“Then you’ve not a moment to waste, my lady,” Mrs. Gates replied with an gasp. “I’ll see to it there is a carriage ready to take you to Plaistow at ten,” she claimed as she once again moved to leave. Before she was out, though, she stopped and regarded Charlotte with her head cocked to the side. “I have been waiting for this day for eighteen years,” she said as tears threatened to flow.
Charlotte gave the housekeeper a watery smile. “So have I,” she replied. So have I! The sentiment reminded her that she hadn’t heard back from her mother – she didn’t know if the woman would make the trip from London to be present for her wedding. And she found herself wondering how her father was faring. Under the circumstances, perhaps leaving London had been a selfish move on her part. But her mother had insisted, afraid if Edward Bingham died while in hospital, Charlotte would have to delay a wedding for at least six months to honor the mourning period. And by then, given what her cousin had done to her dowry and the arrangements made with Henry Forster, she would find herself the Countess of Gisborn and in a marriage of convenience rather than about to marry the man she loved. And he loves me, she remembered, a frisson passing through her entire being as memories of his lovemaking returned unbidden.
The next two hours were a whirlwind of activity as she bathed, put on all her under things (except a corset, having discovered the night before that she would no doubt faint, if not from lack of air, then from the events about to take place), and Parma dressed her hair. Gold lamé ribbons were threaded through the curls piled atop her head while someone rolled up translucent stocking on her legs. When she pulled on the gown, she felt positively royal. The bodice was a bit tight, but Parma assured her that displaying her ‘rising moons’ for her new husband would be proper.
Charlotte rather doubted that ‘proper’ was quite the right word when she glanced in the cheval mirror. The gown was beautiful, though, reflecting its golden light as she turned to take in the fit and length. Deciding the skirt was a bit long, she found some gold dance slippers with heels to boost her up. There were blue earbobs and long white gloves and a rakish bonnet that Parma was able to retrofit with gold ribbon. By ten, when Charlotte Bingham was about to climb into a barouche driven by the village blacksmith, she felt ready to be married.
The sight of the Earl of Torrington’s carriage pulling into the drive was as unexpected as it was a delight. “I believe that must be my godfather come to bid me happy,” Charlotte said to Parma as she indicated to the blacksmith that he would need to hold up for a moment. And, when the earl’s carriage door opened, Grandby did indeed step down. He turned, though, and handed down Lady Bingham before he and her mother made their way to her barouche.
“Mother!” she called in surprise, stepping away from the carriage.
“Charlotte!” Lady Bingham replied happily as she came to the side of the barouche and hugged Charlotte. “You look …” There were tears in the older woman’s eyes as she gazed at Charlotte. “Like a beautiful bride,” she finally said, sniffling. Grandby was suddenly alongside Lady Bingham, offering a handkerchief before he took Charlotte’s hand and kissed the back of it.
“Grandby!” Charlotte breathed in delight. “Did you come for the wedding?” she wondered, hoping they had not arrived to bring bad news about her father.
“Aye,” he responded, as if he was surprised she would ask. “Someone has to give you away,” the earl said with a cocked eyebrow. “And to congratulate London’s newest matchmaker.” He was dressed in his usual impeccable manner, his cravat so perfectly folded and knotted that Charlotte had to wonder if his valet was with him and had just dressed him a few minutes ago. “Your father sends his love and his blessings, for his doctor refused to allow him the trip today.”
Charlotte stilled herself at Grandby’s words, a bit amazed at their meaning and finding herself profoundly … relieved. “I am not doing … wrong by him, then?” she replied quietly, her eyes darting to her mother to see if Grandby was telling the truth.
“You’re doing the right thing, my darling,” her mother replied, her eyes bright with tears. “And your father is so very sorry for what he did. He assures me he will be begging for your forgiveness for the rest of his life.”
Inhaling a long, slow breath, Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment. So, all would be well with her father.
Did that mean he would not resent her now that the family land in Oxfordshire was the property of the Earl of Gisborn? If so, then relief, indeed! “My wedding is in an hour. Will you ride with me to the chapel?” she asked, at the same time noticing a fashionably dressed woman standing several feet away from the earl’s carriage, a footman having handed her down the moment before. “Lady Worthington!” she called out, her face brightening even more. “Will you ride with me, as well?” she wondered as Grandby’s paramour joined them.
The widow moved to take her place next to Grandby. “I will, Lady Charlotte,” she replied happily as she placed a hand into the earl’s and stepped up and into the barouche. “And I came to tell you that I forgive you for missing my musicale last week.” Grandby handed in Charlotte’s mother and then joined the ladies, claiming he might have to hold Lady Worthington on his lap for the trip. The fit was tight, but the earl, surrounded by four women, certainly didn’t seem to mind.
“I must thank you for all the gossip you’ve provided us this past week, Lottie,” Lady Worthington said when she had finished arranging her skirts, her face displaying an impish grin.
A shadow appeared and disappeared quickly from Charlotte’s face when she realized the widow might only be teasing. “Because I am finally able to marry ‘His Grace with half a face’?” she replied with rolled eyes and a sigh to prove she had heard the phrase far too many times.
Lady Worthington and her mother both gasped in disbelief. “Charlotte!” her mother admonished her. “What a horrible thing to say!” she proclaimed as the horses pulled out of the circle drive, heading toward the road that would take them north to Plaistow.
“But she knows of what she speaks,” Grandby put in quickly, patting Lady Worthington’s hand gently. “The ton have not been kind to our Duke of Chichester in their on dit,” he murmured.
Noticing his hand closing on the top of hers, Lady Worthington acquiesced. “’Tis true, I suppose. But that was not the gossip to which I was referring. I was speaking of Lady Charlotte’s matchmaking skills.”
Charlotte giggled. “I wasn’t aware I could be accused of such an occupation,” she replied in surprise. “Of whom are you speaking?” Even before she finished her question, the smile on her face turned to an ‘o’ as she realized what Lady Worthington meant. “Lady Hannah?” she wondered then, her voice almost a whisper.
Her mother placed a hand on her arm. “Yes. The Earl of Gisborn called on her father first thing Wednesday morning to request that he be allowed to court her. He and Lady Hannah were seen riding in Hyde Park that very same day!” She paused a moment as if in thought. “Although it wasn’t during the fashionable hour,” she added, her expression indicating she wasn’t particularly happy about that part of the gossip.
“And then he asked for her hand later that night at the Attenborough’s ball! I do believe they are being married this very instant,” Lady Worthington explained happily. “Grandby and I were invited, of course,” she added wickedly, her bottom wiggling a bit in her seat. “But Grandby thought we should attend this wedding seeing as how he is godfather to both the bride and groom.” She paused a moment as she glanced over at her escort. “And we must be careful not to make any mention of our betrothal. We wouldn’t want to take away any of the fun from Henry and Hannah,” she said sotto voce.
Lady Charlotte grinned at Lady Worthington’s use of the earl’s and Lady Hannah’s Christian names, completely missing the comment the older woman made to Charlotte’s godfather. With Lady Worthington’s connections and the number of friends she could claim, she was entitled to the right, Charlotte supposed. “I am very happy … for
the both of them,” Charlotte murmured, a pang of guilt making her wonder if she had done the right thing in recommending Lady Hannah Slater to Henry Forster, Earl of Gisborn. Given the love he felt for the mother of his child, it was doubtful he would ever love Hannah. At least he might feel affection for her, though. And even if Hannah claimed never to expect the love of a man, Charlotte hoped for her sake that at least Henry would feel affection for her friend.
“The announcement of your wedding in The Times was perfectly worded,” her mother was saying. “I have it in here somewhere,” she was saying as she dug into her reticule.
Charlotte gave a start. “There was a printed announcement?” she repeated, incredulous. When had there been time for anyone to send word to The Times?
Grandby, one arm leisurely resting on the top of the squabs behind Lady Worthington’s shoulders, cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “I would admit to having written it myself except I cannot take credit for that one,” he murmured, his free hand reaching over to take one of Lady Worthington’s. He lifted it to his lips and brushed the gloved hand, closing his eyes as he did so.
Lady Worthington blushed, the soft pink coloring her face instantly. “He means that he wrote the announcement for our wedding, you see,” she explained as she gazed happily at Charlotte.
Charlotte’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Oh, I am ever so glad to hear you will be marrying my godfather,” she said proudly. “He is Wainwright’s godfather as well. I do wish you happy,” she added with a huge grin.
“Oh, my. Does that mean I can be a fairy godmother?” Lady Worthington asked with an impish grin, her attention going to Grandby.
He gave her a lazy grin in return. “I’ll have Rundell make you a wand and Bridge can pick out a diamond for the tip of it,” he teased gently before he noticed Charlotte’s suddenly serious expression. “What is it, my dear Charlotte?”
“Oh, darling, don’t do that. You’ll get wrinkles,” Charlotte’s mother admonished her.
Glancing from Grandby to her mother, Charlotte ignored her mother’s plea and asked, “If you did not write the wedding announcement, then … then who did?”
They all shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but it became apparent to Charlotte that the source of the information provided to the newspaper had to be Joshua Wainwright. Somehow he had managed to get a dispatch to London in time for a notice to be placed in the society page. And he’d secured a marriage license. He had asked for her hand and given her a ring. He really did intend to marry me all along, she realized with a great deal of surprise. She was grinning when the barouche pulled into the chapel yard. “I am getting married,” she murmured as the barouche came to a halt.
Grandby smiled at her comment. He pulled something out of his waistcoat pocket, and once he had seen to it the ladies were safely on the ground, he excused himself to find the grooms. The two men were at the front of the chapel, conferring with the vicar, while a woman he vaguely recognized stood off to one side.
Garrett was the first to notice him, giving the earl a deep bow before hurrying over to shake his hand and introduce him to Jane.
“Ah, my favorite faro dealer,” Grandby replied as he took Jane’s hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “You look even more beautiful by the light of day, Miss Wethersby,” he stated with a lifted eyebrow. “Had I known you were still unattached …”
Garrett cleared his throat and stepped in to retrieve his bride from the earl. “You would still have preferred a widow,” he finished for the earl, his eyebrows cocked to suggest the earl was being naughty.
Having completed his discussion with the vicar, Joshua turned to find Grandby regarding him with a proud smile. Surprised at the sight of his godfather, Joshua found himself in a bear hug with the older statesman before he realized what was happening. “Grandby!” Joshua shouted as he returned the hug. “How the hell are you?” He caught his mistake immediately; before the vicar could frown or admonish him, Joshua apologized profusely. “Nerves, you see. I’m about to get leg-shackled,” he said by way of an excuse.
Grandby nodded. “I’m in the same boat as you. About to be leg-shackled and loving every minute of it,” he said with mischief. He handed Joshua a bank note. “Ellsworth asked me to give this to you,” he murmured as he glanced around, wanting to be sure the two of them weren’t overheard.
Joshua’s eyes went to the bank draft and he looked up, startled. “Where did he get this?” he asked, pointing to the cheque. The dowry amount of ten thousand pounds was written out to his name, and the signature was that of Edward Bingham, Earl of Ellsworth.
The earl’s brows furrowed as he indicated his surprise at Joshua’s query. “I should think it’s been in an escrow account,” he answered with a shrug, as if he was unaware of any problems with the dowry.
Joshua glanced at the name of the bank on the note. It was not Barings Bank but rather the Bank of England. So, apparently Nicholas Bingham had been draining an entirely different bank account, and yet was under the impression he had been accessing Charlotte’s dowry account the entire time. “Charlotte’s cousin didn’t get to this account then?” he asked, sotto voce.
Grandby allowed a grin. “Ellsworth is a far smarter man than most give him credit for,” he replied evenly. “And he is a very good judge of character. I think he knew Nicholas would prove a poor choice as an heir. So he gave the cur enough rope to hang himself, and the boy did just that. But he hung himself on the monies from a household account. Ellsworth never gave him access to his real accounts, to the fortune he has stashed away at the Bank of England.”
Lowering his head, Joshua considered Grandby’s words. “And Ellsworth Park?”
The Earl of Torrington shrugged again. “One of many such unentailed properties. Not his favorite, of course. And now it is in the good hands of a steward who will do it some good,” he added, referring to the Earl of Gisborn. “Your children will benefit, of course. I was made aware by my solicitor that Gisborn has already entailed the estate as part of his will. And Ellsworth will no doubt do the same for most of his lands.”
Sighing, Joshua thought of the unnecessary grief Charlotte had experienced believing her family’s fortune was lost due to her cousin and, because of her willfulness, to Gisborn. And yet, in the end, it seemed the only loss was an old oak tree.
“I shall do the same with this,” Joshua promised as he regarded his godfather, holding up the bank draft. “Thank you.”
The earl smiled. “Good choice, Your Grace. Take care of my favorite goddaughter, will you?” he said then, his voice a bit louder as he nodded toward the entrance to the chapel.
“I will,” Joshua replied, a smile lighting his face as he turned to look where Grandby indicated. There stood his bride gazing at him. She was beautiful. She was blushing. And she was smiling like he’d never seen her smile before.
His own smile was brilliant in the morning light that filtered into the chapel. And, as he absently felt the new black leather mask he’d had made for the occasion, he realized for the first time in a long time, his face didn’t hurt.
Epilogue
Ever After
August 1816
The weddings had been a blur. The celebratory feast had gone on and on until nearly dark. The villagers and tenants and those who came from London for the festivities bid the couples their happy and departed. The staff picked up, cleaned up and put away all the evidence of the day. Life at Wisborough Oaks returned to a routine that now included more women, more workmen in the West Wing and dinners for four in the dining room – at least until the Wainwrights left for their wedding trip to Oxfordshire.
Garrett McElliott slowly opened his eyes, quite sure he’d been bumped or nudged from his rather satisfying slumber, to find two rather beautiful nipples in front of him. Naked, Jane lay on her side facing him, her swollen belly pressed against his torso. About to kiss one of the nipples, he felt a distinct kick in his ribs and let out a cry of surprise. Jane opened her eyes, a mischievous gr
in appearing on her face as she caught his look of astonishment. “He’s been at it for a while,” she whispered, lifting her arms above her head to stretch. She writhed gently for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly as she did so. “He’s getting back at me for last night.”
Garrett’s eyebrow arched as he considered her words. “He?” he repeated, a look of awe crossing his face as he watched the outline of her body moving seductively under the bed linens.
“Well, I do hope it’s a boy. I cannot imagine having a girl who kicks the way this baby does,” she murmured. “She’d be a hoyden!” A yawn overtook her and she rolled onto her other side before scooting her body back against Garrett’s, her warm bottom nesting against his groin.
Garrett snaked an arm around her belly, his hand resting on the curve in a protective manner. “I don’t want to get up,” he whispered as he pressed his chest against Jane’s back. He kissed her shoulder and nuzzled her neck, leaving moist spots in the wake of his kisses.
“Then do not,” Jane replied with a grin. “It’s not as if His Grace will object.” The Duke and Duchess of Chichester were on holiday, having taken the ducal coach up to Oxfordshire to visit the Earl of Gisborn and his new countess, Lady Hannah Slater, at their estate. Charlotte thought a trip with Joshua now would be their last chance to travel before she would go into confinement. She hadn’t yet told the duke she was expecting a baby, but Jane thought the man would probably figure it out during the trip if Charlotte didn’t tell him. “And besides, I am in need of some … loving,” Jane added as she reached down to wrap her hand around his and move it to her breast.
Garrett’s fingers brushed over the erect bud of her nipple, gently pinching it as Jane inhaled sharply. With his cock already hard and trapped behind her thighs, Garrett didn’t need further encouragement. Moving into position, he pushed his throbbing manhood between the warm, wet folds at the top of her thighs and then allowed Jane to adjust her body so that he could impale her from behind.
The Grace of a Duke Page 32
