The Good Sister: Part Two

by Saint James, London

  Ashton turned, giving me an I told you so and I am sorry smile before leaning in to kiss my forehead. “I love you, my dove. I shall see you this evening.”

  “I won’t see you until this evening?”

  “My daughter, we have much to do,” Lady Archer interjected then looked back at her son. “You should not even be in this bed chamber. It is indecent, Ashton.”

  “She is to be my wife, mother. There is nothing indecent here.”

  “Yes, but she is not your wife as of yet. People will speculate if they know you are coming and going from her bed chamber. Your wife should come to you pure, within the constructs of a marriage bed.”

  I knew my cheeks were flaming red.

  “I shall assure you, there is none purer than my dove,” Ashton said, getting up from the bed and kissing his mother’s hand. “Good morning, mother, take care of my unsoiled dove for me.” Then he leaned down wrenching me into his arms. He kissed me hard and long, tangling his tongue with mine quite expertly.

  “Ashton!” Lady Archer gasped. “I shall rap your head with my knuckles. I know not where you have learned such appalling behavior.”

  Ashton let loose of me. “Indeed,” he crooned.

  Ashton sauntered out of my bedroom, whistling. I’d never heard his whistle before.

  “My daughter, please eat,” Lady Archer said, taking a seat on the side of the bed. “It shall take some work this morning. Your beautiful eyes are bloodshot. You cannot meet the Queen with bloodshot eyes.”

  I picked up the muffin from the tray, picking it a part, taking small bites even though I wanted to swallow it whole. I was starving.

  “I was considering the wedding as well,” Lady Archer continued. “It is usually standard to have a year engagement; however, my son has made his preference known on the matter.”

  I swallowed. “He has?”

  “Quite,” Lady Archer replied. “He would like a May wedding. Two months is not enough time to plan, hence I was thinking a compromise might be in order. June would still be considered brief in time, but not impossible I should think.”

  “June is fine,” I said before taking another bite of my blueberry muffin.

  “Then there is the discussion of the date. Ashton’s birthday gala is in June. We usually hold this particular occasion at the chateau in France. Perhaps we could plan for a wedding after the gala?”

  I picked up my glass of juice. “That will be fine,” I said before taking a sip, allowing the citrus taste to burst upon my tongue and holding back the urge to gulp.

  “How would you feel about the eighteenth of June? It is a Saturday,” Lady Archer asked.

  “The eighteenth will be fine, my lady.”

  Lady Archer patted my leg that was tucked under the cover. “Please, call me Gwendolyn.”

  “I’m not sure it is proper.”

  “When we are together without the probing eyes or listening ears of others, I do wish you to call me Gwendolyn.”

  “Okay.”

  “Therefore, we have decided on the eighteenth of June?” Lady Archer asked going back to the wedding discussion.

  “Uh, yes, I suppose.”

  “I shall have a luncheon in two weeks to present you.”

  “Present me?”

  “Of course. At that time your wedding date shall be announced.” Lady Archer readjusted my blanket. “We must find time to visit with the printer. We shall require luncheon invitations as well as wedding invitations. Then we must meet with the wedding planner, the chef, the florists, the baker—”

  “I am sorry, but when would you like to do all of this?”

  “Since today is Friday, and we do have the ball, it shall be impossible to start today. However, Monday it shall be necessary to start on all the preparations, my daughter.”

  “But Ashton and I are going back to France. I have an engagement party planned. My family will be arriving for this party.”

  “You must at least stay here a few more days in order to start the wedding preparations. When is your party?”

  “Wednesday evening. It’s a dinner party.”

  “Then you will stay on until Tuesday. I must insist.”

  “Well, I need to speak with Ashton.”

  Lady Archer held up her hand and smiled. “You shall find, my dearest, while men may feel they are in control, we allow them this illusion. Ashton shall not argue the point of extending your visit here.”

  “All right.”

  “Good, then it is settled,” Lady Archer said. “Now, we must get you up and out of this bed. You are in need of a long soak in the tub. I shall return with the masseuse, the seamstress, and the hair dresser.” She rose from the edge of the bed in a regal manner. “Oh. I have your dress for the ball. It is quite fabulous. I shall have it brought up.”

  I felt more than overwhelmed, but I smiled. “Thank you.”

  “My dearest, you have nothing to thank me for. You make my son happy, and he loves you; therefore, you are dear to my heart.”

  ****

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I headed for the bathroom and gasped. I did look like the devil dragged me through the badlands, only he did it by the head of my hair.

  “Cheese and crackers,” I spluttered, trying to press down the out of control curls that were springing up in every direction.

  I decided I really didn’t care to drink ever again nor did I understand what all the fuss was about, recalling conversations with my sister Bentley and Reid where they partied the night away. Maybe I am boring, but it’s not fun puking my guts out.

  When I discovered my aunt flow or as Ashton would say it, “my womanly cycle” had stopped, I did a dance for joy, flailing my arms and legs about wildly. After the ball tonight, Ashton was mine. I was going to jump his bones. Then I added another little dance, hopping across the bathroom like a crazed rabbit on steroids. I focused on the deep inviting tub. I was going to luxuriate in the bath until my fingertips looked like a prune.

  The long, hot bath set me to rights. I felt like a new woman as I slipped my dressing gown on. However, my mood quickly turned when Lady Archer arrived with numerous strangers. There was a masseur, the seamstress, the hairdresser, someone to apply my makeup along with another woman to give me a manicure and a pedicure. I wanted to chuckle, wondering if there would also be a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker joining in the festivities.

  “Steam her dress, it must not be wrinkled,” Lady Archer instructed staff, snapping her fingers as she instructed. “And Gretta, you need to prepare for the fitting.” She whirled about, giving instruction after instruction. “I believe you have the information as to how we wish Lady Trinity’s hair to look tonight.”

  The dark-haired lady with the elongated face said, “Yes, Duchess.”

  “Courtney, set up the massage table by the fireplace,” Lady Archer continued, “and use the jasmine oils.” Lady Archer orchestrated this ballet of well choreographed confusion. “Jada, I do not wish to see any brash colors upon Lady Trinity’s nails. I believe a renewal of her current French tips will be elegant.”

  “Yes, Duchess,” Jada said, setting up her supplies.

  “Constance, I want to see subtle elegance in Lady Trinity’s makeup application. I know you have a tendency to overdo when it comes to the eyes, but we want to highlight not look like she walked in from a brothel,” Lady Archer said with the upsweep of her chin.

  “Of course, my lady,” Constance replied.

  Lady Archer was a force to be reckoned with. I was getting the picture of how the next couple of months would be. If the duchess took this much interest in my preparation for a ball, what would it be like for my wedding? My mother-in-law could probably stage a full-scale war, retain a victory, set up her new régime, and have a victory parade all before afternoon tea.

  Lady Archer clapped her hands in two quick snaps of her wrists. “Now,” she said. She had everyone’s solemn attention. “Lady Trinity is engaged to my son, the Earl. She is a representat
ion of him as well as the house of Archer. I expect everyone to give her the proper respect as well as secure her modesty while preparing for the festivities this evening. I want to see her shine as if gold.”

  Everyone curtsied. Lady Archer glided over to me.

  “My dearest, I have left you in excellent hands. I have preparations of my own to attend to so I shall leave you; however, I shall return.” I wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a threat.

  “Thank you, my lady.” I curtsied.

  I listened as the chiming from the mantel clock rang out the day. Lunch was brought up, spot on noon. No one wanted to really speak to me, probably in fear they would break protocol. I tried to engage them, only to receive a, “Yes, my lady” or a, “Of course, my lady.”

  After lunch was the fitting of the dress I already fit into, but I suffered through the process only to have it removed. I was to undergo a facial before the application of my makeup.

  By the chime of four I’d been buffed, polished, and set to shine as gold. My hair was pulled tight around my face in an upsweep of curls. Upon my head I wore a brilliant tiara that was a gift from Ashton’s mother. My body glistened and smelled of expensive perfume mixed in with jasmine. It was time to add all the layers of underskirts, hoops, and finally the application of the dress.

  All I had to do was follow instruction, hearing, “Lift, my lady,” or “Move your arms, my lady.” They even attached my shoes to my feet.

  While the dress was beautiful, it was heavy, but I labored to the mirror. I almost felt the need to cry when I finally saw my reflection. I was Lady Archer in the flesh.

  “You are a true vision, my daughter,” the duchess offered.

  “Thank you. As are you, Duchess,” I replied.

  “Here,” she said. She placed a fabulous white fur wrap around my bare shoulders. “I wish you to wear this.”

  “It is beautiful, my lady. Thank you.” I glanced around, looking for Ashton. “Where is my lord?” I asked.

  “He shall meet us at the ball. He and the Duke have left. They are awaiting our arrival,” Lady Archer said.

  “He left?”

  “Yes, Lady Trinity.” Lady Archer took my glove-covered hand. “He had matters of parliament to attend to.”

  “Parliament?”

  “Yes, now come, we do not wish to be late.”

  ****

  Windsor Castle. My hands started to shake, but I pulled in a hitching breath and told myself you are Lady Archer. The car came to a stop, the door opened, then a hand extended to help me exit from the car. I took it, stood to my feet seeing… Ashton. I felt my heart race in exaltation.

  My gaze fell from his face to see the stunning beauty of him. Ashton was wearing a dark navy blue cloak lined with white silk. Down the sides of the cloak were gilt buttons. The cloak was fastened at the neck with two gilt lions’ heads joined with a golden chain. Beneath the cloak he wore a dark navy blue jacket with a white waistcoat, and navy blue dress trousers. He’d flipped one side of the cloak over his shoulder, exposing the dress coat beneath to be double breasted with peaked lapels. I counted six gold gilt buttons, three on each side of the coat as they shimmered in the light. Then something else caught my attention. Upon the bottom hem of his coat sleeve were three solid gold stripes, the top fourth golden stripe circled in a loop.

  “My dove, there are no words for your beauty. You are completely breathtaking,” Ashton said. With the swipe of his strong hands he had removed my white fur wrap. “I shall never see such beauty in my lifetime as I see in you.”

  “Ashton, you are the most handsome man I have ever seen. I shall never forget how you look tonight,” I whispered.

  Ashton gave a low masculine chuckle. “I am pleased you believe such, my dove, but I must assure you I shall never forget how you shine on this evening. You are brighter than the stars which envelop the heavens. Surely you are a creation of heaven, an earthbound angel who lit up the eye of God, and who sparkles within the twinkling of my eyes as though a dream.”

  I looked into Ashton’s eyes. “You always say such things to me.”

  Ashton smiled his brilliant smile. “You inspire such things to be spoken of, my dove.”

  Ashton removed his cloak. There was a small medal over his left lapel. My white-gloved fingers touched it then I moved over the golden stripes on the hem of his coat sleeve.

  “What does this signify?” I asked.

  “My rank. I was a Captain in her Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

  “A Captain,” I said.

  “Shall we?”

  I smiled. “Yes, my lord.”

  I was so taken in, mesmerized by my husband that I had forgotten to actually look around at my current setting. I was probably missing some great architecture, and should be struck by its beauty, but I didn’t care. Ashton was bigger than life, and more dazzling than any castle. He was all encompassing in my world.

  “Trinity, it is time. I love you,” he said.

  “I love you.” I lifted my chin.

  A male voice announced…

  “Presenting Lord Ashton Braedon Willmont Archer, the Earl of Buckinghamshire, accompanied by Lady Trinity Lane Winslow.”

  We walked forward into a line of royalty, Ashton bowing and giving the appropriate greetings. I followed, curtsying.

  “Your Majesty,” Ashton said. He bowed and took the Queen’s outstretched hand.

  “Your Majesty,” I said, giving a full curtsy.

  I had done it. I’d toiled, fretted, and worried for days for just this few minutes in time. I smiled, took Ashton’s hand, and was escorted onto the dance floor.

  “You were fabulous, my dove.”

  “As were you,” I replied, feeling there was nothing I couldn’t conquer.

  I glanced around at the fabulously dressed couples, the jewels that flowed from their bodies, the full string orchestra, the chandeliers which hung overhead like glittering diamonds, before looking down past the bell-like bottom of my dress, seeing the sheen of the marbled floor. The girl who feared everything had become the lady of the ball. I gazed into Ashton’s face.

  “Shall we waltz?” Ashton asked.

  I bowed my head in deference. “Yes, my lord.”

  Ashton took me into his arms. Alec would have been proud of my dancer’s stance if he could have seen me. And then we moved, waltzing across the floor in skilled perfection.

  His Grace tapped Ashton’s shoulder. “May I cut in, my son?”

  Ashton bowed his head and handed my hand to his father. “I shall entrust her to you.”

  I bowed my head to Ashton. “My Lord.” Then to his father. “Your Grace.”

  Ashton’s father spun me across the floor. “You dance well, Lady Trinity,” he complimented.

  “As do you.”

  The Duke smiled. I noticed this smile was like Ashton’s fake smile.

  “Tell me, Lady Trinity, what do you think of meeting the Queen?”

  “In truth it is very strange. I would have never dreamed of meeting the Queen of England.”

  The music swelled, and the duke twirled faster. I saw Ashton dancing with his mother then he was gone from my view in a swirling twist.

  “I am quite curious about you, Lady Trinity. If I were to inquire, would you be honest in your responses?”

  “Of course.”

  “You are very beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You are younger than my son, are you not?”

  “I am nineteen, my lord.”

  “Why are you not attending university?”

  “Well, this would be a long and detailed conversation that I fear we would be unable to get through by the end of this dance. However, I can say I suffered a trauma when I was a child, which greatly interfered with my ability to live a full life. I have endured many fears, and some I still battle.”

  The Duke raised a sandy brown brow. “Trauma?”

  “Yes, your grace. My father was killed in the nine-eleven attacks on the Twin Towers in Ne
w York. I was with him on that day.”

  Braedon Archer tilted his head. “I shall give you my deepest regrets.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  I noticed Ashton’s father was interested in my face as I spoke. I wondered what it was he was looking for. When the song came to a stop I was extremely relieved.

  “Well,” the Duke said, “our dance has ended. It has been a delight.”

  Ashton approached, taking my hand. “Father,” he said.

  I bowed my head. “My Lord.” Then bowed in deference to the Duke. “Your Grace.”

  Ashton and I danced, and danced, and danced. I had been introduced to so many people my head was a swirling deluge of information. I was unsure I would ever be able to remember all their faces, their names or their titles. Some were genuine in their greetings to me and Ashton while others extended salutations out of duty, which they stoically upheld with staunch faces and haughty chins, but I knew they would have rather snubbed me, of that I was sure.

  “My Lord,” Jillian said. “I must apologize to Lady Trinity as well to you. I should not have behaved so poorly while within your presence the other night. Please know I am ashamed of the spectacle.”

  Ashton bowed his head. “My Lady Billings. I believe my father took great pleasure in baiting you, and for that I am sorry,” he said. “As for Lady Trinity, you shall speak with her of any apologies which you feel you owe.”

  Jillian turned her gaze to me. “My Lady,” she said in a high brow tone. “I shall apologize for the unappealing scene during dinner. It was to be your night. I am truly sorry for turning your introductory dinner into a sordid affair.”

  I bowed my head, but made sure I placed my hand onto Ashton’s arm in full view, ensuring my possession. “Thank you, Lady Billings. I shall agree with my lord in saying you were baited into the spectacle. I hold no ill will.”

  “Thank you,” Jillian returned. “Lord Archer is a great man, who has made a fine choice in a wife. I look forward to the wedding festivities.”

  “Thank you, Lady Billings,” Ashton said placing his hand overtop mine. “Please express our greetings to the Commodore.”