Bride By Mistake

by Anne Gracie

  Bad enough to be shabbily dressed in the heart of fashionable London, but on top of it all, Bella was as nervous as a mouse about meeting Luke’s friends and family en masse.

  The foreign girl who trapped their darling into an unwanted marriage. The shabby foreign girl. But Luke was oblivious.

  “Nell and Harry will be staying at Lady Gosforth’s. You’ll like Lady Gosforth. A right old tartar, but underneath she’s got a heart of gold.” Before Bella could say a word, Luke stuck his head out of the window and shouted directions to the postilion.

  “How do you know this Nell would be willing to lend me a dress?”

  He snorted as if the idea of Nell’s refusing was ridiculous. “Nell’s more your style, too. She’s an elegant little thing. You’ll like Nell. She’s like you, a horsewoman to the fingertips.” He sat back and then gave a crack of laughter.

  “What?”

  “I can’t wait for my friends to meet you.”

  “Why?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I told them to expect a demure and obedient little convent girl, someone who’d been patiently sewing samplers all these years.”

  She snorted.

  He laughed again. “Exactly! They’re going to love you.”

  She smiled and gazed out of the window. Of course it would be nice if his friends loved her, but she really didn’t care. There was only one man she wanted to love her, and he was oblivious.

  They reached Lady Gosforth’s town house, but to Luke’s dismay they found that Nell, Harry, and Lady Gosforth had already left for the pre-ball dinner. Even Lady Gosforth’s dresser had gone out for the evening.

  “However, Cooper, Lady Nell’s own maid, is upstairs, Lord Ripton,” Lady Gosforth’s butler said. “Would you like me to summon her?”

  “The very thing, Sprotton. Fetch her down at once,” Luke said, and in a short time a pretty, young, smartly dressed maidservant appeared.

  Luke explained what was wanted. Cooper looked at Bella and her eyes lit. “Oh, sir, I think I have the very thing. And no, miss, I mean m’lady, Lady Nell wouldn’t mind a bit. In fact when we got the dress home, we decided the color wasn’t quite right on her. It’ll be perfect for you, miss, trust me.” She ushered Bella upstairs and Luke went around the corner to his lodgings to change.

  In thirty minutes, Cooper did what Luke had failed to do in several weeks of marriage: convinced Bella of the benefits of having a good maid.

  Bella stared at her reflection in the looking glass. “It’s a miracle,” she breathed. If the girls in the convent could only see her now. Less than half an hour, and yet nobody would have guessed that Bella hadn’t spent half the day primping.

  Cooper laughed. “No, m’lady, but it’s a fact that this dress suits you better than it ever did Lady Nell.”

  “It’s the dress and the magic of Cooper,” Bella insisted. The dress, in green and bronze silk, fitted her perfectly, as did the corset designed for the dress. She didn’t look skinny anymore; she looked… slender. And elegant. Even fashionable. And with a delicious hint of bosom.

  Cooper had done something magic with her hair, too, braiding it in an elegant variation of her usual coronet, and weaving in bronze and green and cream ribbons.

  A whiff of the hare’s-foot over her complexion, the merest breath of rouge on her cheeks and lips, and Bella barely recognized herself. It was about as far from the way she’d looked when she’d met Luke at the convent as it was possible to be. Thank goodness.

  “Now for a shawl,” Cooper said, opening a chest.

  “What about this?” Bella produced her cream silk shawl.

  “Oh, m’lady, it’s gorgeous,” Cooper breathed. “I’ll just press the wrinkles out of it, and it’ll be perfect.”

  “And… pearls?” She took out her mother’s pearls.

  “Perfect, m’lady, just perfect. You look an absolute picture, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  Bella took a deep breath before she began the descent down the stairs. Dressed like this, she felt up to any gathering of friends and relatives. She hoped Luke approved.

  She was a third of the way down when Luke appeared at the foot of the stairs. Bella almost stumbled. He’d always looked handsome, but now, freshly shaved and dressed in full formal evening dress, he looked utterly magnificent.

  She must have made a sound, because he looked up. And froze.

  She forced herself to keep walking. Absurd to be so nervous of her own husband looking at her, but… They weren’t butterflies in her stomach; they were sparrows. Whole flocks of them, circling and dipping.

  His eyes, a deep, glittering blue, devoured her. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his face… it made her chest thicken and her heart pound.

  For the first time in her life, she felt—no, she knew she was beautiful.

  Sprotton had sent away the yellow hire carriage, and Lady Gosforth’s landau awaited them. Luke handed Isabella up. “You know,” he said, as the carriage moved off, “there’s something I’ve neglected to tell you.”

  “Oh?” It sounded important.

  “Yes. It occurred to me just now when you came down the stairs looking more beautiful than any man’s wife should look.”

  “Oh.”

  “I should have said it a long time ago.”

  “Oh?” It was ridiculous; she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Her heart was beating so fast. The carriage slowed. Were they there, already?

  “Yes, back on the boat. Or the carriage. Or even before that, at Castillo de Rasal.” He frowned. “Possibly even at Valle Verde. Or at Ayerbe in the Inn With No Fleas—” The carriage stopped. He looked out of the window. “Ah, we’re here. I’ll tell you later.”

  She grabbed his wrist. “Don’t you dare tease me like this, Luke Ripton. Just tell me now!”

  He looked at her, a little smile playing around his lips. “It’s not urgent. It’ll keep.”

  “Luke!”

  His voice deepened. He leaned forward and drew her into his arms. “It’s just this: I love you, Isabella Ripton. I have for I don’t know how long. It might have been at the convent, or later at—”

  A servant pulled the carriage door open. “Lord Ripton, you’re home!” the man exclaimed joyfully.

  Luke chuckled and pulled back from the kiss he’d been about to give her. “See, I said I should tell you later.”

  Bella was too stunned to move. “You love me?” she repeated blankly.

  The servant gave her a startled glance, looked at Luke, grinned, and promptly began to close the carriage door.

  “No.” Luke stopped him. He took Bella’s hand. “Come, my love, they’re all waiting for us. I sent a note around. Dinner has been put back.”

  She followed him in a daze. He loved her? Or was that just something he said to make them all feel better about the marriage? He’d said it in front of his servant, after all.

  Oh, it didn’t matter. He loved her; he’d said so. She didn’t care if it was a ruse or not. For tonight, she’d just believe it. Tonight she felt beautiful and her husband had told her he loved her. It was enough.

  She entered the house in a daze, and she spent the whole evening in a daze. She met dozens of people. His family were all natural beauties. She was the ugly duckling among them, but tonight she didn’t care. He loved her.

  His friends were all tall and amazingly good-looking. Not as good-looking as Bella’s husband. And he loved her.

  Somehow—she had no idea how—she got through the dinner. And then the orchestra struck up the first waltz. Luke had promised the first waltz to his little sister, Molly. It was a long-standing promise, and Bella was glad he was able to honor it, even if she had to resign herself to sitting out the dance with Luke’s mother.

  She could manage some of the country dances—they were similar to dances she’d learned as a child—but she didn’t know how to waltz. Luke had tried to give her a lesson in waltzing on the ship coming over, but the sea wasn’t exactly smooth and it had been one-two
-three-stagger, one-two-stagger.

  She sat with Luke’s mother and Lady Gosforth and watched Luke and Molly twirling around the floor. She vowed to learn as quickly as possible. It looked like fun.

  And then it was the second waltz. Luke’s friend Harry bowed and led Molly out onto the floor. Molly was glowing with happiness. She didn’t just have one big brother; she had four.

  “My waltz, I believe,” Luke said and bowed before Bella.

  “No,” Bella said, and then realized it sounded rude, and Luke’s mother was right there, watching. “You know I can’t waltz.”

  “You managed perfectly well on the ship.”

  “It was only once, and it was all one-two-stagger, because of the waves,” she explained to his mother. She turned back to her husband. “I can’t, Luke. I’ll make a complete mess of things.”

  “Nonsense,” Luke said briskly. “All you need to do is trust yourself to my lead.” He glanced at her face and laughed. “Oh well, one-two-stagger will do nicely. It’s so crowded nobody will notice. And if they do, we shall set a trend. Come, wife, you vowed to obey me. At least make a pretense of doing so in public.” He took her hand and almost dragged her onto the floor, ignoring her arguments, teasing her, and laughing.

  Lady Gosforth, seeing Lady Ripton’s face, broke off from the comment she’d started to make. “Oh my dear, whatever is the matter?”

  Lady Ripton’s gaze was fixed on her son and his wife. Her eyes were filled with tears.

  “Is it the little Spanish gel? Has she upset you?” Lady Gosforth began.

  Lady Ripton shook her head. “Look at my son,” she whispered. “Look at him, Maude.”

  Lady Gosforth lifted her lorgnette and peered at Lady Ripton’s son. “What? Looks a damn sight better than he’s looked for years, if you ask me.”

  “Exactly. That little Spanish girl—” Lady Ripton mopped away a fresh surge of tears. “Look at him, Maude—he’s laughing. He’s teasing her. He’s dancing. That dear, dear child has brought my son back to me.” She sobbed happily.

  “My dear, yes, I see it,” Lady Gosforth murmured.

  “All the boys came back changed. Harry and Gabe and my dear Rafe—you know as well as anyone the darkness they brought back from the war.”

  “All had demons riding them,” Lady Gosforth agreed. “Wild to desperation, every one of ’em.”

  “And Luke was the worst. But over the years, I’ve watched each one of those boys settle down, fall in love, become… happy. But not my Luke, never my Luke.” She wiped her eyes. “And when he told me he’d married a foreign girl when he was just nineteen and she thirteen… Of course I expected the worst. I’ve been so deeply distressed about the whole thing—well, you know all about it. But look at them, Maude. Just look at my son and that wonderful girl.”

  On the dance floor Isabella was twirling lightly in Luke’s arms as if she’d been doing it all her life, gazing up at her husband, her hand clasped against his heart. And Lady Ripton’s tall, beautiful son was gazing down at his little Spanish girl with a look in his eyes that brought fresh tears to his mother’s eyes.

  “She adores him,” Lady Gosforth commented.

  “And he adores her,” Lady Ripton sobbed. “The dear girl.”

  “You were going to tell me something,” Bella reminded Luke that night as they were preparing for bed. Her first ball had been magical. Luke’s friends and relations had welcomed her with open arms. The men had danced with her, their wives had befriended her, and Luke’s mother embraced Bella whenever she saw her. She still felt like dancing.

  “Will you look at that,” Luke exclaimed softly under his breath. He’d just removed his shirt and, as was his usual habit, had peered under the gauze bandage that covered his wound.

  “Show me.” Bella hurried over.

  Luke slowly lifted the bandage off. With it came the dried scab of the wound. Beneath lay new skin. Shiny pink skin, a little puckered. He was scarred, yes, but there was not a hint of a rose anywhere to be seen.

  “Oh Luke…”

  He picked her up and carried her to bed.

  Much later she stirred in his arms, stretching languorously. “You were going to tell me something.”

  “Hmm?”

  “In the carriage. You started but we were interrupted.” She was hungry for the words.

  He pulled her close to him and rolled over so she lay on top of him, naked, skin to skin. “You want all the gory details, do you?”

  “Yes.” She kissed his chest. “Every. Last. One.” She punctuated it with kisses.

  He thought for a moment. “I’m utterly and totally besotted with you.”

  She frowned. “Besotted? That means drunk.”

  “Drunk, intoxicated. In love with.”

  She kissed him again. “I prefer the last one.”

  “I love you Isabella Mercedes Sanchez y Vaillant Ripton, with all my heart and soul. You are the light of my life. Almost literally. You saved me, you know.”

  “What from?”

  “From the darkness within me.”

  “It was not your darkness, and anyway”—she kissed the fresh pink scar—“it’s all gone now.”

  He kissed her long and thoroughly and then said, “And?”

  “What do you mean, and?”

  “Haven’t you got something to say to me?”

  “But you know I love you. I told you ages ago.”

  “A bare ten days ago.”

  “Hah, so you do remember.”

  “I have a terrible memory.” He smiled. “Say it again.”

  He was as hungry as she was for the words, Bella saw. She kissed him, moving lower each time. “I. Love. You. Luke. Ripton.”

  “I like your punctuation. Do it again.”

  Epilogue

  “You don’t mind, do you my dear?”

  “Not at all,” Bella assured her mother-in-law. “I am very happy to marry Luke again. I made those first vows as a child and did not really understand what I was promising.” And Luke had made his assuming he could get them annulled. “To pledge myself to your son as an adult, in full knowledge of what these sacred promises mean, will make me very happy.”

  “And besides, you were married in a tiny village church with no family or friends whereas—” Lady Ripton broke off. “Oh my dear, I’m sorry. I did not think.”

  Bella smiled mistily. “It does not matter. I have been without family for a long time.”

  “You don’t mind about the church? St. George’s Hanover Square is the most fashionable church, and it’s where all my children were christened and confirmed. But it’s not Catholic.”

  Bella smiled. “I don’t mind. Papa was an atheist and, while Mama was quite religious, I was educated in a convent… the Inquisition—faith by fear?” She shook her head. “No, a church is a church. It makes no difference to me.”

  “Excellent. Now, put on your shawl. It’s still a little chilly outside.” She adjusted Bella’s shawl and inspected her. “There, so lovely you look. Such a shame your own mother could not—No.” She broke off, dabbing at her eyes. “We will not cry and come to your wedding with red eyes.”

  Bella touched her mother’s pearls. “I know. Mama has been very much on my mind. She was cynical about love, but at heart she was a romantic and she loved weddings. She would have loved to be here. She would have been happy for me.”

  “Of course she would, and I’m sure she’s with you in spirit—oh dear.” She dabbed again at her eyes. “Now come along, we don’t want to be late. Who’s giving you away?”

  “I don’t know. Luke said he’d arranged it, but he didn’t tell me who.”

  “It will be one of the boys,” Luke’s mother said. “Gabe or Rafe or Harry. Such excellent friends. Ready?”

  Bella made one last inspection of herself in the looking glass and nodded. She walked down the stairs arm-in-arm with her mother-in-law. “Good heavens,” Lady Ripton exclaimed. “Visitors? At this hour and on such a day? Who can have admitted them? We
must send them away.”

  In the hallway Molly stood talking to an elderly couple, a tall, distinguished-looking man with silver hair and a neat white beard, and an elegantly dressed little white-haired lady. She looked up as Bella descended and clutched the man’s arm.

  Bella’s footsteps faltered. That little lady… it couldn’t be… Mama with white hair?

  She stopped on the last step, breathless.

  “I see you’re wearing your mother’s pearls,” the man said in a deep, husky voice.

  She knew that voice. “Grandpapa?”

  “You look beautiful, Isabella,” Bella’s grandmother said. “The image of your dear, dear mother.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

  “I thought you were dead,” Bella whispered, embracing them.

  “Oh, my darling girl.” Her grandmother hugged her tightly.

  “We thought the same of you,” her grandfather said gruffly.

  “But how… how did you know? And find me on this day of all days?” Bella asked when they’d recovered enough to speak.

  “Lord Ripton tracked us down,” Bella’s grandfather told her. “Said he thought I might like to give the bride away.”

  “Oh yes, please.” Bella wept and hugged them both again.

  It was a beautiful wedding, Bella was sure. Much more beautiful than the first time she’d married Luke Ripton. There were flowers and elegant clothes and fashionable guests and music.

  But she didn’t remember this one any better. She was too full of happiness to notice anything. Anything except the blaze of love in her husband’s eyes as she walked down the aisle toward him.

  “Love isn’t pain, Mama,” she whispered. “It’s joy.”