“Then I’ll look in on Jupiter with you tomorrow. Ask the groom to escort you to the nursery. You’ll never find the way alone.”
“I will, Alicia.” Kimbra leaned over and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I’m so glad you are my sister.”
Alicia felt a warm tug on her heart. “Thank you, darling. I’m glad you’re my sister, too.” She smiled as Kimbra rushed from the room, one moment a young lady, the next an energetic child.
After the door closed, Alicia drew back against the cushions and stared into the white coals still glowing in the hearth. The only sounds were the raindrops sliding against the windowpane and the clock ticking on the mantel. So quiet. So peaceful.
“I’m sorry to break into your solitude, my lady, but—”
Alicia jumped to her feet, her heart racing. She wheeled around to see Justin Sykes rising from the leather couch at the far window.
“Good lord, how long have you been hiding there?”
He raised his hands in the air, and Alicia was reminded of that night, three years ago, when she had stumbled upon him in bed. She felt like running from the room, but she held her ground. “I asked you a question.”
“I was taking a nap, and I heard you and your sister….” His dark eyes glinted with humor. “When I realized what was happening, I thought it might be best if I remained out of sight.”
“And why didn’t you remain that way?” She fought to control her tongue.
“Because…” Behind his dark, shuttered gaze, she sensed he felt contrite.
“Well?” she asked.
“I’ve been here for some time, dear lady, and I…well…”
Alicia finally realized the delicacy of the situation. She drew back to let him pass. “You may leave.”
Justin took several steps, then turned to her. “If I may have a few words with you, Lady Alicia. I will be leaving in the morning—”
“You’re not staying for the wedding?” In her surprise, she forgot her anger.
“I wouldn’t miss the honor of standing beside Dalton. I’ll be leaving following the ceremony. I won’t be at the wedding breakfast, so I may not have another chance to speak to you.”
“I see. Where are you going?”
“I’ve made plans, and I’m afraid they cannot wait.”
“Dalton will be very disappointed that you can’t remain to celebrate. Are you certain one day will make such a difference?”
His long black lashes shaded his eyes. “For me, yes. But before I go, I couldn’t leave without remarking about something you said to your sister.”
“So you were eavesdropping.”
“My reputation is most sullied, as you well know, my lady. Eavesdropping is a virtue compared to the other sins that have been charged against my soul.”
She raised a brow. “How quaintly put.” She couldn’t hide a smile as she took a seat across from him. “So what is your comment, Mr. Sykes?”
His face broke into a charming smile, and she could well imagine what devilment Dalton and this handsome rake must have thrust upon London Society.
“I’ve learned a great deal in these last few days with Dalton. Mostly I’ve learned something about myself. And I owe you for my belated education.”
She raised a brow. “Me?”
He smiled as though he enjoyed her confusion. “I’m probably one of Dalton’s oldest friends,” he said, leaning against the back of the settee. “We met in Cambridge and we’ve been friends ever since. But you’re right about Dalton. He does keep himself closeted away beneath that arrogant facade. Yet in a few weeks, you saw right through him, didn’t you?”
She didn’t feel comfortable discussing her feelings about Dalton with this stranger. “How do you see him, Mr. Sykes?”
“Dalton is the best at everything he does. He’s stubborn, yet he’ll admit when he’s wrong, but you better be ready to prove that he’s wrong.” He laughed, the room filling with his rich, throaty baritone. “In a fight, he’s the friend every man wants at his back. He’s loyal and he uses truth as a sword.” His lips lifted into an irresistible smile that flashed white teeth. “A man’s man, one whom I’m honored to call my friend.”
“Your praise is more appropriate for a eulogy.” She smiled at his huff of laugher. “Or maybe to a man such as yourself, marriage is the same as death?”
His dark eyes glittered dangerously. “At one time I may have thought so, but not anymore.”
She wasn’t certain if he was serious or teasing. He was a rake, albeit a charming one. “I can see why Dalton considers you a friend.”
“Why, thank you, my lady.” He gave her a short bow.
“Does Dalton know you’re leaving immediately after the wedding?” she asked, surprised that she felt reluctant to see him leave. There was a refreshing honesty about the rogue and she would really like the opportunity to know him better.
“No,” Justin said. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
On impulse, Alicia said, “Why not reconsider, Mr. Sykes? I’m certain Dalton would be terribly disappointed if you left so soon.” His dark winged eyebrows rose in surprise, and she felt equally surprised by her change of mind. “Is it possible to alter your plans and remain with us for a few more days?”
His dark-brown eyes brightened. She recognized within their startling depths the look of sincere pleasure. “I’m truly honored by your invitation, Lady Alicia.” His voice was deep and low. “And I accept your kind and generous offer.”
She felt a thrill of satisfaction. “Dalton will be so pleased.” He took several steps toward her, and she held out her hand for him to kiss. He stepped back. “Forgive my impudent manners, Lady Alicia, but I promised your future husband that I would not so much as lay a finger on your person, your sisters, mother or any of the female servants employed under his roof.”
She laughed. “Dalton made you promise such a thing?”
He nodded, tugging on his snowy neckcloth. “Yes, and I’m beginning to notice the strain.” His mouth twitched with amusement. “Besides, since my stay here, I’ve been surrounded by such wholesomeness that I’ve taken it upon myself to try refraining from drinking and smoking. If I keep this up, I expect my tarnished reputation will wither on the vine. Drat, I might even become respectable. Can’t have that, eh?”
She couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Very well, Mr. Sykes. I promise not to tell anyone about your newfound honor.”
He hesitated, and a strange look of longing deepened in his eyes as his expression became serious. “I once asked you to marry me, do you remember, my lady?”
Her cheeks warmed at the memory; she nodded.
If he was going to say more, he decided against it. Instead, he flashed her another dazzling smile. “Dalton is a very lucky man.” He turned on his heel and strode to the door.
“Mr. Sykes?”
Justin glanced over his shoulder as he stood with his hand on the doorknob.
Alicia hurried to him and stood on tiptoe. “I don’t think I told you how very glad I am that Dalton has you for a friend.” She brushed her lips against his cheek.
A glint brightened in his warm, dark eyes. “Aye, Dalton is a very lucky man.”
She watched him open the door and listened to his footfalls fade down the corridor. Only when the hall was silent did she remember that he hadn’t told her what he had learned about himself.
The morning of the wedding, rain poured down in torrents as Alicia stepped into the ducal carriage that would take her to the church. Covered with sagging white ribbons and bows and water-beaten garden bouquets, the vehicle had all the gaiety of an overripe melon. She stifled a nervous giggle as she leaned against the velvet squabs, a cold wave of nervousness trickling down her spine.
Across from her sat her parents, as was the custom. Alicia felt guilty that she would have preferred Olivia, who had gone ahead with Marie and Hortense. Her father sat morosely silent while her mother, her eyes red from weeping, smiled bravely.
The carriage shifted dange
rously to the side as the wheels wobbled against the muddy ruts. Alicia jolted upright, wondering if the other carriages had arrived safely. The last vehicle in the wedding party was always the bridal carriage, yet she would have felt more relieved to know that Dalton was already waiting for her at the church.
She hadn’t seen Dalton since dinner, which had been cut short because her mother had remained in her room. To make matters worse, her father had been in one of his surly moods, refusing to speak to anyone.
Early this morning, she had been awake and served breakfast in her room. She couldn’t eat a bite. After the maids had helped her dress, her mother dissolved in tears, flanked by a somber Lyssa on one side and a worried Kimbra on the other. Dear God, I pray the wedding won’t be a complete disaster.
Alicia squeezed the bouquet of white-and-pink rosebuds in her hand, her fingers numb with cold. Thank goodness the ancient family church beside the family mausoleum was only a few miles from the manor. The roads were a mud bath, making travel nearly impossible.
Finally the carriage lurched to a stop. The footmen, dressed in their new purple-and-gold livery for the special occasion, jumped down to assist them to the church. Through the wind and rain, Alicia noticed the line of carriages that had already arrived, and she felt relieved. Maybe everything would go smoothly.
A footman held up a cover for her and her mother to shield them from the weather. She tried to open her parasol, but a wind gust blew it inside out. Blinded by the rain and the sheet the groom held in front of her, she stepped into a puddle. Lord, help me get through this day.
For what seemed like an eternity, Alicia waited in the antechamber for some sign that the ceremony would begin. Marie and Hortense had patted dry everyone’s hair and gowns, and resurrected what was left of the floral bouquets.
Olivia smiled lovingly at her. “See, I was right. Everything is going to be perfect.”
Alicia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Yes, you did,” she said instead, trying to suppress a giggle. She felt light-headed and giddy, but relieved that Olivia was by her side.
“Thank you, again, for acting as my bridesmaid. I know it’s unusual, but it means a great deal to me.”
“My pleasure, Alicia. I would have insisted, even if you were having a large London wedding.”
She smiled, relieved that Dalton had agreed to her wish for a small ceremony. She would never have been able to bear the mockery of the ton watching them through their quizzing glasses.
The first chords of the organ roared. Alicia jumped from her seat. A shiver of foreboding went through her. Olivia stood, her face pale, but smiling. “I’m carrying a hartshorn, in case you may need it.”
Alicia glanced up with surprise. In spite of Olivia’s insistence that everything would be perfect, she had decided to carry smelling salts, just in case.
“It’s time, my dear,” Olivia said finally.
Alicia straightened her shoulders and clamped her fingers around the fragrant rosebuds she held. “I’m ready.”
Olivia clutched her pink-and-yellow-and-white rose bouquet and stepped to the door. The pages creaked open the heavy oak doors for them. Alicia fell in step, her heart hammering. There was no backing out now.
Dalton stood at the altar with Justin, his groomsman, and waited for his bride to walk through the fortified doors that had withstood the battlements from medieval wars down to the last skirmish when his ancestors had defended their king. For over six hundred years, Dalton’s history had been played out within the ancient stone walls of this church—weddings, baptisms and funerals. Now, he was the next in line to lay down his seed for the new generation. He and his bride.
Dalton knew she would be beautiful, but he wasn’t prepared for the delicate innocence and disarming vulnerability that shone from Alicia’s face as she walked down the aisle with her father.
When she took her place at his side and smiled up at him, Dalton thought his heart would break with happiness. Dear God, what manner of woman was this who could melt him so?
The minister’s voice broke through his thoughts, but Dalton couldn’t drag his gaze from her. In her white, delicate gown, she looked all skirts and shoulders. The single row of pearls at her throat was shamed in contrast to the illuminated beauty of her skin.
A bridal veil drifted delicately over the crown of roses atop her head to trail loosely across her bare arms, then fall gracefully to the floor.
What powerful feeling captivated him? How tempting to drink in the sight of such innocence and truly believe in what poets sang about—love. Maybe for these next few days he’d throw reason to the wind and make believe. For who could blame a fool in love?
Alicia said her vows slowly, her strong, clear voice echoing inside the Gothic arches that spiraled toward heaven.
Dalton repeated his vows in deep, low tones and in what seemed the shortest of time, the minister finally announced they were husband and wife. Dalton slid the gold ring on her finger, his touch warm and solid. She and Dalton joined hands and turned to face the small congregation of smiling faces.
For the first time, Alicia noticed the stoic face of the dowager duchess, sitting beside Dalton’s great-aunt Mary at the other side of the first row. Alicia blinked, not believing her eyes. She slid a sidelong glance at Dalton, who was watching her with obvious pleasure.
Her heart leaped with joy and gratitude. Regardless of her reason, Dalton’s mother had come to her son’s wedding.
Dalton squeezed her hand, and she smiled back at her new husband. Devastatingly handsome in his dark-blue frock coat and white waistcoat, he also looked powerful. Never had she seen him without authority and control, and it was here, today, as he held her hand in marriage.
The small wedding party milled at the door as Dalton led Alicia down the aisle. Justin winked at her, and she winked back. He had performed his duties earlier by providing a generous sum to the minister for the poor, and paying a large fee to all the attendants.
When the grooms opened the heavy church doors, a gloriously sunny morning awaited them as they stepped from the church. Alicia felt another surge of happiness when she gazed up into the azure sky. She turned to Dalton. “There’s an old French saying: if the sun shines on your wedding day, you’ll be very happy.”
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the ducal carriage. “Happy is the only way I’d want you to be, my bride.”
Lyssa carried a basket in her arms as she laughed and skipped ahead of them, swirling the few rose petals that had been salvaged from the rain. A pair of magpies chided them from a nearby branch. “What a beautiful day,” she said, meaning every word.
When they reached the carriage, several footmen opened the door. “I find I don’t want to let you go,” Dalton whispered in her ear.
She blushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “You must. Otherwise how will we fit inside the coach?” She was rewarded by his chuckle as he helped her up the tiny steps of the carriage.
When he had settled beside her, the vehicle lurched forward, the jingle of harness and the clamor of hooves hammering the muddy ground. She could feel his gaze on her, but she pretended not to notice as she felt along the floor of the carriage.
“What are you doing?” Dalton said, a look of amusement hovering on his lips.
“I’m looking for the bag of coins we are to throw when we come to the village,” she said.
“Your father has probably already beaten you to it.” He chuckled, then drew her close to him. She shivered in response and her reaction wasn’t lost to him.
“You have nothing to fear, Alicia. I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want me to do.”
She wished she could hide her nervousness, but she knew she could hide very little from this man. Instead she straightened the folds of her gown. “What should we do if we have no coins for the villagers? They will expect it.”
He leaned back, a trace of a smile on his face. “The footman hid the box of coins beneath the driver’s seat. They’ll slo
w down when we approach the outskirts of the village.” He looked at her as though she were an overly excited child enjoying a birthday.
“What shall we do when we return to the manor?” she asked.
“Partake of the feasting, at least until the evening draws near.”
She heard his soft chuckle, and her cheeks flamed with the thought of their wedding night. She averted her gaze to look out the window. But when she felt his finger trace a line across her cheek, she turned back and their eyes met.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Alicia.” But the smouldering look he gave her only fueled her thoughts of their wedding night.
Chapter Thirteen
The leather-faced shepherd raised his tankard in toast to the duke and duchess of Wexton. “May the good Lord shine on ye and yer bride, yer grace.” A resounding cheer rose from the country folk feasting at the rows of white-linen-covered tables groaning with platters of mutton, ham, roast beef and game pies. Garlands of lilies and roses hung from the fluttering silk tents, the makeshift coverings Olivia had ordered in case of rain. Barefoot children and barking dogs scampered along the grass, cries of laughter and singing filled the sun-kissed afternoon.
The dowager duchess, leaning heavily on her cane, had complained that the rain had brought on her rheumatism, and had departed for London before the outdoor festivities had begun. Alicia wondered what the real reason was behind the dowager’s appearance today. Perhaps the proud woman didn’t want to snub her son’s wedding, thus upsetting Aunt Mary. But Alicia preferred to think that Dalton’s mother, although she would rather die than admit it, wanted to be present for such an important occasion in her son’s life. She hoped so, for Dalton’s sake.
She glanced at her handsome husband, sitting with her at the head of the table. Dalton nodded in appreciation as the eldest villager at the far table stood to toast them, then the ritual repeated itself at the next table.
Earlier, Dalton hadn’t been able to take his eyes off his bride as she met each villager, complimenting the farmers on their strong sons, their wives on their neat, flowered cottages and their children on their handsome, well-behaved pets. She had captured them instantly with her generosity and grace. Although the short ride through the village was customary, she had been entranced with the throngs of curious villagers, and asked if they might stroll among them instead of riding in the open carriage back to the manor.
Taming the Duke Page 16
