“Oh, you are incorrigible since you fell in love!” Grace punched her fists to her hips, finally meeting Hannah’s gaze.
“Will you tell me what’s really going on?”
“I can’t, but I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you,” she teased.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, just go with the girl!” the dowager called from across the room. Hannah had forgotten her mother was even there.
“Thank you,” Grace called over her shoulder.
“Fine.” Hannah stood, smiling amusedly. She would have gone anyway, since her curiosity was indubitably peaked now. “May I retrieve my pelisse?”
“Already done. Baldrick is waiting for you in the foyer.”
“Well, then, I can’t wait to see this hat.”
She followed Grace out the door and into the carriage. Her sister-in-law insisted on closing the curtains so Hannah couldn’t see where they were going and ruin the surprise. Hannah quipped that she’d been to the hatmaker’s before, but Grace didn’t find it quite as amusing as she did.
Finally, the carriage pulled to a stop, at which point Grace asked Hannah to turn around.
“Turn around?”
“I have to blindfold you.”
“Blindfold me?”
“Will you please stop being so difficult?”
Hannah laughed, but turned around anyway, allowing Grace to put a blindfold over her eyes and then lead her from the carriage. Hannah tried to take in the sounds and smells around her—they certainly weren’t in Mayfair anymore, but it really could have been anywhere in London.
“Three steps up,” Grace said. “One, two, three. There. Now right this way.”
They were inside now. Inside of what, she didn’t know. And then, all at once, light flooded her eyes as a chorus of Surprise! rang in her ears.
Hannah blinked, trying to take in the scene before her. Good heavens. They were all here. Here in Veronica’s little parlor. All the women she’d met with. All the women that had had the unfortunate experience of sleeping with her former husband, gathered in one place, smiling at her, some with tears in their eyes. It was so overwhelming that Hannah struggled to take in air.
“What—what is this?” she breathed.
Grace took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “This,” her sister-in-law said, “is for you.”
“But I don’t understand.” And truly, she didn’t.
Veronica stepped forward, her startling blue eyes filled with light and hopefulness. “You have been through so much—endured far too many years with that vile man—and yet you have shown nothing but kindness to all of us.” She gestured to the women at large. “We wanted to find a way to honor you, to turn your struggle into a way to help other women who may seek asylum from a man who might harm her. Or for women who want a different life from the one they may have fallen into. Like many of us here.” She stepped aside to allow two of the women to come forward. They held a sign between them that read Hannah’s Home.
Hannah couldn’t breathe. The lump in her throat was nearly choking her.
“Evan and I have purchased a large townhome not far from here,” Grace added. “Large enough to house at least twenty women at a time. And your own Dr. Alcott has agreed to make certain all the women are well cared for and healthy.”
Hannah cast her gaze to Grace. “Graham?”
Grace nodded.
“But…” She had so many questions, she didn’t even know where to begin. So she said simply, “I am overwhelmed. And honored.”
“Come.” Grace took her by the hand and began to lead her out of the room and toward the back of the house. “We’ve planned a little something for you.”
Hannah couldn’t imagine what was happening, but when Grace opened the door to the garden, she saw that it had been transformed. Where it used to be a dismal place overrun with weeds, there were flowers and healthy plants everywhere, benches and tables, upon which were plates of cakes and biscuits and sandwiches…a garden party in a lovely little enchanted garden.
“It’s magnificent,” Hannah breathed. “But you didn’t have to do all this for me.”
“They wanted to,” Grace replied. “After Beeston ruined your plans for him, well, they didn’t want to leave it at that. They wanted you to know that they were willing to stand by you, no matter what.”
“I don’t deserve all this.”
“No,” Grace said. “You deserve far more. But this will have to do.”
Chapter 32
As far as wedding days went, Graham imagined there had never been a more perfect one in all of history. Snow was gently falling outside the stained glass windows of St. George’s, and the whole town smelled of cinnamon and clove. The church was decorated in garlands of holly, heralding the joyous holiday. Christmas Eve would never be the same—it would forever be the happiest day of his life.
Graham stood at the front of the church, Somerset and Dr. Pritchard on one side of him, the minister on the other, while Her Grace, the Duchess of Somerset, made her way down the aisle clad in dark green satin with a small bouquet of white roses in her hands.
The music changed once the duchess reached the pulpit, and the congregation stood as Hannah, his beautiful bride, appeared at the back of the nave.
Graham could hardly catch his breath. She was a vision in cream and silver, like a shimmering angel, walking toward him so slowly, Graham worried she would never get there. She had a smile for him, and for everyone she passed. The entire Wetherby family had turned out for the occasion, considering themselves extended family now. All the women from Hannah’s Home were in attendance as well—a situation that would surely be mentioned in the gossip columns tomorrow. There was Daphne and Wolf, Garrick and Tilly. And, of course, the dowager, who stood in the front row, beaming as her daughter walked toward her down the aisle.
Graham had always thought it was impossible to change people—to truly amend their nature—but the dowager had proved him wrong. While she was still a blunt and entitled old woman, she was somehow softer now. Kinder. Most certainly not the woman he had met many months ago when he’d first arrived at Somerset House.
When Hannah arrived at the pulpit, her gaze met with his, loving and longing, and oh, so happy. The smile on her face matched his, and they joined hands, ready to finally become man and wife.
Epilogues
Michael & Elizabeth
“You’re shaking like a leaf.”
Elizabeth Wetherby looked up at her husband, Michael, and forced a smile. “I know,” she said, and then turned her attention back to the passing scenery.
“Are you cold?”
She smiled and shook her head, remembering a similar conversation from more than four years ago when they’d been traveling to Scotland. Now they were traveling home, to England, for the first time in a very long time. In some ways it felt like forever, and in others it felt as if they’d never left. But they had left, thanks to the scandal Michael and his twin, Andrew, had caused. Lizzie was never supposed to marry Michael—it was supposed to be Andrew. But seeing as he’d fallen in love with her cousin…
Oh, it was no use going over all of it in her head again. She’d done so a thousand times, and it didn’t change the outcome. Not that she wanted it to. She loved Michael. She just hoped the ton had forgotten how they’d come to be man and wife.
“You know I’m not cold,” Lizzie finally replied.
His warm hand wrapped around her gloved fingers. “You don’t have to be nervous, my love.”
“Simple for you to say,” she retorted. “You’ve seen your family some in the last few years. I’ve barely seen mine at all.” A fresh batch of butterflies started beating about in her stomach. “Oh, heavens, do I look all right?”
Michael reached up and stilled the hand that had begun to fuss with her hair. “You look stunning…as always.”
“Please don’t patronize me now. I’m in no mood for your cajoling.” A wide grin broke out on Michael’s lips, and Elizabeth fought
the urge to laugh herself. “Stop that!”
“You want me to stop smiling at you?”
“Yes!”
Michael shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” He continued to gaze at her with that adorable, boyish grin. It encompassed love and mischief all at the same time, and it completely unarmed Elizabeth.
She turned her head sharply away and focused once again on the familiar landscape outside. “Then I shan’t be able to look at you.” They were getting closer to London—it wouldn’t be much longer before they were ensconced in her family’s townhouse, making merry with her brothers and sisters and— “I know you’re still looking at me!” she exclaimed without turning back to Michael.
Her husband burst into laughter and then drew her backwards into his arms. She leaned against him, unable to resist his charms anymore.
“This poor child won’t be able to get anything past you, will she?” He placed a hand to her stomach and then abruptly pulled it away. “Good God, what was that? Are you all right?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Of course I’m all right, you ninny. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He tentatively put his hand back to her belly. “You mean it’s supposed to do that?”
“Yes, it is supposed to do that,” she said. “It is a human, after all. And last I checked, humans tended to move about, even when confined to small spaces, like this blasted carriage.”
“Can you make it happen again?”
“Can you make the sun shine more brightly?”
“Touché.”
Silence fell over them as the carriage crossed the Thames, headed for the city. Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking comfort in the gentle way Michael caressed her stomach.
“Do you think anyone remembers?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“The question is not will they remember. The question is will they care? And the answer is most assuredly no.”
“How can you be so sure?” Michael was always so sure of everything; it made Elizabeth feel most inadequate in the area of certainty.
“It’s been four years, Beth.” He turned her slightly and tipped her chin up. After all this time, she still couldn’t help but get lost in those deep, brown eyes. “The only thing anyone cares about is having you back home.”
Elizabeth wanted to cry at his tenderness. Well, truth be known, she wanted to cry at everything these days. It was deuced annoying that. How in the world did her sisters-in-law carry so many children and not dry themselves up completely?
“Thank you,” she said to Michael, blinking back her tears. “That does make me feel better.”
“Good, because we’re here.”
Michael knew his wife was a bundle of nerves about returning to London for the holiday, so he decided not to mention to her how nervous he was. She would only wonder at his nervousness and find more reasons to be nervous herself. That was something neither of them needed, especially considering her delicate emotional state of late. He would be thrilled once the baby finally arrived…although Beth had done a nice job of watering the household plants over the last few months.
As the carriage blessedly pulled to a stop in front of his brother’s townhouse, he turned to face his wife. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Beth smiled. “I’m not sure it would matter if I wasn’t. It’s not like we could turn back now.” She gave a little nod toward the window and Michael turned to see his sister-in-law barreling down the sidewalk toward them.
Phoebe Wetherby, Marchioness of Eastleigh, looked every bit the marchioness in her midnight blue gown, with her auburn hair styled to perfection. A small boy followed in her wake. His thick, dark hair and large brown eyes made it obvious he was the progeny of Phoebe and his brother, Benjamin.
“I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed as Michael helped Beth down from the carriage. “You didn’t say anything about being enceinte!”
A wide smile broke out on Elizabeth’s lips as Phoebe gathered her in a hug. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” she said. “And I knew if I told you or Katherine that the entire town would know before we ever arrived.”
“I will breech no argument to that,” Phoebe replied, laughing. “Come, come. You’ll catch your deaths out here.”
She led them up the walk after a few brief instructions for the horses to be taken to the mews and the trunks to be delivered to the green guest chambers. The butler awaited them in the entrance and wasted no time in divesting them of their outer clothes.
“Come,” Phoebe said, taking Elizabeth by the arm. “I’ve had the fire stoked and food set out for you in the drawing room.”
Michael followed behind, grateful for his sister-in-law’s gracious hospitality. He loved their home in Scotland—it was where they would raise their family and grow old together. But being in London again felt good, and he would rest easier knowing their child would be born here, rather than in their remote little village in the highlands.
“Well, well, the prodigal son returns.”
Michael spun on his heel just before he reached the drawing room to find his brother at the other end of the corridor, handing off his coat to a footman. He was as imposing as ever with his broad shoulders and tall stature. His dark Wetherby hair was starting to sprout a bit of silver, making him seem even more distinguished than before.
“What ho, old man!” Michael shouted as they made their way toward one another. They embraced and then Benjamin took him by the shoulders and pushed him back so he could look at him.
“We thought you’d never come home,” Ben said, a great deal of warmth to his tone. “It is good to see you, brother.”
“We couldn’t stay away forever, could we? Besides, we have more than one good reason to be here now.”
Ben’s brows knit together in confusion. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
Michael smiled as they turned to head toward the drawing room. “You will soon enough.”
As if Phoebe were a magpie with a homing instinct, she emerged into the corridor at that exact moment. “Benjamin, you’re home!” She placed a hurried kiss to his cheek and then burst out, “You won’t believe it—Lizzie is enceinte!”
Ben turned on Michael with a wide smile. “I knew you could do it, little brother!” he said, clapping him on the back. “Let me congratulate your wife and then we’ll retire to my study for port and cigars. This calls for a celebration.”
Chloe & Andrew
“Good heavens, what chaos!” Chloe Wetherby stood in the doorway to her children’s nursery, dumbfounded by the mess they’d made. And by the fact that her sister, Cassandra, had allowed them to make such a mess. “Cassie, I thought you were watching them.”
Her little sister’s curls bounced frantically as she bounded across the room. “Oh, I have been, Clo! We’ve been having a grand time defeating Napolean’s army, haven’t we?”
Two chubby faces peered up at them with wide smiles. Four-year-old Samantha wore a hat made of paper upon her head and a mustache made of—
“Is that chocolate on your lip?” Chloe asked, trying not to laugh.
“Mm-hm, and it is delicious!”
Benedict, who was not even a year yet, sat giggling amidst a sea of pillows.
“Well, we’re going to be late for dinner if we don’t hurry. What a blessedly inconvenient time for Martha to take sick to her bed.” She picked up Benedict and stood by the door. “Cassie, please dress Sam for dinner and wash the chocolate off her face. I will send Deborah to help you dress when she’s done helping me. Good heavens, how did Mother handle six children with no help whatsoever?”
“Mother never had to dress us for fancy dinners,” Cassie rejoined as she led Sam through the door into the corridor.
“Well, that’s true, isn’t it?”
Her sister and daughter skipped toward the staircase. With Benedict on her hip, Chloe followed them to the children’s bedchambers. As she began to dress her sweet little boy, she realized her hands were shaking. So much so that
she could hardly loop the buttons through the holes on his shirt.
She took a deep breath. Her nerves were on edge. She hadn’t seen her cousin in so very long. What would it be like? Had she changed very much? By her letters it would seem Lizzie—or Beth, as Michael had taken to calling her—had grown up quite a bit, no longer consumed with frivolities and gossip. But would seeing Chloe remind her of what had happened? Of her horrific betrayal?
Chloe hated that she’d done it, but in the end, she couldn’t feel badly about it. She’d fallen in love with Andrew, and according to Shakespeare, one could not help such a thing. Besides, she and Andrew had two beautiful children together, so any regrets she might have had before were now gone altogether.
Well, all but one. She did regret the rift that had formed between Lizzie and herself.
“There we are!” she said, smiling down at her son’s angelic face. “As handsome as ever.”
“I’m ready too, Mama!”
Chloe swung around to see Samantha fully dressed in a white dress with lace trim, a thick satin sash about the waist, her hair partially up with a mass of dark curls cascading over her shoulders. Chloe beamed at her daughter.
“You look lovely, my dear. Now, Cassie, go and get ready quickly, then hurry back so you can look after the children while I finish getting ready myself.”
“Why don’t I look after the children?”
Chloe looked up to find her husband in the doorway—her knight on a white charger. “When did you get home?” she wondered as he crossed the room towards her.
He leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek before ruffling Benedict’s hair. “Just now. But I’m desperate for a spot of tea.”
A little gasp came from the other side of the room. “Papa! I can serve you tea!” Samantha cried, her eyes alight with excitement.
“Perfect!” Andrew relieved Chloe of their son, and then took Samantha’s hand to lead them back to the nursery for a tea party.
How to Care for a Lady Page 17
