by Mary Nichols
‘Naturally, I am. I am proud of her. I want everyone to know.’ He knew better than to rouse her ire by suggesting anything different. And besides he wanted to prove that he had meant what he said; he loved her whatever and whoever she was.
‘But Madeleine Charron does not exist as a person, Duncan,’ she said, watching his face carefully. ‘The lady you are marrying is Miss Madeleine Cartwright, granddaughter of the late Viscount Armitage.’ She paused and laughed. ‘And, since I have just heard that he left me a small legacy after all, a lady of consequence.’
He took her shoulders in his hands and looked down into her upturned face. Her eyes were shining with love and he knew she was doing this thing to please him as he was intending to please her, and he smiled. ‘Whatever you say, my dear lady. Whatever you call yourself, you will always be a lady of consequence to me.’
They did not notice Lavinia stand up and cross the room, did not even here the soft click of the door as she left them. He was too busy kissing her.
Six months’ mourning was considered long enough for a grandfather she had only just met and they were married the following spring. They had meant it to be a quiet wedding, but Lavinia persuaded them that a hole-and-corner affair would only feed the gossips and they would do well to do the thing properly. And they could not marry without inviting some of their friends, and if some, then why not all? And so it became a grand Society affair.
Madeleine was dressed in a gown of heavy cream taffeta with dropped shoulders whose neckline was edged with ruched silk. The same ruched silk decorated the hem of her underskirt which peeped beneath the loops of taffeta of the top skirt. Her lovely hair was brought up into an Apollo knot over which was fastened a long Honiton lace veil, decorated with trailing silk ribbons. Duncan, handsome himself in a dove-grey superfine frockcoat and matching trousers, strapped beneath his patent leather shoes, thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful and her expressive violet eyes, looking into his as she joined him at the altar, told him clearly that she loved him. She had no eyes for the ranks of guests in the pews behind them as she was joined in matrimony to the tall handsome man at her side.
She did not think about them until the service was over and she walked slowly back down the aisle on her husband’s arm and one by one the men bowed and the ladies dropped a knee in a curtsy. She was a Marchioness and they were acknowledging that. It was all she could do not to giggle. And among them were the cousins who had so disdained her and Benedict and Annabel with Lord and Lady Bulford, whom Madeleine had insisted should be included. She inclined her head graciously at their obeisance and moved on.
Duncan, smiling beside her, bent his head to whisper, ‘Vengeance is sweet, is it not, my darling?’
None of them understood why she suddenly laughed up at him, but there wasn’t a man among them who did not envy the handsome bridegroom who had everything, nor a woman who did not sigh with jealousy of his beautiful bride.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3164-1
A LADY OF CONSEQUENCE
Copyright © 2003 by Mary Nichols
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