Chapter Fifty-Five
Julian woke with a start. He had been having a vivid dream of seeing Caroline fall through the ice of the frozen lake. Every time he had got close to reaching her outstretched hand, she had sunk beneath the water and been lost from sight.
To his relief, the real Caroline was laying with her head against his shoulder, staring out the window. A sense of immense pride in her welled up inside him. She had chosen loyalty to him over her long-held dream of a society wedding. He vowed to make it up to her with a wedding ball fit for a queen.
The sun was beginning to peek above the horizon as the coach made its way into Brighton. Among their little band, James was still asleep. Francis stared out the window, the same as his sister, while the bishop was hard at work writing what Julian eventually recognized as a wedding sermon.
“I suppose the first thing we need to do is make sure that the Count and Countess of Lienz are still in port,” said Julian. His greatest fear was that they would be sailing with the early morning tide.
“So, a visit to the port authority should be our first call. If I ask them to withhold permission for the Count of Lienz’s yacht to leave, that should buy us some time to get the wedding sorted,” replied Francis.
“I suggest you let Caroline and I out at St Nicholas’s church. I will liaise with the local vicar to make the wedding service arrangements. You need to go and find your darling mother,” said Hugh Radley.
Julian frowned. He needed his mother after the wedding, not before. The bishop was suggesting something which Julian found more than a little displeasing. “I am not having that woman at our wedding. She will make a mockery of the whole thing.”
Given the slightest opportunity to make merry hell at his nuptials, she would do it. No. The countess had bested him for the last time.
“Think on it, Newhall. If she has no choice but to come to your wedding and play nice, who then is the victor?” said Francis.
“If the countess comes to your wedding, I shall make certain she behaves. I don’t think even your mother would chance insulting a senior member of the Church of England,” added Hugh.
Caroline shifted in her seat and sat up straight. She looked at Julian, then to his surprise, she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “What an excellent idea. We should invite both the Count and Countess of Lienz to our wedding. By being in attendance, your mother can never make any claim that we are not properly married.”
As soon as Caroline and her uncle were let out at the ancient mother church of St Nicholas, the travel coach made its way to the marina. Fortunately, there were few boats in the harbor, and Julian quickly caught sight of the yacht belonging to the Count of Lienz.
The harbormaster took a little bit of convincing, and a small fee, before he agreed to have extra ropes tied to the yacht ensuring that it could not leave. It was only after Francis made pointed mention of his friendship with the Prince of Wales that the deal was finally sealed.
“Mind you, I can only guarantee that my men will stand guard until the evening tide. Without any legal reason for keeping the boat in harbor, I am already stretching the limits of my authority,” said the harbormaster.
With that particular task sorted, Julian’s attention now turned to that of convincing his mother that it was in her best interest to put an end to the matter of the Crusader Ruby.
They followed the harbormaster and his men to the docks. As soon as the dockhands began to lash extra ropes over the yacht and lock them in place, an almighty row broke out.
The captain of the yacht was none too pleased to be told he would not be sailing with the late morning tide, and went off in search of his master. The count soon returned, followed by his wife.
“What the devil is going on?” shouted the count.
The countess’s eyes grew wide as she and Julian locked gazes. She clenched her fists and shook her hand in his direction. “You have no right to stop us!” she bellowed.
Her husband tried to take his wife by the arm, but she batted his hand away. The countess stood with her hands on her hips and glared at her son.
Julian smiled back. “Mother dearest, you have it all wrong. I am not here to stop you leaving; I am here to invite you to my wedding, which is taking place here this morning.”
She huffed angrily. “Don’t be ridiculous, Newhall. Nobles do not get married in Brighton! And even if you do, I won’t be coming.”
Julian pointed toward the harbormaster and the crew. Despite the protests of the yacht’s captain, the extra ropes were being locked in place.
“You will if you wish to sail today. The Bishop of London and his niece are waiting for us at St Nicholas’s church,” he replied.
Francis sidestepped the furious Countess of Lienz and walked directly up to the count. He bowed low and introduced himself. “My name is Francis Saunders. I have travelled through the night with my family and friends in the cause of love. Love that has seen my sister Caroline give up her long-held dream of a wedding at St Paul’s cathedral in order to support the man she loves. Your highness, I ask that you intercede on behalf of both that love, and the sense of justice that I know a man such as yourself would understand.”
The count looked to his wife, who vehemently shook her head.
“Wait here,” said the count.
When he turned and headed back to the boat, the countess scuttled after him, huffing loudly.
Until that moment, Julian had never fully appreciated Francis Saunders’s negotiating skills, but his opinion was forever sealed when the count returned a few minutes later, holding a box in his hands.
Julian held his breath and hoped.
“It is time to end this disgraceful row. My wife and I would be honored to attend your wedding,” said the count. He handed the box to Julian, who took it with trembling hands.
Julian unlocked the box and peeked inside. He closed it again and held it tight. “Thank you.”
