by Liana Lefey
The day of the wedding dawned clear and bright. The pale pink gown she’d chosen—her favorite of the ones Papa had commissioned for a Season that would now never be—had been hung last night and the moiré silk steamed free of every wrinkle. It still fit her, though it was a bit snug about the breasts, but it brought her no pleasure to put it on. A young lady’s wedding was supposed to be a dream fulfilled, a fairy tale ending full of hope and possibility. Her wedding was simply to be a ritual marking her acceptance of fate and the reality to follow.
Augie showed up after breakfast in response to her urgent summons, looking perplexed. Her brows rose on seeing Mary’s elaborate gown and carefully coiffed hair. “You said to wear my best, but seeing you, I suddenly feel underdressed. Are we going to a brunch picnic?”
Mary sat her down and explained that her affections for Lord Wayward had increased such that three days ago their mutual attraction had overridden all sense and restraint. “I know you cannot approve, but I could not help myself,” she said stiffly, determined not to cry as she lied to her best friend. “He is as passionate as the reverend is not, and I simply lost my head. He asked me to marry him at once, of course, and I accepted. I hope you can forgive me for not confiding in you until now—I feared you would think me fickle-hearted.”
Augie’s eyes, which had grown round with incredulity, softened at once. “Oh, my dear friend! You are anything but fickle. And there is naught to forgive,” she said, embracing her. “Cupid’s arrow sometimes flies in an unanticipated direction and strikes with unexpected swiftness. Though our courtship has been much longer, it took only a week for Mr. May to win my heart.”
She didn’t bother trying to hide her surprise. “You knew you loved him after so short a time?”
A sage nod preceded her friend’s answer. “Oh, yes. I would have married him that instant, but he is quite traditional and insisted on a long, proper courtship,” she said somewhat drily.
Mary gave her a rueful chuckle. “I’m afraid our impulsiveness has robbed us of the time to observe such proprieties. Which is why I asked you to come dressed in your best. I’m getting married today. In fact, they should be coming to collect me at any moment. Devlin returned only a few hours ago with the special license,” she said, justifying the fib to herself.
“You’re being married today?” squeaked Augie, hands flying to cover her cheeks. “Good heavens, I don’t know how you are so calm. I would be completely mad with nerves!”
It was almost enough to make Mary genuinely laugh. “I’ve done plenty of panicking over the last few days, I assure you,” she replied shakily. “And I’m really quite nervous. Will you walk down with me and bear witness?”
Augie’s eyes filled as she nodded. “Of course! Oh, I had hoped to be at your wedding and you at mine. It seems my wish is being granted—though not quite as I anticipated.” A mischievous smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “Mama will be beside herself when I tell her the news.” Her face brightened further. “Am I right in assuming you intend to stay in Harper’s Grove, as your soon-to-be husband has purchased Rosewood House?”
Mary smiled softly, warmed by the hope in her friend’s eyes. “Yes, and you and I shall have tea together every day, if we desire it!”
After making the final touches to her appearance, Mary embraced her friend, and together they descended the stairs. Before they reached the bottom, she stopped and twisted off the ring Devlin had given her. “Will you hold it for me until the appropriate time?”
Her friend’s eyes widened again as she received the jewel. “Good heavens,” she murmured. “He must be as rich as Midas.”
Mary merely gave her an enigmatic smile, hoping she wouldn’t ask from whence his apparent wealth had originated. They’d have to come up with some suitable story later.
Her mother met them at the bottom of the stairs. “He sent these for you,” she said quietly, holding out a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “There is a letter with them,” she added, handing it to her.
Giving the flowers to Augie to hold, Mary opened the letter.
My dearest Mary,
I know we are to be married in a short while, but I want you to know before we speak our vows before God and witnesses that I meant every word I’ve said over the past month. I love you, and I would have none but you for my wife. My deepest regret in all of this is the manner of our meeting. Had I known what was to come, that I would fall in love with you so completely as to forget all sense, I would have ensured our first encounter was quite different.
Having said it, I must also concede that it would likely not have been an auspicious meeting, as I was not then the man I am now. Knowing you has forever altered me, much for the better, according to my family. But you will be the judge of that in the years to come. Thus, the moment I regret most deeply—the instant I stepped into my brother’s shoes—is also my most prized, for it brought us together. In knowing and loving you, my life has gained meaning. Before meeting you, my compass had no true north. Now, however, I have found in you my guiding star and my purpose for being.
I will be faithful to you, Mary. I will strive to always be gentle and patient. I will never speak falsely to you no matter how trivial the issue called into question may be. If it takes the rest of my life to prove my love for you is true, then so be it. I will gladly devote to your happiness every minute of my every waking hour until my heart stops beating and my voice is forever silenced.
When I see you next, it will be to reaffirm these oaths and speak those that will make us husband and wife. Though the moment arrives through great pain, I hope one day you will remember it with joy. Until then, and ever after, I remain yours. —Devlin
Tears ran down her cheeks, and she blotted them hastily, lest they spot her gown.
“What is it?” asked her mother, her face tense.
The overabundance of emotion swelling within her breast wouldn’t allow for speech.
Augie gripped her arm, fear written on her face. “He is still coming?” she whispered anxiously.
“Yes, he’s coming,” she said, attempting to compose herself, her heart full despite the jaded voice of reason whispering that such pretty words had little meaning until proven by actions.
Have faith, said another voice from within the place where stubborn, inextinguishable hope had rekindled.
The bell rang, sending them scrambling to the salon.
A moment later, in walked Reverend Wayward. “I hope you don’t mind, but Devlin asked me to perform the ceremony, and I told him I would gladly officiate.” Smiling at Mary, he lowered his voice. “As lovely a bride as you make, I will admit to being delighted to call you ‘sister’ when it is done.”
Unexpected mirth welled within Mary as she regarded her soon-to-be brother-in-law’s relieved countenance, and in that moment she truly did forgive him. “For months I tried to get you to the altar,” she whispered, smiling. “This is certainly not how I imagined it happening, but I’m happy you’re here now in your official capacity rather than as my groom. It seems fitting somehow, that you should speak the words that will make us truly family.”
He smiled back, and the genuine warmth of it gladdened her. “Though you may not believe it, Dev does love you,” he quietly told her in earnest. “He may have been a black sheep before, but I can assure you he is no longer.”
She shot him a wry look and said with good humor, “Mama would drag out old adages concerning tigers and their stripes, I’m sure.”
“His wool was not always black, if it’s any comfort to you,” replied the vicar. “He may not have been ordained, but the principles we learned are as deeply ingrained in him as they are in me. He’s a good man who strayed from the path, but you’ve brought him back around. I don’t expect he’ll wander.”
The tightness inside her eased a bit more. He would know better than anyone else. “Thank you for saying so. I pray it’s true.”
And then there was no more time for talk, for the groom and the rest of his family arrived.
On seeing the anxious look in Devlin’s eyes, a strange peace settled over her. She no longer doubted his sincerity, and she believed he meant what he’d said in his letter. She also knew that, in spite of his past errors, he truly was the good man his twin had described.
Knowing you has forever altered me, much for the better…
Mary couldn’t deny it was the same for her. Before meeting him—not his brother, but him—she’d thought herself a humble, charitable person. But that had been the self-image of a girl who’d never truly witnessed or indeed understood hardship, and most of her charitable acts had been committed to fulfill a societal expectation and not because she’d been moved by compassion. In this manner, she’d gained a false sense of pride and had become pious and haughty in her heart, thinking herself above others when she was in truth no better than anyone. Though she’d volunteered at every fundraiser and bazaar benefiting the poor, none of those events had ever put her in actual contact with them. There had always been a buffer between.
Until she’d accompanied Devlin in fulfilling his brother’s duties.
Though he’d been in his brother’s guise, it was Devlin who’d shown her the meaning of charity and humility. His reproach for her initial, untoward reaction to Mrs. Small’s living conditions hadn’t been contrived. His kind and gentle demeanor, the respect he’d shown the poorest in their community—all of it had been genuine.
He’d had a profound influence on her. She’d been inspired to go out of her way to help people, even to donating her own slipper money to help provide adequate shelter for a family in dire straits. How many times had she walked past Mrs. Stone’s dilapidated house without seeing her need?
Devlin—not his brother—had opened her eyes.
The darkness that had overshadowed her heart lifted as Devlin repeated the sacred words that would unite them in marriage. It was right that they were doing this. He was the father of her child, a child conceived of passion—and, now that she could see it, of love. He might have been pretending to be someone else when they’d started down this road, but the man looking out of those larkspur eyes was no stranger to her.
I love him. I love Devlin Wayward. She did. Truly. Deeply. It was a startling realization to make as she was becoming his wife, but no less happy for its lateness.
Coming forward, Devlin held out his hand. When she laid hers in it, the feel of his hot, dry skin sliding against her palm sent a tremor though her body. It was all she could do to concentrate as they spoke their vows before God and witnesses. When he gently eased the ring onto her finger, the tremor turned into a shiver of anticipation.
“Mary, I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage,” he said, staring intently into her eyes. “With my body I honor you, all that I am I give to you, and all that I have I share with you…”
Certainty settled into her bones, a lingering warmth that promised safety and contentment as she then spoke her part. “I receive this ring as a sign of our marriage…”
Moments later, the smiling vicar of Harper’s Grove took their hands and joined them together, joyfully proclaiming, “Devlin and Mary have declared their marriage by the joining of hands and by the giving and receiving of rings. I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife. Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.”
Joy and contentment filled her as she and Devlin knelt for the blessing, until at last they stood again and faced each other. She answered the question in her husband’s eyes by coming closer and tilting her face up. As his lips met hers in a kiss that was infinitely tender, yet full of passion’s promise, Mary Wayward knew there would be no distance between her and this man ever again.
And that was perfectly fine with her.
Epilogue
Devlin lounged on the bench beside his brother, smiling as Mary and Diana exclaimed over the red booties Mrs. Small had crocheted for the newest member of the Wayward family, Daphne Wayward.
My daughter… Even after two months, the fact that he was now a father still stunned him.
His little girl had made her debut right on time—not that anyone but their family and the maker of the booties would ever know it, thanks to a long honeymoon spent in Greece. They’d returned early, out of concern for Mary’s delicate condition and, much to everyone’s surprise, Daphne had decided to come “a bit sooner than expected.”
His heart flipped as he watched Mary tenderly trace the delicate shell of Daphne’s tiny ear.
“I never thought I would see you so sentimental,” chuckled Daniel. “Or so content.”
“If I’m sentimental, it’s because I’m far happier than I deserve. And my contentment largely arises from the fact that my wife is so tolerant of my many faults,” Devlin replied with good humor. Gone was the sardonic, brooding man of his misspent youth. The halls of Rosewood House—home—rang with laughter. Mary’s was infectious, and he’d quickly learned to join in it. “You ought to find someone to tolerate yours, you know.”
His twin’s mouth hitched up at one corner. “I’ve yet to meet the saint able to tolerate me well enough to spend a lifetime together.”
“That’s the problem,” Devlin said at once. “You don’t need a saint. Two saints in the same household would make for unending boredom. You need a different sort of woman. One you can reform the way Mary reformed me,” he teased, laughing. “Trust me when I say England is full of women who are as bad as you are good. In fact, I’m sure I know several.”
“You mean ‘knew’,” corrected Daniel archly.
“Indeed,” he agreed, lifting his glass of lemonade in a salute. Other than a cup of strong tea every now and again, it was the stoutest thing he drank these days. And that was his own choice. He might claim that Mary had reformed him, but he’d wanted to change. Love had wrought in him the desire to be a better man. “In any case, I’m fairly certain none of them would recognize me as I am these days. Poor Miss St. Peters would think me a very dull sort now, I’m sure.”
There was a long pause before his brother replied, “Speaking of Miss St. Peters, did you happen to hear any news of her while you were in London last week?”
Devlin peered closely at him, not bothering to conceal his curiosity. “I thought you said you cared nothing for that lady’s affairs?”
His brother’s ears turned a most interesting shade of pink, and a distinctly uncomfortable expression stole over his features. “I don’t. I’m simply curious to know.”
Something about his evasive manner set off all Devlin’s internal alarms. Sitting up, he leveled a hard, penetrating stare at his twin. “Daniel, is there something you wish to tell me?”
Read about Rev. Daniel Wayward and Miss Olivia St. Peters in the exciting sequel: One Night of Sin
Acknowledgments
My husband and daughter, for their seemingly limitless patience and support.
Lane Heymont of the Tobias Literary Agency, for his faith and persistence.
Erin Molta, Senior Editor at Entangled Publishing, for catching all my oopsies and helping me turn a lump of coal into a diamond.
About the Author
Liana LeFey delights in crafting incendiary tales that capture the heart and the imagination, taking the reader out of the now and into another world. Liana lives in Central Texas with her dashing husband/hero, their beautiful daughter, and one spoiled-rotten feline overlord.
Also by Liana LeFey…
To Love A Libertine
Once a Courtesan
A Wicked Reputation
Scandal of the Season
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