butler. “Out with him!”
“Send me away! Oh, do!” Oliver eluded Clive. “You must, eh, father? Because if you don’t rub me out, this lovely chit will only starve!”
“Never!” came the booming voice from the threshold.
Gasping, wide-eyed, twenty-odd souls turned toward the sound of footsteps in the marble hall and two ferocious little dogs yipping round Oliver’s feet.
Wills could scarce believe her ears and eyes. But tears of joy came. “Papa!”
“Yes, my dear Willa.” He strode into the room like a Goliath. Beside him came her mother. But he stopped short at the sight of the duke in his wheeled chair. “Forgive please, Your Grace, this intrusion.”
“De Courcy,” the duke smiled and inclined his head in greeting. “So glad you could join us, sir.”
“I say! I say!” Oliver was shouting at Clive and the two footmen who were removing him from the house forthwith.
But all ignored them while Whistle and Thyme romped around the drawing room and came to sit at Wills’s feet. Their tiny pink tongues were out, their long tails thumping the Axminster carpet, their impish brown eyes on her. But she could only rejoice at the sight of her parents.
Her father beamed at her, a hint of supplication in the tilt of his head. “I would not miss this for the world, my dear. I came to celebrate that my darling daughter has chosen a wonderful man to be her wedded husband. If you will pardon my poor judgment and have me? Us? Will you?”
She ran to him and flung her arms wide to embrace both her parents. “Always, Papa. Mother,” she whispered and gathered her close. “I am so happy you’ve come.”
“Your father is here to learn humility, my dear.” Her mother fluttered her lashes to keep back her own tears.
“I admit it.” He mashed his lips together, docile. He dug a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to her mother. But to Wills, he frowned and said in a tone meant for her alone, “And I hope you will forgive me my pigheadedness?”
She kissed his cheek. “Is that not what we do with those we love? We forgive everything because we are flawed and very human.”
Her father looked at Charlie. “And you, Vicar, I do owe you many apologies for my unkind words.”
Charlie came forward, put his arm around Wills’s waist and extended his hand. “Sir, I am happy to accept your apology. And delighted that we will have many years to become better acquainted.”
“Thank you, sir. I am most grateful. I would not wish to see my girl wed to any man she did not adore. Her happiness is our own. These past few days without her have been h—.” He shot a glance at the bishop. “Ahem. Excuse me, sir. Our daughter is our precious gift. We celebrate that she is with us once again.”
The clergyman smiled and waved a hand. “Shall we marry these two young people now? What do you say?”
Charlie looked down at Wills and brushed a tear from her cheek. “Shall we now ensure that the rest of our lives you will shed few tears and smile at the world and me?”
She pointed toward the ceiling. “And Him?”
He threw back his head to laugh. His was relief and joy and delight. “Yes, Him too!”
And her grin was for the bounty of her happiness and her gratitude that she did indeed have a man she truly adored.
* * *
Charlie rose from their bed hours later, languid and sated from the fulfillment of their vows. Unable to sleep just yet, he donned his robe about his naked form and padded on bare feet to push back the heavy red velvet drapes from the mullioned panes and viewed the glory of the heavens.
The night was clear, the moon a white beacon hanging in the dark blue universe of twinkling stars. Always had he marveled at the beauty of the world. The turning of each day to night without fail in strict precision. The persistence of seeds to pierce tough soil to lift their tiny heads to reach for sun and rain. The diligence of men to till the earth, plant each spring and bring forth goods to nourish others. The courage of women to bring forth children through hours of painful labor to people the earth. The optimism of children to laugh and bring gaiety to their mothers and fathers and grow so that eventually, they might contribute special talents for all to live in prosperity.
On this special evening, he had so much more to be thankful for. He had a wife, a companion, a friend, a lover. A woman of strength and insight. One who had dared to flaunt convention. One who had won her right to independence. One who loved him.
She was the finest gift his God had given him. He was grateful. For one who would leave the calling of the Church, he did have doubts if he deserved such fine blessings as this wonderful woman. But he had taken her to himself and he was proud. Happy beyond his dreams, he folded his arms and smiled at the universe and all he saw that God had wrought. He would find many ways to exclaim his love of all he surveyed. He would work to make life better for men and women. Find ways to improve wages. Fight hunger. End transport of slaves. Improve working conditions in factories. And…
And if he was too grandiose in those ambitions, he would nonetheless work toward their accomplishment. To make life heaven on earth was a bold ambition.
He shook his head at his audacity.
But that was what he had intended all along, wasn’t it? He was putting his talents to best use.
The rustle of bedclothes had him turning.
“Aren’t you cold over there, talkin
g to yourself?”
He gave a laugh and strode toward their bed and the lovely lean woman who lay beneath the counterpane. “I should be over here warming you up, eh?”
“Your new job, sir, is just that.”
“Let me get to it, then,” he whispered as he climbed in bedside her and put his lips to hers. “I must perfect my technique.”
Wills looped her arms around his neck and giggled. “You have a lifetime to do it.”
“And aren’t I the most fortunate man alive!”
Tales of the Ton!
Published Each Monday!
September 23, 1816
Your Ever Faithful Correspondent happily reports that Lord and Lady Charles Compton have recently come up from Sussex to assume residence in their London home in Hanover Square for the Season.
The news that the bride, Lady Charles, formerly Lady Willa Sheffield, daughter of the Earl and Countess De Courcy, has eagerly accepted her new role as patroness of the combined orphanages of the Wimberton parishes near Brighton, was met with delight by the four other ladies serving in the same capacity. Her groom, Lord Charles, the second son of the Duke of Southbourne and the former Vicar of St. Andrew’s in the Field parish, is reputed to be considering a new venture to the benefit of us all. We await more news of that.
It is also rumored that the couple, married in May of this year will soon announce publicly delightful news of Lady Charles’s great expectations!
* * *
The End
Who is Cerise DeLand?
Cerise DeLand
Cerise DeLand loves to write about dashing heroes and the sassy women they adore. Whether she’s penning historical romances or contemporaries, she has received praise for her poetic elegance and accuracy of detail.
An award-winning author of more than 50 novels, she’s been published since 1991 by Pocket Books, St. Martin’s Press, Kensington and independent presses. Her books have been monthly selections of the Doubleday Book Club and the Mystery Guild. Plus she’s won nominations and awards for Best Historical of the Year, Best Regency and scores of rave reviews from Romantic Times, Affair de Coeur, Publisher’s Weekly and more.
To research, she’s dived into the oldest texts and dustiest library shelves. She’s also traveled abroad, trusty notebook and pen in hand, to visit the chateaux and country homes she loves to people with her own imaginary characters.
And at home every day? She loves to cook, hates to dust, goes swimming at least once a week and tries (desperately) to grow vegetables in her arid backyard in south Texas!
Also by Cerise DeLand
Regencies
Lady Starling’s Stockings
The Stanhope Challenge, Regency Quartet, box set
Regency Romp Series:
Lady Varney’s Risque Business, #1
Rendezvous with a Duke, #2
Masquerade with a Marquess, #3
Interlude with a Baron, #4
Christmas Belles, Romantic Comedy Series:
The Earl’s Wagered Bride, #1
The Viscount’s Only Love, #2
The Duke’s Impetuous Darling, #3
The Marquess’s Final Fling, #4
The Butler’s Forbidden Fancy, #5
Aunt Gertrude’s Red Hot Christmas Beau, #6
Delightful Doings in Dudley Crescent, Romantic Comedy Series:
Her Beguiling Butler, #1
His Tempting Governess, #2
His Naughty Maid, #3
Her Enticing Stableboy, #4, Coming Soon!
Four Weddings and a Frolic, Romantic Comedy Series:
Lady Fiona’s Tall, Dark Folly, #1
Lady Mary’s May Day Mischief, #2
Miss Harvey’s Horribly Lovable Fiancé, #3
Lady Willa’s Divinely Wicked Vicar, #4
Miss Weaver’s Last Handsome Frolic, #5
Box sets, Historical romances:
When You’re Mine, A Medieval, Regency & Victorian Romance Collection, 4 complete novels of 4 different series
Erotic Regency Romances:
His Delectable Cook
Sense and Sensibility
Victorian Romances
Those Notorious Americans Series:
Wild Lily, #1
Daring Widow, #2
Sweet Siren, #3
Scandalous Heiress, #4
Ravishing Camille, #5, Winter 2021
Medieval erotic romances:
Knights of Passion Series: Re-releasing soon!
At Her Service, #1, currently in When You’re Mine, box set
For Her Honor, #2
With Her Kiss, #3
* * *
Military Romances
7 Brides for 7 SEALs Series:
You Were Always Mine, #1
No Getting Over You, #2
SEALs Going Hot, box set
Burning for Nero
Conquering Zeus
A Long Time Comin’ (erotic romance)
Hard Drivin’ Man (erotic romance)
Contemporaries
Is That a Gun in Your Pocket? (erotic comedic suspense)
Tall, Hard and Trouble, box set
Tall, Hard and Mine, box set, Coming Soon!
Tall, Hard and Fierce, box set, Coming Soon!
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Lady Willa’s Divinely Wicked Vicar: Four Weddings and a Frolic, Book 4 Page 15