“I have never fainted, Cornelia. But food sounds delightful. What about Simon?”
“Simon was all nerves this morning, so Danvers insisted they go for a ride in Hyde Park. ’Twill do them both good.” Then with a wink, “And will keep them out of our way!”
“You and the baron are so good to us.”
“Nonsense. I am having fun. And to see Simon happy after all these years brings us great pleasure. As for you, I look forward to having many adventures together. Just think, when your husband is off on one of his voyages, and Danvers is buried in his political scrabbles in the Lords, you and I can go to Bath or Brighton. And I’ve a few ideas for charities that will be needed following the war. So many families will have lost their men folk. It’s a chance to do much good.”
Claire’s sprits rose thinking of the friend she now had. “Oh, Cornelia. I am so fortunate to have found you. I would love to help in your charities.”
“I am counting on it. And I know Danvers is expecting to be an honorary uncle to your children.”
The thought of children warmed Claire. Yes, she very much wanted to have Simon’s children.
“Come now, Claire, wipe that smile off your face and help me eat these pastries. I made sure they purchased some for us when the servants went for the sweetmeats for the wedding breakfast.”
Claire bit into a fig pastry and a question rose in her mind. “I wonder where we shall live. Simon told me he has a house in Rye, but he said something to my papa about a house in London.”
“You’ll be pleased to know that last night he told Danvers and your father about one of the newer houses in the Adelphi Terrace he wants to purchase. ’Tis a good location for a sea captain as it’s right on the Thames. I think after their ride this morning, they were planning to meet your father to view it.”
Claire picked up her cup of coffee. “It will make Papa feel better about leaving me here if he knows Simon has plans for a home.”
“It’s a lovely area, Claire. And the best part is that you will not be far away.”
When they’d finished their breakfast and had marveled over all that had happened to Claire since leaving the convent, Cornelia’s maid came to supervise the lads carrying pails of hot water to her chamber for her bath. At Cornelia’s request, the maid agreed to stay to assist Claire with her dressing.
Cornelia left Claire to her bath, but a few hours later returned with a box and a bouquet of flowers, which she set on the dressing table.
By that time, Claire was dressed.
“The men are back,” Cornelia announced, “and have dressed for the wedding. You must hurry. The guests are beginning to arrive.”
Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach, but Claire took a deep breath, resolving to stay calm.
Cornelia wore a gown of peach silk with lace at the snug-fitting bodice and sleeves. It was simple but elegant and went so well with her auburn hair and russet eyes.
“You look beautiful, Cornelia.”
“Danvers likes me in this color, so I wear it often. For your wedding, I wore my favorite.”
Picking up the box she had set on the dressing table, Cornelia said, “Simon brought this for you. I’m dying to know what jewels he has bestowed on his bride.”
Carefully, Claire opened the blue velvet box. “Oh my!” Sparkling inside was the most exquisite necklace of diamonds, rubies and gray pearls. Loops of diamond chains were draped over a thin collar of rubies. Hanging from the sparkling loops were pear-shaped pearls. “He must have remembered my wedding gown, Cornelia. Look how well this goes with the roses!”
“It would appear your sea captain has excellent taste. Those pearls are nearly silver. Here, allow me.”
Claire held out the box and Cornelia took the necklace and fastened it around Claire’s neck. In the box were also ear bobs of diamonds and the same pearls. When she put them on and stepped in front of the mirror, she was amazed at her transformation. No longer the young, convent student dressed in drab, dark blue, she was now a woman grown, adorned for her wedding. If only Maman could have lived to see this day. Would she approve? Somehow Claire thought the woman who had married a man who turned pirate for love of her would approve her daughter’s choice.
“I like what my maid did with your hair,” said Cornelia, fingering one long, dark curl. On the crown of Claire’s head was a mound of curls save for one long curl draped over her shoulder. “And the gown is just as lovely on you as I pictured it, Claire. So unique. I’ve not seen one in London to compete with the workmanship of these embroidered flowers. Why they almost appear real.”
“Papa was very proud of this gown. He selected both the fabric and the style. Your maid was kind to use the pressing iron to smooth the wrinkles. It was a bit crumpled as a result of our escape from Paris.” She did not mention the carriage ride to Dieppe or the gown’s brief sojourn on the deck of Simon’s cabin afterward.
“You are all ready, save for this.” Cornelia handed her the bouquet of orange blossoms that she’d brought with the jewel box. “It is tradition and represents the bride’s purity.”
Claire felt her cheeks flush. Simon had already claimed her virtue. Though the Reverend Mother would be horrified, Claire had no regrets. She had promised to marry him when he came for her in Paris. There would be no other for her. Only Simon.
He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when she and Cornelia began their descent, his gaze fixed on her as a smile began to spread across his face. The sea captain had once again become the well-attired gentleman but with a vigor in his appearance that bespoke of his days spent in the sun, his hands steady on the wheel of his ship. His golden hair was confined to a neat queue, his broad shoulders encased in a cinnamon jacket with gold buttons. Beneath it was an ivory waistcoat trimmed in gold braid and dark brown breeches that hugged his thighs. Instead of his boots, he wore silk stockings and black shoes with gold buckles. Her golden one waiting to claim her as his bride.
“You take my breath away, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear as she reached him and he offered her his arm.
“And you mine,” she whispered back.
The rising noise from the many voices in the parlor some distance away caused Claire to experience a sudden anxiety. It must be a large crowd. She had thought it would be a small affair. “You should have warned me.”
“’Tis only the same friends of the Danvers who came to the soirée,” he assured her. Then with a chuckle, “Well, and perhaps a few more.”
Coming up behind them, Cornelia said, “They want to see the woman who has captured the gallant Simon Powell. And I am certain word of your father’s coming has stirred quite a few to accept my invitation. Already the females attending are all a titter.”
“Cornelia, you will make Claire nervous,” Simon chided the baroness. Then he smiled at Claire and all in her world came right. “’Tis a grand day for a wedding, no?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, it is.” It was a grand day to leave the past behind and step into a future that was theirs. A future she very much wanted.
He covered her hand with his palm. “You are the most beautiful bride. But then your father has been telling me that for hours. In the spirit of comity, I felt compelled to agree.”
“You jest. But since it helps my nervous condition, I’m grateful. Oh, and thank you for the necklace. It is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever owned.”
“I’m pleased you like it. Of course, it’s your own radiance that makes the gems sparkle.”
She returned his brilliant smile.
They entered the parlor and her gaze was drawn to the many faces that turned toward them. Her papa, wearing a black velvet jacket and his burgundy waistcoat, waited just inside the door. “Claire.” His dark eyes sparkled as he smiled at her.
“Oh Papa!” So much emotion lay in their brief exchange. He kissed her on the cheek and took her hand from Simon and placed it on his own arm. Soon he would giving her back to her golden one for always.
The Anglican clergyman
was easily identified by his appearance and where he stood on the far side of the room. A white linen vestment covered his black robe and at his neck were white Geneva bands. Though his gray hair gave him a stern appearance, on his face was a smile, and for that, Claire was grateful. Did he mind that Simon was marrying a Catholic?
“Don’t worry, Claire,” her papa reassured her, patting the hand that rested on his arm. Then his eyes narrowed. “You want this, oui? It is not too late to change your mind. I could whisk you away to Paris where you’d have your choice of many men.”
“Oui, Papa, I want this. I love him.”
“Then you need only repeat the vows the minister gives you and you will belong to him. Baron Danvers does you an honor. The officiating clergyman is the Bishop of London.”
When they reached the bishop, she let her hand fall to her side and joined Simon who was waiting for her, so that she was now standing between him and her papa.
The bishop made a few brief words of introduction explaining the solemnity of the occasion and then began the ceremony. Simon took her hand in his warm grasp. She was glad for his strength as she was trembling.
“Dearly beloved,” the bishop began, “we are gathered together in the sight of God, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony… ”
Claire stole a glance at Simon. His face was inscrutable. Did he have second thoughts?
The bishop continued, “… and therefore it is not to be taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God….”
The bishop asked Claire if she would have Simon for her husband.
“I will,” came her reply.
Then the bishop asked, “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”
Her papa said, “I do,” and stepped back.
They exchanged vows and Simon placed a gold ring on her finger. She was certain it was the same ring he’d given her for their carriage trip to Rye. When she looked at him, questioning, he smiled. It is the same ring. Somehow that reassured her. Even then he had wanted her as his wife for he had purchased a ring too fine for a ruse. On her other hand she wore the blue moonstone ring her papa had given her, another symbol of love.
Holding her hand in his larger, stronger one, Simon said, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.”
Sill holding her hand, they knelt and the bishop prayed. Simon squeezed her hand, assuring her of his presence, his love. She said a silent prayer, thanking God for leading her back to her golden one.
When it was done, they rose and Simon leaned down and kissed her. It was a tender kiss but in his eyes she saw the promise of more. “Mrs. Simon Powell,” he said, “I like the sound of that.”
“Me, as well.”
Cheers went up from the guests as she and Simon turned to see their friends and well-wishers smiling at them. The bishop gestured them to a registry where they entered their names.
Her papa was the first to approach them. He shook Simon’s hand and embraced her. “I expect you to visit Paris from time to time.”
“I will Papa.” She turned to Simon, seeking his agreement. He nodded.
“And I will come here,” said her papa with a wink. “The war will be over soon and then I can travel more openly to England.”
He bid them well and turned aside as other guests approached. She looked over the shoulder of one smiling guest to watch her papa walk into the crowd and noticed the eyes of many women following him. So it is true what Cornelia said.
Lord Danvers joined them then, Cornelia at his side. “Congratulations, old boy,” he exclaimed to Simon. “You’ve done well.”
“And so has Claire,” Cornelia told her husband. “A fine match all around, one that happily keeps Claire in London. I couldn’t be more delighted.”
“Thank you for all you have done for us,” said Claire.
Simon chuckled. “Aye, well, I suspect a large part of it is wanting me out of their townhouse.”
“Too true,” chimed Lord Danvers. “But then you bring with you such interesting guests.” The baron looked toward a group of men standing to one side. Claire’s gaze followed.
“Simon, it’s some of the crew! Why, there’s Mr. Landor and Captain Wingate. Oh, and Mr. Busby and Mr. Hawkins. I almost didn’t recognize them in their fine clothing. It’s a far cry from the garb they wear on the ship.”
Cornelia and her husband, pulled away by some of their guests, provided Simon and Claire a moment alone.
“I suspect that was Jordan’s doing,” said Simon. “He wouldn’t let my men come in less than their best. And he could not have kept them away if he’d tried. They were determined to see us wed. Even young Nate is somewhere around here,” he said, casting his gaze about the crowded room. “Or he was earlier.”
Elijah Hawkins sidled up to them when he caught them looking his way. “Knew the cap’n was done fer the minute I saw ye,” he said to Claire.
She felt herself blush. She had no idea the old seaman had considered them a match.
“’Tis clear you were meant for each other,” said Mr. Landor, joining them, “and you make the captain very happy, madame.”
“Thank you, Mr. Landor,” she said, remembering his kindness in Calais. “I’m glad you and the others came to share this day with us.”
She had met John Wingate since she’d returned to London, but did not know him as well as the others. When he, too, came to join them, she held out her hand. He bowed over it. “I hope you do not hold against me or my papa your imprisonment in Lorient,” she said. Surely he must.
“It was war, Mrs. Powell, and ’twill soon be over. We are safely returned with none lost. For that I am most grateful. And I do not forget that you, too, were a prisoner. One, it seems, who has been captured for good.”
Simon chuckled. “Aye, ’tis true.”
She smiled, grateful for Mr. Wingate’s understanding.
Simon’s men waved as they walked away, promising to see them on the ship for Simon planned to sail to Rye the next morning.
Claire looked up to see M’sieur Bequel approaching her. He acknowledged Simon with a nod and then turned to her. “Little one, vous êtes très jolie, and the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. Alas, you marry an Englishman, but the Capitaine tells me you are happy, so I cannot object.”
She kissed him on both cheeks as was their custom. At her side, Simon bristled. She turned to him, “I have known M’sieur Bequel a very long time, my love.”
“It matters not,” he said. “I’m just stingy when it comes to your kisses.”
“Since her papa has given her to you with his blessing, Capitaine Powell, I wish you well.” He bowed and left them.
Simon leaned in close and whispered. “Coming from your father’s formidable quartermaster, that is a very large concession.”
She nodded. “Oh, look, Simon, there’s the American, Captain Field, over there with Cornelia. She told me she was going to try and obtain permission for him to attend. Isn’t it splendid she was successful?” She waved to the handsome, young captain. “Do you mind if I go and greet him?”
Simon let out a sigh.
“Simon, I’m a married woman now. You can hardly object to me showing kindness to one of Cornelia’s countrymen.”
“I suppose not. But only a quick greeting and then you’re mine. I’m hungry, and not just for food.”
Claire felt her cheeks heat. “You are incorrigible.”
“Aye, I am. But I’ve had only my men and Danvers for company. I long for yours.”
Chapter 23
Simon watched his bride walk toward the American captain who had once before stirred his jealousy. Field must have been given new clothes with his invitation as he was much better attired than when Simon had last seen him in th
e warehouse.
The American captain kissed Claire’s hand and Simon scowled just as Eden sidled up to him.
“Finally got to meet the infamous Jean Donet,” Eden said. “Was rather surprised that he seemed so much the gentleman.”
Simon wondered if Eden had forgotten his own spies could don a disguise if need be that rendered them quite different than their ordinary demeanor. “It’s a wedding, Eden, and he’s now my father-in-law. How would you expect him to act? And do not forget, he was raised a comte’s son.”
“Oh, trust me, Powell, I forget nothing. Might be able to use that connection at some point.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, but I would,” replied Eden. “Did you never wonder how it is he came to speak English so well?”
Simon shook his head. He had not given it much thought since Claire also spoke English.
“Seems he had quite a smuggling business into our southern ports at one time, Rye included. But then you were only a boy at the time. ’Twas before he became a pirate.”
“He is a pirate no longer.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
Simon shrugged. Donet was well able to take care of himself. It would be unwise of Eden to tangle with him, pirate or no.
Higgins stepped into the room and announced, “Breakfast is served.”
Simon reclaimed his bride and led her to the eating parlor, the ceiling of which he had long admired. Its corners featured casts of the four seasons: spring with garlanded flowers, summer with ears of corn, many fruited autumn and bearded winter.
The long table at which the guests were taking their seats was set with flowered china and crystal glassware. Simon thought the tall, silver candelabra marching up the center of the mahogany table surrounded by many hued flowers a bit much, but then it was a grand occasion. The grandest of his life. Cornelia had pulled out all the stops.
“It’s all so splendid, Simon,” Claire remarked as he escorted her to her chair.
“As long as it makes you happy, sweetheart.”
Danvers took his place at the head of the table and remained standing to greet the guests as the footmen poured champagne. Cornelia was just taking her seat at the other end with the young Duke of Albany on one side of her and some peer Simon thought he’d met at the soirée on the other.
To Tame the Wind (Agents of the Crown Book 0) Page 25
