by Locke, Laura
That evening, Henry visited. Matilda and he walked in the mauve dusk. He smiled down at her.
“Matilda,” he said, eyes warm with love. “I have something to say.”
“You have?” she looked up at him, heart beating fast.
“Well, I said it weeks ago. And I say it again. Love of all my heart, will you have me?”
Matilda felt her knees give way as a sob filled her. She nodded, beyond words.
“Well, then,” Henry smiled. “I have something to ask your father. If I may?”
“Yes,” she nodded, crying. “You may.”
Chapter 28
The spring had given way to summer, Matilda thought, smiling as she sat at her table in the bedchamber. The window was open and a soft breeze, warm with morning, ruffled the curtain across from her.
It was a lovely day, Matilda noticed, feeling a lump in her throat. Which was, after all, a good thing. Because it was a very special one for her: her wedding day.
“And the gown is here, milady.”
“Thank you, Stella.”
Matilda turned to look at her maid fondly. Then she stood and let her help her into the gown, laughing as she did up the corset only a very little.
She smoothed her hands down the chiffon over-skirt, marveling at its finery. The dress was simple – a long sheath of white satin, falling from below her breasts, to just above her ankles. The skirt was covered with a gauzy layer of the same white chiffon that formed the sleeves. The bodice was plain, the neck a wide oval. The veil was chiffon too, and set about her head in a wreath of orange flowers.
She breathed in, smelling their fragrance and smiled at Stella, who clasped her hands, exclaiming that she looked “a picture.”
She looked in the mirror at herself. Stared.
A tall, willowy lady looked out at her, the pale hair arranged elegantly but in a loose style that complimented her heart-shaped, elfin looks. Her blue eyes looked back at her and she smiled.
“Is that me?”
Stella laughed. “Fancy such a question! Who else is it?”
They both laughed.
“Matilda?”
Stella turned to see her sister in the doorway, a vision of loveliness in a lavender gown. She smiled at her.
“You look beautiful, Pauline.”
Pauline smiled, eyes bright with tears. “You, too, sister.”
They went downstairs together, to where the carriage waited. Matilda climbed in and then Pauline followed, Mother and Father opposite. They went to the chapel on their estate, then stopped.
“Come, my dear.”
Her father, standing straight outside the door, smiled up at her. Swallowing hard, Matilda slipped out and walked beside him, Pauline behind her and their mother behind Pauline. Through the high, arched doors of the chapel. On her father's arm.
As she walked up the aisle, the music starting up, Matilda felt her throat close with feeling.
Then she looked up along the aisle to where Henry stood. Tall in a pale blue coat and hose, his pale hair shining in the light from the high windows, he was everything her heart loved and she could look nowhere else.
The priest stepped forward, smiling at them, as she took her place by Henry's side. She felt her father step back and she felt a little stab in her heart at that. Then she looked up into Henry's eyes and all her sadness melted in the fire of her joy.
The ceremony was brief. They said their vows.
“I do,” Henry said, his voice steady and sure.
“...and do you, Matilda Cornelia Denthorpe, take thee Henry Plowden to be your lawful wedded husband?”
“I do.”
There. She had said it. They were wed! It seemed unbelievable, but she looked at the priest who was smiling, seeming as happy as she was as he said the closing words.
They were wed.
She looked up at Henry, feeling confused as he turned to her, lifting the veil. Then she remembered. They were wed. He could kiss the bride.
As his lips came down on hers, gentle and tender, moving across them with all the care and knowing of a river lapping the banks, she felt her heart melt. She was Henry's wife.
The rest of the ceremony moved past in a blur as they walked down the aisle together, arm in arm and then climbed up into the open carriage, decked with greenery and summer flowers.
Henry stood and threw the customary pennies to the townsfolk, who stood, cheering, on the estate to wish them well. Matilda waved to her family where they stood, waiting to wish her well. Then the carriage drew on, drawing her the not too distant way towards her new life at Macefield and together with Henry.
She could not have been happier. No-one could. She was with Henry and they loved each other and her heart soared with the bluebirds that flew across the sky above the coach.
Epilogue
Matilda woke and rolled over, feeling a warm presence beside her in the bed. She smiled, cheeks reddening as she recalled the night before.
“Henry?”
“Matilda.”
He held her close. Matilda closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. She let herself doze, content and happy. She could not remember ever feeling this wonderful.
“Henry?”
“Mm?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, my dearest.”
They lay together for a long while. Henry breathed slowly and Matilda wondered whether he slept. She half-sat, looking out of the filmy curtains and at the sunlit hillside beyond the window.
“Matilda?”
“Oh! Henry,” Matilda smiled, feeling a slow warmth fill her as he opened his eyes and smiled at her. “I thought you slept.”
“I did, for a while,” he agreed, reaching for her. She slipped down to lie beside him.
“My dear?”
“Yes?”
“I was thinking, we should go up to the estate regularly. We will, won't we?”
“Of course we shall,” Henry soothed. “I like Pauline too and I wouldn't see you two parted for anything.”
Matilda grinned at him, glad that he had guessed her concern.
“Not that Pauline will be there always, mind,” she agreed. “I'm sure she'll wed soon,”
“I'm sure,” Henry agreed. “Two such beauties as you and your sister...it's the least I expect.”
Matilda snorted. “I shall take that as a compliment,” she said loftily. He laughed. “But I do hope she doesn't feel a need to fulfill Mama's ambitions,” she added with a frown.
“I am sure your Mama will consider happiness ahead of ambition now that your father is recovered so completely.”
“I am sure, too,” Matilda said, feeling relieved. She snuggled closer to Henry. He kissed her. His lips were tender on hers, and tasted sweet. Matilda wriggled closer and he held her against his strong chest. She felt herself drifting off. A pleasant thought came to her.
“Henry?”
“Yes, dear?”
“When we have a son, can we call him after you and Papa?”
She heard the small, damp sound of Henry's lips moving back over his teeth and knew he grinned. “You'd name him Henry?” He sounded pleased.
“William Henry.”
“Of course we could. And a girl?” he asked.
“Pauline.”
Henry smiled and kissed her. “Of course we may. Though I would like to call our next daughter, or perhaps the one after that, after you, my sweetling.”
“Second or third daughter!” Matilda sat up, affronted. “Now, Henry, you are getting a little ahead of yourself.”
He let out a loud laugh.
“My dear,” he said, when she had slipped back down to lie beside him, “I don't mind if we have no children, or three, or a dozen. We shall have as many as you like. All that matters to me is that you are here, beside me. And that we will be like that for all our days.”
“We shall.”
After that they dozed a while, both content and happy. The morning progressed beyond the windows
, but they barely noticed. All they noticed, on waking, was each other. They were so very happy together.
Lady in Love
Prologue
Pauline gasped as Valerian kissed her. His lips were so meltingly soft on hers, so tender. She smiled and leaned against him, relishing his lean body against her. The genteel upstairs parlor vanished before her and all that existed was his arms around her until he stepped back, looking down at her.
“Valerian?” she said.
“Mm?” he asked.
“It doesn't seem possible we've been wed for a year.”
“Good Heavens! Has it really?”
Pauline laughed, black curls swinging against her shoulders. “You know it has, Valerian.”
He grinned. “I do know, sweetling. I just can't quite believe my luck.”
“You are dear, Valerian.” Pauline's smile curved her pink lips sweetly.
“Pauline.”
He growled her name and drew her into his embrace, holding her close. She could feel his hard, muscular body under the thin linen shirt he wore and she relished the scent of him – musk and something spicy and warm.
As she leaned on him she let her mind wander to when they first met, over a year ago now. She shuddered as she recalled the dangers they had faced.
It's all behind me now.
She had been threatened, attacked by brigands, abducted. A whirlwind of terror and suspicion that sought to part her from Valerian. It all seemed so distant and surreal at that moment: Now, she was here and he was in her arms and all was well.
It had been a hard road, Pauline thought as she and Valerian moved gently apart. But it had brought her to a wonderful place.
As she settled down on the chaise-lounge and Valerian resumed writing at the desk, she studied him covertly: lean face, blue eyes, dark hair. He was so handsome she felt a shiver of excitement.
In his dark blue coat and tight-fitting trousers, he looked every inch the noble duke he was.
From being the daughter of an earl, Pauline had risen to become the duchess of Harrington. But that had not meant anything to her when first she met Valerian. They had met, she recalled, in the most unexpected way. But it had been love at first sight.
Now, watching her handsome duke and soldier, Pauline let her mind wander back to that day, more than a year ago, when they had met. It didn't seem possible that such a chance occurrence could have brought such immense joy.
But it had, Pauline thought, smiling as she lifted her novel to read. It had.
Chapter 1
“Matilda, do stop!”
Pauline and her sister Matilda shared a wry glance as their mother's drawling protest filled the room.
“Yes, Mother,” Matilda sighed. “I just can't help checking if he's here yet.”
“Well, don't. It's wearing on my nerves awfully.”
Pauline bit back a smile. Their mother, Lady Braxton, was formidable; five foot ten inches of indomitable willpower, cunningly dressed in the latest velvet gowns. She did insist on her delicate constitution: a fact that did rather amuse her daughters.
Another voice interrupted them. “Has anyone seen Hudson? He was supposed to brush out my velvet suit...”
Pauline and Matilda both looked up to see their father, Lord Braxton, Earl of Albury, in the doorway. Pauline smiled. “I just saw him as I came downstairs, Father. Try the scullery.”
“Oh. Capital, Daughter. My thanks.”
He turned in the doorway and wandered carefully out again, his steps a little unsteady as he negotiated the hallway.
Matilda and Pauline looked tenderly at him as he left. Still delicate, but so much better than he had been following his illness, their father was by far the more frail of their parents. Both girls loved him for his gentle heart. When he had gone, Lady Braxton cleared her throat.
“I hope you shan't be dancing tonight, Matilda,” she said firmly.
“Oh, Mother,” Matilda smiled. “I don't have to be that careful this month!” She was almost eight months with child and, according to custom, would soon be confined to her bedchamber for the last month of her pregnancy.
Pauline nodded. “You're right, sister.”
Matilda shot her a big grin. Always pert and pretty, Matilda had a genuine beauty now that made Pauline catch her breath as she looked at her.
My little sister has matured.
It was a thought that made Pauline feel a little odd. She was two years' Matilda's senior and unwed. Not that it bothered her overmuch. As the eldest daughter of the earl of Albury, and a society beauty, Pauline was sure she would not lack for potential husbands. Already, there was a suitor in the background.
I only wish I liked Cornelius a little more.
Cornelius, Lord Stanmore, was her mother's choice for her. An earl recently come into his title and a fine, respectable man, he was exactly what Lady Braxton would have called “the right sort.” But he was aloof, arrogant and disinterested in almost everything except the chase and parties. Pauline found it impossible to say more than two sentences to him.
Sometimes I wish I could make my own choice.
She noticed their mother had resumed her needlework, and so stood and walked to the window, feeling suddenly restless. Matilda joined her.
“I saw you, Matilda,” their mother called without looking up. “Do sit still! All this fidgeting will wear on my nerves.”
Matilda laughed. “I can't wait for Henry to get back!”
“You've been apart for five hours!” Mother protested.
Pauline and Matilda laughed.
“Oh, but Mama!” Matilda insisted, “I usually see him all day.”
Their mother sighed. “Matilda, I assure you a moment out of your sight doesn't mean he's in another country. He's in Braxley, seeing the carter.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“I know!” Matilda laughed. “But I'm excited for his arrival.”
“Modern girls,” their mother lamented, shaking her head as she cut off one of the threads.
Pauline and Matilda stayed where they were, looking out on the grounds. It was summer, and the green grass sparkled under sunshine. The roses bloomed and the hedges were verdant green. Pauline suddenly found herself longing to be outside. She hardly ever saw her sister and now, more than anything, it would be nice to talk to her alone.
“Shall we ride, Matilda?” she asked
Matilda frowned. “I'm not sure if I...”
Whatever she was planning to say was cut off by the arrival of the housekeeper, Mrs Marwell.
“A message for you, ma'am,” she said. She was looking at Pauline.
“Oh?” Pauline frowned. Who would be sending her a message? “Did he say what it was?”
“No, milady. Just said it was urgent.”
“Urgent?”
“Yes, milady. You'd best come at once.”
Pauline glanced worriedly at Matilda, who lifted her shoulders in an endearing shrug. “I'll see you later, Sister. I do only leave tomorrow.”
“See you in a moment.” Pauline smoothed a hand down her blue gown and hurried downstairs, feeling a sense of urgency. As she walked briskly to the entrance hall, she collided with something hard and stumbled backward.
“Oh!”
Her cry of fright was immediately interrupted by a deeper voice.
“Oh, milady! I'm so sorry. Forgive me!”
Pauline, feeling a little dazed, looked up and focused her eyes. She was looking into a face. Lean and handsome, with fine bones and sapphire eyes, it was easily the most handsome face she had ever seen.
Heart thudding, she stood back, hands neatly smoothing her skirts; a nervous habit. “I'm sorry, my lord,” she said quickly. “I was in a hurry.”
“Allow me to apologize,” he said in a deep voice. “I was in a rush and didn't see you.”
“Me, too,” Pauline said. Their eyes met and he smiled nervously at her. Pauline swallowed hard.
“I beg your pardon.” He bowed.
“It is granted
,” Pauline said shakily. “But sir? I need to fetch a message...” she indicated the front door with a gesture where it stood open behind him.
“Oh!” he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Begging your pardon, milady. I believe it is me you seek! I have a message from Major Cartwright, commander of the local militia. For a Lady Pauline?” he smiled hopefully.
“Oh.” Pauline nodded. “It's me, yes,”
“My lady! My apologies.” he bowed again and handed her a folded square of parchment. Pauline took it.
“Thank you.” She did not read it, but put it in her drawstring purse absently. A military barracks existed not too far from Braxley, and the officers were regular attendants at the local parties. She presumed it was some sort of invitation. Quite why it had been so urgent, she was not sure.
His message delivered, the dark-haired man looked around. He licked his lips nervously.
“I am Valerian Harrington,” he explained. “Lieutenant in the Royal Cavalry. At your service, Ma'am.”
“I'm pleased to meet you, my lord.”
Pauline smiled as he bowed over her hand. When he lifted it to his lips, she felt a strange sensation flow through her. It felt as if her body melted a little. She tensed, not wanting to allow these strange feelings to overwhelm her politeness.
He looked up from where he bowed to her and those teasing blue eyes locked with her own, making her shiver.
“My lord...I should go,” she said carefully. She didn't want to. The thought of standing here in the hallway with him permanently was far too appealing. But she really should, or someone would see. If her mother saw her behaving in such a way about a mere lieutenant – lord or no – she would certainly disapprove.
“I know,” he said reluctantly. “I, too, should go.”
Neither of them moved.
“My lord, I...”
“If you will...”
They both spoke together. Pauline giggled apologetically and the lieutenant flushed scarlet.
