May God, and all of them, forgive me.
CHAPTER TEN
September 26, 1815
Shalford, Surrey
For the first time in Miss Alice Morrowe’s life, she did something completely in her own interest—she dressed for her wedding ceremony.
The duke had sent word yesterday he’d been able to procure the special license he promised—the day after his surprising proposal came. He also said in the missive that he would arrive in Shalford the next day to marry her.
She dressed by herself in the tiny room she’d no longer need to occupy. Where she’d assumed Fanny would be all too happy to assist, her friend—as well as the women she’d worked with at the milliner’s shop—refused to bear witness to her ceremony. Their defection wounded her, but she tucked the hurt away in light of joy this day brought her.
In less than an hour, she would leave Shalford as the Duchess of Manchester, and that was, no doubt, the reason the women in the village wouldn’t attend the nuptial ceremony. Of course, by the time she’d returned home late afternoon with the duke’s ring on her finger and his promise in her heart, news of her rejection of the blacksmith had circulated. Confronted with it yesterday when she went to the hat shop to give notice that she’d no longer work there, Fanny uttered sharp words to her, to the effect that Joe would have been a perfectly fine husband and she shouldn’t think more of herself by landing a duke.
Alice had cried herself to sleep that night after spending countless hours sewing to alter the best dress she owned. There was no shoulder to cry on, no sympathetic listener to pour out her worries, but soon she’d have Donovan, and she’d walk through life at his side. Shalford would be only a memory. She’d wanted to wear the dress she had at Fanny’s wedding, for she thought the gown looked better, but after her friend’s defection, she left the gown folded in the trunk at the foot of her bed. It held bad memories, and she wanted to fill this day—her day—with fresh ones, happy ones.
Brighter days were ahead.
Still, as she donned the reworked gown of light pink trimmed with lace and seed pearls, Alice frowned. Nerves beset her, tightening her stomach and chest. If nearly everyone in the village was against the union, should she go through with it? On the other hand, the residents of Shalford had never had her best interests at heart. They considered her a charity case at best, destined only for what they handed her.
A knock sounded at her door and her heartbeat accelerated. It’s too early for him! What if he’d sent word backing out of the engagement? When she opened the panel, a feminine hand on her arm calmed the worst of her fears.
“It’s Elizabeth.” The duke’s sister swept inside. Once the panel closed, she gave Alice a brief hug. “Do not worry. Donovan came with me. He’s walking to the church as we speak. I’m to make certain your luggage is loaded into the carriage as well as help you dress.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have many possessions.” Alice pointed to a worn valise on the foot of the bed. “A couple of day dresses, two pairs of shoes, a few hair ribbons, my night dress, a set of undergarments, and two bonnets.” She glanced at the yellow-hued blob of her soon to be sister-in-law. Her chin quivered as it became more obvious than ever how different she was in station from the duke. “Not even a trousseau or dowry.”
What must he think of me?
“Pish posh. He is not marrying you for material things, I can tell you that for a fact.” Elizabeth closed the distance and folded Alice in a hug. “No tears. Not today, for you don’t wish to meet your bridegroom with puffy eyes and a splotchy face.”
Alice drew from the other woman’s strength. “Thank you.” She pulled back. “I still need to do my hair and put the flowers into it.” She pointed to a few sprays of wildflowers that grew close to the riverbank that were her favorites. The yellow and white blooms would look pretty against her hair.
Not that anyone would see them except Donovan and Elizabeth and the clergyman.
Then a floral fragrance met her nose. “You’ve brought flowers, too.” Creamy pink and white blobs met Alice’s vision.
“Yes.” The smile in Elizabeth’s voice was unmistakable. She pushed a small bouquet into Alice’s hands. “Donovan said they were for his ‘sweet country flower’ or something to that affect, and that he looks forward to you becoming his ‘redeeming city blossom’.” She chuckled. “Forgive him. Such things are not his strong suit.”
“Oh.” Heat infused her cheeks as she brought the posy to her nose and inhaled the sharp unmistakable aroma of roses. Two of each with a few fronds of ferns to offset their glory. The stems and thorns were wrapped with white satin ribbon and tied with a simple bow. “How pretty.” Both the gift and the words.
And they matched her gown. How had he known?
“Come,” Elizabeth said with a guiding hand to Alice’s shoulder. “Sit on your bed and let me do your hair. The ceremony will be soon.”
In next to no time, Elizabeth braided Alice’s hair and pinned it into a coronet about the back of her head. When she reached for the sprays of wildflowers, Alice belayed her and instead asked that she thread the roses Donovan had sent into her hair instead. Elizabeth agreed, and the heady scent of the flowers wafted around her as the other woman fitted the cut stems into the lower curve of the coronet.
Then she thrust a pair of lace gloves into Alice’s hands. “Put these on. After I give the coachman your bag, I’ll escort you to the church.”
“Thank you.” As she pulled on the accessories, she said, “I’m looking forward to having a sister.” It would be nice with another woman to talk to and help her when in London. “I… I won’t feel so much alone in a world so vastly different from Shalford.” What if she faltered or wasn’t as elegant or regal as Donovan had hoped?
“I quite agree,” Elizabeth said with an obvious smile in her voice. “Between the two of us, Donovan will have to stay alert and remain ready for anything.” She laughed and Alice smiled at the happy sound. There was such hope on the horizon. “We shall have a merry time of it, I think, before my bacon-brained brother mucks it all up.”
Alice frowned. “Why would he do that?” What did Elizabeth know that she didn’t tell?
“Oh, forgive me. I’m speaking out of turn. Sibling rivalry and all that.” She linked their arms. “We need to go. He is waiting.” As she swung open the door to Alice’s room, she directed the coachman where to find Alice’s bag, and then she moved into the road.
A thrill twisted down Alice’s spine. He is waiting… for me. Oh, she was fortunate indeed that soon she’d marry a duke.
In the narthex of the small church, Alice sucked in a quick breath when the black blob that was Donovan—her soon-to-be husband—filled her vision. “Is he all that is handsome?” she whispered to Elizabeth.
“Oh, quite.” The other woman gave her a nudge. “See for yourself. No one will begrudge you the trespass. I’ll let you know when the minister beckons.” The tap of her heels indicated she moved away to give them a modicum of privacy.
“I knew you would be lovely on this day,” Donovan whispered as he took her hand and tugged her close. “And you’ve worn the flowers I sent. All the more special.” He put his lips to the shell of her ear. “I could eat you up, my dear.” His tone quickened her pulse.
Tingles of anticipation played her spine and circled through her lower belly. Surely it was ridiculous to feel such things at her advanced age, but she enjoyed it just the same. “Thank you for the compliment. You give so many, I don’t know what to do with such attention.” Alice kept her voice to a whisper as well as she traced her gloved fingertips over his face. She swept her touch along his hair. He’d attempted to tame his tresses, but it still curled about his temples and collar. “I’m glad you didn’t cut your hair. I… I like it with a touch of wild about you.”
“Ah, Alice you have no idea.”
Confusion bubbled through her mind. What did that mean? “Tell me how you’ve dressed yourself.”
“Since the occasio
n is so grand, I’ve chosen to wear the requisite dark clothing one would wear for an evening event, complete with a tailcoat. White cravat tied in an intricate design, emerald stick pin.” He cupped her cheek, and the smooth kid of his glove molded to her skin. “Burroughs insisted that my waistcoat reflect the somberness of the occasion though, but I insisted on the gray with silver and black embroidery, for it reminds me of your eyes.”
Tears blurred her already fuzzy vision. “How sweet.” It was providential she’d enticed the duke enough that he wished to marry her. She smiled. Mayhap everything will work out splendidly between us.
A gentle tap on her shoulder brought her out of the moment, and in a quiet voice Elizabeth said, “It is eleven o’clock. It’s time.”
Nerves fluttered in Alice’s stomach that calmed somewhat when Donovan took her hand and threaded it through his crooked elbow. He would walk her down the aisle in lieu of her having no one else in her life.
Then he set them into motion and they entered the church where she’d attended every Sunday since arriving in Shalford. Unlike Fanny’s wedding ceremony, only a handful of people waited to see Alice married, and they were most likely there to shred what was left of her reputation. But she didn’t care. Donovan was beside her, and she was so happy she nearly floated up to the minister’s white-colored blob at the end of the aisle.
The minister didn’t waste any time, and as Elizabeth sat in the front pew nearby, greeting a man she apparently knew closely, a man who smelled like cedarwood and cinnamon, he said, “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; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…”
Alice clung to Donovan’s arm, wrapped up in his scent, his strength, her nerves, for her life would change the moment she stepped outside the church. It wasn’t until he discreetly and softly cleared his throat that she ceased her wool-gathering and attended to what the minister said as he addressed the duke.
“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Alice trembled, her breath held in anticipation. Did he truly understand the severity of those words?
In a clear voice, Donovan answered, “I will.”
Her head spun and the jitters increased, as the minister addressed her.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
She squeezed her hand upon Donovan’s arm. “I will.” Her answer came out breathless and in a whisper, for tears crowded in her throat.
The duke was instructed to take her right hand in his right hand, and hers shook so badly that he gently squeezed her fingers. He went so far as to put his lips to her ear and whisper, “It will be all right, love. I promise this is not a prison sentence.”
Alice smiled lest he think she looked upon the ceremony with dread. This was the grandest thing she’d ever done in her life and she did so hope that she would make him proud that he wedded her. “I’m just so happy,” she whispered back.
Whereupon the minister cleared his throat and continued. “Your Grace, repeat after me…” He intoned words that Alice scarcely heard until Donovan said them to her.
“I, Donovan James Arthur Sinclair, 8th duke of Manchester, take thee Alice Minerva Morrowe to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
They were directed to release hands, and Alice was told to then hold Donovan’s right hand with her right hand. “Ahem.” The minister addressed her. “Miss Morrowe, repeat after me.” He gave her the words, and she prayed she would say them all in the proper order.
“I, Alice Minerva Morrowe, take thee Donovan James Arthur Sinclair, 8th duke of Manchester to my wedded Husband.” She paused to swallow and squeeze his hand. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, ‘till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And thereto I give thee my troth.” How wonderful and slightly terrifying such a thing was.
Please let me show him—and myself—this isn’t a mistake.
They were instructed to again release their hands. Donovan proffered a ring to the minister, who then laid it upon his open Common Book of Prayer along with what she assumed was a form of payment to the minister and his clerk. She’d remember to ask Donovan about it later. Then the minister returned the ring to the duke, who slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand, replacing the signet ring. While he did, the minister directed him to repeat another set of words.
“With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Oh, dear Lord, we are truly wed. Alice kneeled when Donovan did, still clutching his hand while the minister invited all in attendance to pray.
As the words of a prayer droned on, Alice closed her eyes and set up a simpler prayer of her own, conveying gratitude and thankfulness and asking for strength to survive what would surely be a difficult adjustment to a brand new life.
When she and Donovan stood, the minister intoned, “I now pronounce thee husband and wife.”
And then it was over. No longer was she plain and overlooked Alice Morrowe, milliner’s assistant. She was now the Duchess of Manchester. Unable to help it, she fingered the ring he’d slipped upon her finger. From the corner of her eye, she caught the red flash of a ruby. Rainbows refracted through other stones she assumed were diamonds but couldn’t confirm at the moment. The piece must cost a fortune, but then, he was a duke. A sick feeling rose in her throat. What if she lost the bauble? Or what if— The pressure of his hand on hers once more sent the worries flying out of her head.
She and her husband were ushered to a long table where they both signed the registry, which made the union official. Afterward, Elizabeth joined them, taking Alice’s arm and leading her down the aisle while Donovan stopped to talk with the man Elizabeth had sat beside.
As she passed the handful of witnesses, whispers drifted to her ears.
“…thinks she’s better’n us now…”
“…wed in haste, repent in leisure. You watch, he’ll throw her over for a mistress soon…”
“…why’d he choose her when there are others more suited…”
“…London won’t take to a blind duchess. The gossips will flay her alive…”
“…she’s not good enough for the likes of him…”
With every word, Alice died a little more inside. Instead of the joyous occasion, the day brought instead a murky future and the want to cry silly tears for fear she’d made a mistake. Why had Donovan chosen to marry her when she was vastly unsuited for the position of not only his duchess but his wife?
Elizabeth nudge her gently in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t listen to those great cows. Jealousy abounds, and if you cannot show a stiff upper lip to country folk, the tabbies in London will indeed eat you alive.” She patted Alice’s hand to soften the frank blow. “I know you’re made of sterner stuff than all of that. Donovan wouldn’t have picked you otherwise. Never let them see their words wound. It’s the first rule of being a duchess.”
“I shall try my best,” Alice whispered, and then the
warm autumn sunshine was upon her face and fresh air filled her lungs as she took big, gulping breaths to stave off tears.
Donovan caught them up. He replaced Elizabeth at her side and slipped an arm about her waist. “Shall we away to London? My sister tells me a small wedding luncheon will be waiting for some of my close friends, since I rather doubt you want to tarry here where all of Shalford is glaring, and the blacksmith looks ready to plant me a facer.”
Merciful heavens, Joe had shown up? She took a shuddering breath as nerves once more beset her. “That sounds splendid.” Ready to put her days in Shalford past her, she pasted a smile onto her face, hoping she seemed more confident than she felt.
“Excellent.” Then he placed his hands at her waist and lifted her into a carriage, this one closed. As he settled into the squabbed bench beside her and Elizabeth joined them, perching on the bench opposite, the duke took Alice’s left hand and held it between both of his. “Are you glad, wife?”
Tremors of delight fell down her spine at the use of that word. “I am, actually. It’s been quite the morning… husband.” Then she giggled. Elizabeth snickered and even Donovan chuckled.
The carriage door closed. The conveyance dipped as the driver took his place, and seconds later the vehicle lurched into motion.
They were London-bound and moving toward a new life.
“Now that the official business of the wedding has been accomplished, there are a few things I’ll need to discuss with Alice, decisions made, until she’s well-established,” Elizabeth began and she proceeded to tick the items off on her fingers. “Having clothes commissioned, accessories, and not to mention a ball gown, for you’ll be introduced to polite society at a ball a week hence.” Her new sister-in-law continued, but Alice tuned out the words as worry crowded into her brain.
Perhaps it wasn’t the fairy story she’d dreamed of, this being married, but more of a business arrangement. How… disappointing.
Devil Take the Duke (Lords of the Night Book 1) Page 12