THE BRIDE WORE BLUE

by Cheryl Bolen

  Like her.

  “I regret that we cannot ride today,” Thomas began, still without having acknowledged the colonel’s presence.

  “Yes,” she lamented. “Glee and I were so looking forward to it.”

  “We shall go when the weather clears, though I can’t tomorrow for I have business matters that will require my attention.”

  When, then? she wondered morosely.

  “If you are so keen to ride,” the colonel said, “it would be my pleasure to furnish you with a mount tomorrow—if the weather turns fair.”

  Suddenly the door to the room swung open, and George came bouncing in, his smile nearly stretching from ear to ear.

  Felicity was relieved she would be spared from having to answer Colonel Gordon. Her glance trailed from her brother’s wet mop of hair to his sodden boots. “Wherever did you go in this wretched rain?” Felicity asked George.

  “I had a deep desire to see Miss Moreland.”

  “Miss Moreland must count herself fortunate to merit such marked attentions from a viscount,” Colonel Gordon said.

  George’s eyes narrowed. “I hope, Colonel, you are not suggesting Miss Moreland suffers my company only for my title.”

  “Not at all, my boy. You have many fine qualities that I’m sure someone as lowly born as Miss Moreland must sincerely appreciate.”

  Thomas leaped to his feet, and George’s hand fisted. The two men shouted at the colonel at once.

  “You will apologize for calling my sister lowly born,” Thomas demanded.

  George spit out his words. “How dare you malign the woman I hope to make my wife!”

  Felicity jumped to her feet and placed herself between Thomas and the colonel, facing Thomas. “Please, Mr. Moreland, do sit down and cool off.”

  He met her gaze, then nodded softly and sat down.

  The colonel looked apologetically at George. “Terribly sorry, my boy, if I offended you—or your future wife. I am sure you and Miss Moreland will suit admirably. After all, there is nothing of the shop about her, and I must say she is quite lovely and comports herself in a genteel manner.”

  George’s hand unfisted, but he continued to glare at Colonel Gordon while imperceptibly nodding his forgiveness.

  “So is it official? Is Miss Moreland to become your wife?” Colonel Gordon asked.

  George’s glance shot to Thomas. “Mr. Moreland withholds his permission until I demonstrate sufficient maturity.”

  The four of them continued to sit in the drawing room for the next hour. Then Glee entered the room and sat beside George on the settee that faced Felicity’s. “Why did you take off this morning in the rain?” Glee asked George. “All morning the staff was abuzz with the news that Lord Sedgewick had lost his marbles and was walking about in a rainstorm.”

  “I wished to see Miss Moreland,” he answered.

  “Why couldn’t it wait until the rain stopped?” Glee asked.

  George shrugged. “I have been having a difficult time sleeping for thinking of Miss Moreland and hoping ... I wished to declare myself to her brother.”

  Glee shrieked in excitement. “That’s wonderful! Miss Moreland is to be my sister.”

  A look of disappointment disturbed George’s face. “Well. . . not yet, anyway. Her brother thinks I’m too immature.”

  “How dare he!” Glee said with outrage.

  The five of them continued sitting there. And none of them would budge. Felicity wished the colonel would leave so she could speak more freely with Mr. Moreland, but she knew he would likely die before he would allow her to be alone with Thomas. It was obvious each man wanted to outlast the other. How long, pray tell, would they sit here?

  When one hour stretched to two, Felicity stood up and addressed them. “You gentlemen are free to stay, but I really must leave. I have things that demand my attention now.”

  The colonel grasped his cane and pulled himself to a standing position. “I beg that you forgive me, madam, for keeping you from your duties.” He tossed an irritated glance at Thomas.

  Thomas stood up. “I, too, beg your pardon, Mrs. Harrison.”

  Felicity nodded at them and swept from the room, angry that she could not speak to Thomas.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The next morning’s sunny skies had offered Felicity fleeting hope she would be able to ride with Thomas; then she remembered him telling her the previous day that he had business matters that required his attention.

  Carlotta paid a morning call, which caused Felicity to wonder if her friend’s reason for coming was motivated by goodwill or by the expectancy that Thomas would call. A smug smile crept across Felicity’s face because Thomas was not coming. She felt as if she were scoring one against Carlotta.

  When Felicity entered the morning room, Carlotta was busy examining one of her lavender slippers. “I am so very vexed!” Carlotta said, stomping her shoeless foot. “I believe the wet pavement has positively ruined my shoes.”

  Felicity sat across from her. “Why did you not wear boots instead of slippers? Were you unaware of the huge amount of rain that fell yesterday?”

  A pout tugging at her face, Carlotta put her slipper back on. “Of course I was aware of the wretched weather! I thought I would go mad yesterday. I have never been so bored in all my life.”

  “Then you should have realized the pavement would still be wet—and possibly muddy today.”

  Carlotta shrugged. “I was fooled by the sun.”

  “The sun is rather welcome today, after yesterday. Is the air chilled?”

  “No, it’s quite pleasant with no more than a pelisse.”

  “Then I propose we go for a walk,” Felicity said.

  Carlotta rolled her eyes. “I’ve never known one such as you who would rather walk than ride.”

  “But neither of us has a means of riding,” Felicity pointed out.

  “Well, not today, of course, but other times—when you do have a choice—you still promulgate walking.”

  “It has been my observation that those who seldom walk have a tendency toward corpulence,” Felicity said.

  Realizing Carlotta would not budge until she was assured Thomas wasn’t coming, Felicity added, “A pity Mr. Moreland must conduct estate business today.”

  “He told you?”

  Felicity nodded. “Yesterday.”

  Carlotta could barely conceal her jealousy. “He called here yesterday?”

  “Yes. By the way, I must tell you our family’s delightful news.”

  Carlotta’s face went white.

  Felicity could not resist dragging out her information awhile longer. Uncharitably, she rather enjoyed watching her rival squirm. “There’s to be a wedding.”

  Carlotta swallowed; then she spoke in a shaking voice. “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. Can you imagine my house uniting with that of a bookseller’s offspring?”

  Carlotta was unable to answer.

  “George desires to marry Miss Moreland, and she looks favorably on his suit,” Felicity said.

  A smile broke across Carlotta’s face. “Then he’s offered for her?”

  “He spoke to Mr. Moreland, who desires that George wait until he is a bit more mature.”

  “What a wicked thing for Mr. Moreland to do! Does he not realize Lord Sedgewick is a very good catch for his sister?”

  Felicity shrugged. “I must admit I’m most vexed with him.”

  “You do not object at all to Dianna Moreland’s misfortune of birth?”

  Carlotta certainly didn‘t. “I know of no one noble born who is more a lady than Miss Moreland.”

  “If they should marry, your papa would likely roll in his grave,” Carlotta said bitterly.

  Felicity could not bear for anyone to malign Thomas’s family. Neither he nor Dianna warranted it. “You know the lame little boy in front of the milliner’s?”

  Carlotta nodded. “He’s much the age of my own lad.”

  “Mr. Moreland—anonymously, you must understand—has
been helping the boy. He hopes the boy will one day be able to walk. Please don’t tell Mr. Moreland I told you. He doesn’t like for people to know of his many charities. He has paid for the lad to see the best doctor in Bath. He’s determined the lad’s misshapen legs come from having little sunshine and no citrus. Therefore, he sees to it the lad gets fresh oranges and sunshine every day. Mr. Moreland even instructs his groom to take the boy pony riding each day.”

  Carlotta’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know all this?”

  “I deduced it on my own, if you must know. The lad’s mama doesn’t even know her son’s benefactor’s name. From her description, I surmised it was Mr. Moreland. Then Glee tricked him into admitting it.”

  Carlotta shrugged with feigned disinterest. “It’s not as if he doesn’t have hoards of money.”

  Yet Felicity knew the first chance Carlotta faced Thomas alone, she would gush rapturously over his benevolency. Even if Felicity had told her not to mention it.

  Felicity got to her feet. “Come, let’s walk to Crescent Fields.” Then with a sheepish smile, Felicity added, “You mustn’t allow yourself to become corpulent.” She smiled wickedly at the picture of a fat Carlotta.

  On those words, Carlotta sprang into her sodden slippers. The two women donned their pelisses, then left the town house.

  “I do hope the weather stays this fine,” Felicity said, once they were on the pavement.

  “I believe it will. You can see the sky is cloudless.”

  They strolled toward Gay Street.

  “I have the most wonderful idea!” Carlotta said. “We could get a party of us to have a picnic at the old ruins over in Hammersmith tomorrow.”

  A smile crossed Felicity’s face. “That would be pleasant, would it not? Who would come?” From the corner of her eye, she saw they were nearing the milliner’s where little Jamie played with his tin soldiers on the pavement.

  Carlotta did not spare him a glance. “Your family, of course. You, Glee, and Lord Sedgewick. Me. Mr. and Miss Moreland. Colonel Gordon and Mr. Blankenship.”

  “It would be fun. Why do you not tell Mr. Moreland of your proposal. Perhaps he will offer his cook to prepare the baskets. I daresay he can afford it far more than you or I,” Felicity said.

  “I thought perhaps your family had come into money lately. How else could you have afforded a new wardrobe for Glee as well as the new dresses you have?”

  “It’s much easier to hang on to one’s money when one’s brother is not deep in play.”

  “I didn’t know he had changed.”

  Felicity nodded. “He hasn’t gamed at all in the past week and had cut down considerably before that. You knew he sold his horse, did you not?” Felicity commended herself on her ability to skirt the truth about their source of income while not actually lying.

  “So the proceeds from his horse bought your new dresses?” Carlotta said thoughtfully.

  Let her think that. “Since there’s no entertainment tonight, how will you inform everyone of the picnic?”

  Carlotta thought on this a moment. “I believe I’ll send around notes.”

  They came upon the Royal Crescent and then turned into the nearby park and strolled beneath the still-barren tree branches. As they were walking about the park, Thomas pulled up in his phaeton, got down, and tethered his horses. Then he joined them.

  “I thought you had business matters to tend to today,” Felicity said by way of a greeting. “I just finished.” He bowed to her first, then to Carlotta.

  Carlotta’s lavender eyes sparkled. “How fortuitous for us you were driving this way.” “Fortuitous for me,” he said. “I must tell you of my exciting scheme.” Carlotta linked her arm through Thomas’s. “Tomorrow we shall all go for a picnic at the Roman ruins in Hammersmith. Have you been there, Mr. Moreland?”

  “No. How far away are they?”

  She shrugged and glanced at Felicity. “How far would you say, Felicity?”

  “An hour. No more.”

  He looked up at the skies. “I believe the rain has left us, and I think your scheme excellent. Should you like my cook to prepare the baskets?”

  Felicity and Carlotta exchanged amused glances. “How very kind of you to offer,” Carlotta purred.

  “How many shall there be?” he asked.

  “Eight,” Felicity answered instantly. “Three from my family, two from yours, Mrs. Ennis, Mr. Blankenship, and Colonel Gordon.”

  At the last name Thomas frowned. “Must we invite all of them?”

  “Yes,” Felicity said with authority. Really, the two men were going to have to learn to get along with each other. After all, they traveled in the same circles and enjoyed the same group of friends.

  “Let’s see,” he said, “you, Mrs. Ennis, know of it. And Mrs. Harrison can inform her brother and sister, and I can inform my sister. Who does that leave to inform?”

  “Mr. Blankenship and the colonel,” Felicity said.

  “I’ll send them notes,” Carlotta offered.

  “Could you not misplace the colonel’s?” Thomas asked teasingly.

  “You know how distressed he would be were Felicity to picnic without him. ‘Twould surely break his heart. The man is totally besotted with her.”

  “Yes, I know,” Thomas said grimly. “I had the dubious pleasure of spending the afternoon with him at Mrs. Harrison’s house yesterday.”

  Carlotta pouted. “I shall be most jealous, Mr. Moreland, that you came to Mrs. Harrison’s house yesterday and not to mine.”

  “By the time I left Mrs. Harrison’s, it was far too late to call on you, my dear Mrs. Ennis.”

  “Whatever were you doing there for so long?” Carlotta asked.

  Thomas shrugged. “Wearing out our welcome, I daresay.”

  They all laughed at that. Then Thomas offered Felicity his other arm.

  She slipped her arm into his and became blazingly aware of his masculinity.

  “You will be most proud of me, Mr. Moreland,” Felicity said.

  “Why is that?” he asked.

  “Because I have memorized the words to your favorite Shakespearean sonnet.”

  A softness covered his tanned face. “Ah, Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?”

  “I should ever so much love to hear you say the words, Mr. Moreland,” Carlotta said.

  He turned to Felicity. “ ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath too short a date.’ ”

  It was as if he said the words to her. About her. Oh, my. Felicity’s heart beat faster with each word.

  He recited the words to only half the sonnet, then turned to Carlotta. “I daresay I’m boring you to tears, Mrs. Ennis.”

  “You could never bore me,” Carlotta protested. “And how true those words ‘summer’s lease hath too short a date.’ ”

  They walked in silence for a moment before Carlotta said, “I declare, I never can remember sonnets, but I recall they were so rigidly constructed I positively marveled at those who could write them. Sixteen lines, are they not?”

  “Fourteen,” Thomas answered.

  “Do you write poetry, Mr. Moreland?” Carlotta asked.

  “I do not possess that talent.”

  “Mr. Moreland’s talent is in memorization. He can recite poetry by heart and he has mastered several languages,” Felicity said.

  “I declare, Mr. Moreland, you are truly a marvel,” Carlotta said with admiration.

  Felicity began once again to long for that big handkerchief. Even more than that, she wished Carlotta to the devil and Thomas to herself.

  “Not at all,” Thomas protested. He turned to Felicity. “So you like my sonnet?”

  “ ‘Tis lovely, but I wouldn’t call it yours.”

  He laughed. “Are there others you admire?”

  “Many. ‘Herein lies wisdom, beauty, and increase; without this, folly, age and cold decay.’ ”

  His eye
s alive, he nodded knowingly. “A bit maudlin but very well written. Tell me, do you know ‘Those Lips That Love’s Hand Did Make’?” he asked.

  She smiled. “That followed it as gentle day doth follow night.”

  “Could you find Shakespeare’s works in India?” Carlotta interrupted.

  He shook his head. “I took my own.”

  “But surely you had no servants to carry trunks for you. I’d have thought you would merely have taken a single bag when you went to India.”

  “I did.”

  “How odd that you would choose to fill your limited space with books,” Carlotta said incredulously. “ ‘Tis exactly the same with Felicity. I declare the entire time we were in Portugal she had her nose in a book.”

  Thomas turned to Felicity and smiled warmly.

  On the way to Charles Street, Carlotta saw to it there was no more opportunity for Thomas to ignore her.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The next day dawned glorious and sunny for the picnic to Hammersmith, Thomas thought. The night before he had arranged that Mr. Blankenship call for the colonel, Carlotta, and Glee in his coach-and-four. Thomas would bring Dianna, George, and Felicity. He took perverse satisfaction in thinking of the colonel’s wrath over the transportation arrangements.

  If the colonel had wished Thomas dead before, he would surely want to run his sword through him now—especially if Thomas had his way this day.

  Today I will make Felicity mine. Such thoughts enabled Thomas to greet his valet cheerily and assist the man in selecting an especially taking suit of clothing in shades of brown ranging from chocolate to milked coffee.

  “I’ve never known you to be so particular in your choice of clothes before,” the valet said. “Have you something special planned for today, sir?”

  Thomas held out his arms for the valet to fasten his cuffs. “I do. If my plans go as I hope, perhaps I will become betrothed.”

  The valet’s eyes widened. “I was not aware you had a special lady.”

  Thomas smiled. “She is indeed special.”

  Once he was dressed, he left the room. “Wish me luck, Hopkins.”