THE BRIDE WORE BLUE

by Cheryl Bolen

  Miss Moreland was shy, but Glee, who sat next to her, was not. By the time they were on the third course, the two young women were speaking with great animation. Glee imparted to the girl tidbits of information on the goings-on in the Upper Assembly Rooms as if she had in fact been there dozens of times.

  By the time the fourth course was uncovered, Glee admitted she awaited her first visit to the assemblies. “We must accompany each other our first time there,” Glee ventured.

  Dianna threw a frightened glance at her brother, who almost imperceptibly inclined his head, then she acknowledged how very agreeable the plan was.

  As the ladies conversed, Thomas turned his attention to George. “Do you enjoy hunting, Lord Sedgewick?”

  “I’m actually quite keen on shooting but have had little opportunity to do so in the two years we’ve resided in Bath. The last time I went was a year ago when I joined friends at Blanks’s lodge in Scotland.”

  Felicity was always amazed at how well George spoke in company. In her presence he conversed as he did with bosom companions. She had held her breath expecting his response to be something like Bloody well miss it since we had to let Hornsby Manor. Then, she recalled that he alluded to Blanks’s hunting lodge. “My brother is referring to his best friend’s hunting lodge. His friend’s name is not Blanks. It’s Mr. Blankenship.”

  George looked at her with mock indignation. “I’ve always called him Blanks. Ever since Eton.”

  “I attended neither Eton nor Harrow,” Thomas said.

  “You can read?” George asked.

  Thomas gave a hardy laugh. “Yes, I most certainly can. I could read almost before I could talk. My father, who had taught himself to read, insisted I learn at a young age. You see, he was a bookseller.”

  “Thomas has always been a prolific reader,” Dianna added. “He taught himself how to speak four languages.”

  Felicity could almost hear herself sigh with relief. At least he was learned.

  “He must be very much like Felicity,” Glee said. “Papa said she’s had her head in a book since she could sit up.”

  Thomas smiled at her. “May I inquire who your favorite writers are? Perhaps we share at least one interest, Mrs. Harrison.”

  Felicity knew he spoke of more than books. “I should blather endlessly about the genius of Lord Byron or Mr. Scott, but to be quite honest, I admit to reading and rereading everything ever written by William Shakespeare.”

  Thomas’s eyes sparkled. “We may be better strangers.”

  Felicity smiled at him. It was the first time her lips had betrayed her. She found herself matching wits with him. “As You Like It, sir.”

  He nodded, a satisfied smile on his face.

  “I declare,” Glee said, looking from Thomas to Felicity. “I cannot conceive of what you’re talking of.”

  “I believe my brother quoted Shakespeare,” Dianne humbly offered.

  “Oh, I comprehend!” George said. “ ‘Twas a line from As You Like It.”

  Like a prim governess, Felicity nodded stiffly at her brother. Peering into her glass of wine, she said, “It quite surprises me, Mr. Moreland, that you have had time to read Shakespeare, for I cannot think it terribly profitable.”

  “One cannot make money four-and-twenty hours a day, Mrs. Harrison.”

  When the sweetmeats were laid, Thomas invited George to shoot with him. “There is a small lake within a thicket behind the hall where grouse are to be had.”

  “Upon my word, don’t mind if I do take you up on your generous offer,” George replied.

  They agreed to shoot on Wednesday; then the men removed themselves to drink port while the ladies retired to the saloon.

  Though she had been disinclined to like Miss Moreland because of her dislike of Mr. Moreland, Felicity found nothing objectionable in the demure young lady. In fact, Miss Moreland in every way embodied quality. Her voice was cultured, her demeanor graceful and unaffected. She was evidently well educated and by nature sweet.

  In short, she would be a good influence on Glee, who borrowed tastes and opinions as others might change bonnets.

  After the men joined them, Felicity offered to play the pianoforte if Dianna favored them by singing. Felicity had lifted her brows when Dianna announced her selection, for it was one that required a high degree of musical talent.

  And Dianna surpassed expectations once again. Felicity would gladly have played all night just to hear Miss Moreland’s sweet voice.

  Even George stood watching the young singer in a daze of admiration, which greatly surprised Felicity. She could not remember George ever suffering through such a performance with anything but bored courtesy.

  When the number was finished, Felicity encouraged Dianna to favor them with another, and George enthusiastically doubled the request.

  When Dianna finished, Glee said, “I could not possibly follow such a performance, for my family will agree that my musical talent is most inferior to Miss Moreland’s.”

  “Although your talent is not as great,” Felicity soothed, “your style very well matches your selections. You have nothing to be ashamed of, my sweet.”

  “Please, Miss Pembroke,” Thomas said, “we would be honored to hear you sing.”

  Casting off her shyness, a sparkling Glee came to stand before the instrument her sister was playing. There was no need for the two to exchange information for Felicity immediately began playing the tune she knew Glee performed best.

  Glee’s performance met with enthusiastic approval.

  Afterward, the five played loo until it was time to return to Bath. Thomas and Dianna walked Felicity’s family to the waiting carriage. George was all that was cordial to Dianna while Thomas handed Felicity into the carriage. “May I call on you tomorrow, Mrs. Harrison?” he asked.

  She threw a quick glance at George, whose countenance was inscrutable; then she met Mr. Moreland’s gaze and answered him simply. “Yes.”

  On the way home George and Glee sang the praises of Miss Dianna Moreland.

  “I think she’s quite the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Glee said, looking at Felicity, “expect perhaps for you before you stopped wearing colors.”

  “Must say, she’ll do us credit,” George added.

  Felicity was pleased. Though she would never admit it, even Mr. Moreland was not nearly as crass as she had imagined him to be. To think, he even read Shakespeare! She thought about the evening spent at Winston Hall and had to admit that, except for his using the asparagus fork on the scallops, he gave no sign that he had not been born to wealth and privilege.

  Once they were at their house back in Bath, Felicity begged a private word with George. He followed her to the library and closed the door behind him.

  “So you’re going shooting with the nabob!” Felicity quipped with mock indignation. “What about your resolution not to consider the man’s proposal?”

  Her brother shrugged. “Fact is, I liked him. Nothing of the shop about him. Appears a perfect gentleman, and there can be no doubt his sister is every inch the lady.”

  “Does that mean you will go along with the man’s proposal?”

  “As it happens, I think it might prove to be an excellent arrangement. The pair of them are not likely to cause embarrassment.”

  She clutched her black shawl closer around her. “Then I will give him my answer tomorrow.”

  Chapter Four

  Felicity was determined to leave earlier than usual to avoid being home when Mr. Moreland called. She abhorred the idea of accepting his charity almost as much as she rankled at the thought of selling her family’s long-standing prestige. Of course, George’s utter capitulation to the nabob assured they would have no other choice but to agree to the man’s unusual proposal. She just did not want to seem too eager. After all, she had her pride.

  Lettie draped a black spencer about Felicity’s shoulders. Felicity took a last glance at her looking glass, swept from her chamber, and descended the stairs— just as Stanton was s
howing Mr. Moreland in.

  Thomas looked up at Felicity. “Going out, Mrs. Harrison?”

  Felicity colored. Hadn’t the man told her he would call this morning? It was one thing being rude when one did not have to face the recipient of the rudeness, but to have to face him was altogether embarrassing. “I ... I was going to dash over to the lending library.”

  “Perhaps you will allow me to convey you there. I have come in my curricle.”

  Already he was planning to flaunt the connection in public. Her lips thinned with displeasure. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Moreland. The short walk will do me good. But I can do that later—after your visit.”

  She brushed past him and into the drawing room, with him following. “Please close the door, Stanton,” she instructed the butler.

  Felicity walked to the window and drew open the draperies, allowing more light into the yellow and gold room; then she sat on the sofa.

  Thomas lowered his large frame into a nearby settee. She wondered if he would fit in one of the Louis XIV chairs. She doubted it.

  “Allow me to thank you for an enjoyable evening last night,” Felicity began. “My family was most impressed.”

  He cocked a brow. “And you?”

  “I found nothing offensive, Mr. Moreland. In fact, I must agree with you about your sister. She is all that you implied and more. I believe she would be a good influence on Glee, who is at present a bit flighty. Miss Moreland is genteel, intelligent, and quite lovely.”

  His wide smile revealed even white teeth and extended to his flashing black eyes. “I’m gratified that you find I did not exaggerate.”

  “Not in the least! I would be honored to be seen with Miss Moreland.”

  His face grew serious. “What of her brother?”

  Felicity was at a loss for words. She could not meet his gaze. “I find nothing offensive in your manner, Mr. Moreland.” She fumbled with her gloves, beginning to remove them, then putting them back on.

  He got to his feet. “I will endeavor not to be offensive when we pick up you and Miss Pembroke tonight for a visit to the Upper Assembly Rooms.” He turned and walked toward the door before turning back. “By the way, your brother’s debts have all been settled.”

  She could feel her anger rising. “How did you know I would accept your proposal?”

  “I am accustomed to getting what I want, Mrs. Harrison.” He tipped his head to her, then departed.

  Hands on her hips, she fumed. “Arrogant creature!”

  Her trumped-up plan of going to the lending library quickly forgotten, she scurried upstairs, throwing off her spencer and barking orders for Lettie to awaken Glee. “We’ve got to get her a dress ready for tonight.”

  Within moments, an excited Glee, still wearing her night shift, threw open the door to Felicity’s sitting room. “I shall be allowed to go to the Assembly Rooms tonight? Please say it’s so!”

  Felicity stopped searching through her worktable and glanced at her sister. The smile Glee could not possibly repress lighted her face, and her green eyes twinkled with mirth. She reminded Felicity of a wondrous child skating on winter’s first frozen pond.

  But Felicity realized with bittersweet finality that Glee was no longer a child. Indeed, she stood as tall as Felicity, and her lithe body smoothly curved like a woman’s. She hovered at the precipice of womanhood, ready to become the mate of some man Felicity prayed would cherish her. As Michael had cherished Felicity. Felicity touched the locket that hung always from her neck. Because it held Michael’s miniature and a lock of his hair, she felt close to him whenever she fingered it “To be sure. What do you think about the pink gown?”

  Glee frowned. “Pink is dreadful on redheads.”

  “How can you say that! It brings out the pink in your cheeks and lips and goes well with your milky complexion, my sweet.”

  “I refuse to make my first impression wearing the dreadful color. I would prefer the aqua, but I know it would not do for my first dance.”

  “There is the white one you wore last night,” Felicity offered.

  “And have Miss Moreland think I only own one dress?”

  “What matters is how you will look tonight, not what Miss Moreland thinks.”

  Glee began to dance around the room. “I wonder what Miss Moreland will wear tonight? No doubt it will be something very elegant.”

  “And appropriate.”

  “What of the length of ivory sarcenet we purchased last month? Could we not fashion it into a simple gown?” Glee threw a hopeful gaze at Felicity.

  “By tonight?”

  “You’re a fast seamstress, and you won’t have to spend any time getting ready yourself,” Glee said. “One black dress is much the same as another.”

  “Very well. It’s your appearance that counts. Look through Akerman’s and see if there’s something we can modify.”

  As he rode back to Winston Hall, Thomas was grave. Having so recently been in the same room with Felicity should have made him happy. During those years he was in India, he would have given a king’s ransom just to see her lovely face once again. Now he was assured of seeing her on a regular basis. And the thought brought gloom.

  Not that his feelings toward her had changed. He still worshipped her. He had shamefully rejoiced when he had learned she was a widow, but he never imagined she would still be wearing black after four long years.

  He also lamented that Felicity’s innocent trust and warm compassion of six years ago was as long buried as her Captain Harrison.

  Thomas wondered if he would ever be able to chisel through the ice that enclosed her heart.

  By the time their escort arrived that night, Felicity was exhausted. She had sewn for so long her fingers ached, as did her back from bending over her needlework throughout the morning and afternoon. She had barely finished Glee’s dress in time to throw off one of her own black dresses for another, the silk gown she had worn the night before. Her only jewelry was Michael’s locket.

  Lettie swept Felicity’s blonde ringlets back and pinned them, then stood back to admire her mistress. “Miss Glee will look lovely indeed, but none will ever compare to you. A pity you won’t wear colors.”

  “Pooh! Count me well satisfied if Glee makes a fortunate match,” Felicity countered, not even bothering to cast a glance at her own reflection in the looking glass as she hurried from the room.

  She had already assured herself of Glee’s extremely agreeable appearance and now desired to have a brief conversation with Mr. Moreland before Glee came downstairs. She had asked Stanton to request Mr. Moreland await her privately in the library.

  As she entered the dark room where a lone candle burned, he quickly stood up and bowed. And her mind went blank. It suddenly struck her that she had never seen a more handsome man. He was so very large. And powerfully built. Pride and arrogance and an unexpected flicker of amusement marked his angular face and his black, all-knowing eyes.

  A duke could not have been more formidable nor better dressed. For despite Mr. Moreland’s casual simplicity of dress, his tailoring was impeccable. His black silk cutaway coat nearly matched the dark sheen of his casually styled hair, and the white of his linen was the same shade as his teeth.

  Felicity’s eyes traveled the length of Mr. Moreland’s classically formed body. She was reminded of Michelangelo’s David. And she swallowed. How could a man of his size maintain so flat a stomach and so narrow a waist? she wondered. His gray breeches seemed molded to his muscled thighs. She could tell no false supports were needed beneath his white silken stockings where his manly calves formed an admirable arch. If he had been the son of a beggar, he would still have women swooning after him.

  She recovered enough from her astonished perusal of his appearance to remember why she had desired to speak alone with him.

  “Sit down, please,” she requested, taking a seat herself. “I will be brief so your sister does not have a lengthy wait in the carriage.” She shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet his open g
aze. “It has occurred to me that when I introduce you tonight I cannot very well say we are acquaintances because you relieved my family of debt.”

  He oozed confidence when he responded. “No, not at all. Have you an idea as to how we have become acquainted, Mrs. Harrison?”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “Actually, yes. I thought perhaps I could say that your aunt, who is a very good friend of mine, sent me a letter of introduction to you.”

  He nodded, but a coldness in his eyes told her he was not completely in accord with her scheme.

  “Clever of you,” he said. “My nonexistent aunt, by virtue of being friends with you, should add rank and respectability to the merchant from India.”

  She raised her shoulders and dropped them in exaggerated fashion, then spoke sharply. “One would think you’d be pleased, Mr. Moreland.”

  “Pleased that you will lie for me?”

  He did it again. He made her feel embarrassed and ashamed. And she disliked him excessively.

  “Think you I should be pleased that you find me so low you have to invent relatives of rank for me?”

  “Very well, Mr. Moreland,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “I shall tell everyone you are merely a merchant who desires to foist his sister into a higher class.”

  His eyes flared in anger. “You will do no such thing.”

  “Then what do you desire that I say?”

  His voice was low, and something in his manner evoked sorrow when he spoke. “You can say I am renewing an acquaintance begun many years ago.”

  What a paradox the man was! First, not wanting her to lie about the aunt, then encouraging her to lie about their friendship. She fleetingly wondered if they actually had met before, but she recalled names as a mother remembers her offsprings’ birthdays, and she was sure she had never met a Mr. Thomas Moreland. “Very well,” she snapped, rising and stomping from the room.