He held her at arm’s length and looked her up and down again. “And you look so like your mama.”
Victoria’s throat tightened painfully, her eyes burned, and her breath clogged her throat. Words failed her. She and Luke missed their mother each day, but she knew their father missed her even more. They’d all learned to cope after more than a decade without her, but events such as this made her absence felt even more keenly than usual.
“Imagine!” Papa said with an overabundance of cheer. “My Victoria, a true lady and a viscountess!” Her father beamed. “As long as you are happy, of course,” he added sincerely. “I desire your happiness above all else.”
Victoria patted his hand, kissed his cheek again, and reassured him that she was, indeed, happy that she’d accepted Blackwood’s offer. “Yes, Papa; I am pleased with the decision.” She huffed a cleansing breath, stood up straighter, and said, “Shall we?”
As her fatherescorted her up the narrow central aisle of the church, Victoria’s heart raced in anticipation. It took everything in her to continue her measured, careful steps when faced with Blackwood’s sinful half-smile and impeccable appearance. He was glorious. Tall and lean, broad of shoulder, artfully hewn features, eyes rich and striking. Before then, she’d done her best to temper her longing glances, her awe of his unnatural physical perfection and unfair amount of charm, but she would have the right to indulge in her gazing for the rest of her life from that moment forward. It was a sobering realization only underscored by the binding recitation of their vows.
With her gloved hand in his, the rest of the scene—the guests, her father and brother watching from the front pew, and Mr. Simon Stratford standing up beside her soon-to-be-husband—all seemed to melt away like spun sugar. Gone were the familiar faces of her father’s business associates, the few ladies she’d met and befriended during her time in London, and even Blackwood’s closest companions, who comprised a majority of the small assemblage on the groom’s side of the church. They all became inconsequential in the presence of this man who would take her as his wife for all the rest of their days.
The unexpected tremble began in her toes and slowly danced up her calves. It made her stance unsteady as it traveled through her spine and made her fingers shake.
Until that point, she’d managed to stave off the unease that perhaps they were moving too quickly. Was she acting rashly in accepting this man’s suit? Could Luke be correct with his wordsof caution? Did she truly wish to spend the rest of her life in England? Could she be away from the only family she’d ever known?
And then, Blackwood’s fingers tightened around hers, and the corner of his mouth lifted reassuringly in a private smile just for her.
The trembling instantly stopped.
A calm, like the cool breeze after a storm, washed over her, and she squeezed his fingers back.
The kiss he pressed to her lips at the conclusion of the ceremony was nothing like the one they’d shared before. Still, she knew the softness and the skill in his touch hinted at the passion hiding just beneath the surface. Warmth spread through her limbs, and she barely resisted the urge to press her fingers to her tingling lips.
She barely remembered walking back up the aisle and making their way, along with the rest of the guests, to her family’s rented home nearby. Lady Morton had stepped in as a guiding hand during the planning process when it became clear that Victoria was overwhelmed by everything that needed to be accomplished, as well as the incorporation of English traditions with which she was unfamiliar. For that, Victoria would be eternally grateful. The parlor and dining room had been swathed in netting and draped with ivy and summer blooms in shades of blue, pink, and purple. The air was scented with sunshine and sweet floral aromas dancing on the breeze that traipsed through the open windows and doors leading out to the back garden. The wedding breakfast had been coordinated to perfection; served on fine bone china from polished silver chaffing dishes, the meal would be remembered and emulated—or so Victoria was assured by Lady Morton.
“Everything came out to perfection, did it not?” the duchess asked after kissing the air beside Victoria’s cheeks.
“I could not have done it without you,” Victoria replied sincerely.
“Of course, you could have!” Lady Morton waved a dismissive hand.
“You give me too much credit.”
“You do not give yourself enough.” Victoria barely had time to process the compliment before two ladies approached them. One was shorter with pale blond hair, sapphire eyes, and pleasantly soft features; the other was taller, long of limb, with burnished rose-gold hair.
“Ah, Lady Blackwell. You have made the acquaintance of the Marchioness of Swanleigh and Mrs. Simon Stratford, have you not?”
It took Victoria several heartbeats to realize the duchess was addressing her by her new title. She’d been Miss Victoria Rockford her entire life; she would be Lady Blackwell for the rest of it. That she was now stepping into a new identity was more than a little sobering.
“Y—Yes,” she stammered slightly. “Thank you so much for coming.” She greeted the women properly—by order of precedence.
“Thank you for the invitation,” said the taller of the two women with a broad smile. Victoria had previously met the marchioness at one of the meetings of Lady Morton’s Reading Society, and she’d also learned that, before her marriage to the Marquess of Swanleigh, the woman had once been counted amongst Blackwood’s Rank of Rakes. At first, Victoria hadn’t been entirely sure what to think of the woman whose reputation had once been so tarnished that she’d thought nothing of being unchaperoned amongst a group of London’s rakes, but she’d only needed to witness Lady Swanleigh and her husband once to have her mind put to rest. The two were clearly enamored with one another, and they spent so much time at home with theiryoung son and heir that Victoria had only had one or two other occasions to speak with them in her entire time in London.
“Yes, thank you,” said the other woman. “The decorations are glorious. I daresay this will be an event that is talked about for many months to come.” Mrs. Stratford was more reserved than Lady Swanleigh, though she was also a member of the Reading Society, so Victoria needn’t have worried that she was one of the stuffy ladies who would look down their noses at her. Victoria found her sweet and reserved, mindful and conscientious in the things she said. Blackwood had asked Mr. Stratford to stand up with him at the wedding, and Victoria was certain two more different men could not have existed in the world. Where Blackwood could be loud and animated, Stratford was quiet and observant. For such a tall, objectively attractive man, he somehow managed to blend in with the paneling of the walls. He often seemed lost in his thoughts and relied upon his wife to carry out conversations on his behalf. Victoria might have felt sorry for Mrs. Stratford, except she’d also witnessed the small gestures of affection between the two of them. There was a distinct air of adoration in the marriage that made their relationship make sense.
“I appreciate the compliments, but I ask that you direct them to Lady Morton. She had a great deal more to do with this event than I.”
“Oh, hush!” Lady Morton gently tapped Victoria’s arm with her fan. “Your first lesson in being a part of English nobility: Accept compliments, especially when they relate to your abilities as a hostess, especially when any assistance you employed hasexpresslyindicated that you are to take all the accolades for yourself.”
“Very well,” Victoria laughed lightly.
“I have a good feeling about you, Lady Blackwood,” Lady Swanleigh said with another wide smile. “My husband hadbegun to despair that anyone could entice Blackwood to settle down; I was always insistent that it would simply take the right woman. Who knew the right woman had to sail all the way here from America? Though it makes sense…Blackwell never did like to do things the easy way if there was a more interesting way to be had.”
“Why settle for an Englishwoman when there is a beautiful, bright American?” Lady Morton chimed in with an airy laugh as she claimed a drink from a passing servant. Coming from anyone else, the comments might have been underhanded or snarky, but these women had been nothing but supportive of Blackwood and their relationship. And Victoria hoped she might continue to count on them as she settled into her new role. She could only guess at the challenges a newly minted viscountess might encounter. She would need their support if she was going to make her way in this world.
“Indeed,” intoned Mrs. Stratford. The marchioness and duchess were quickly pulled into another conversation, leaving Victoria alone with the wife of the man who had so recently stood up in her wedding. Mrs. Stratford had always been polite and kind, but Victoria could tell there was more behind the woman’s smile than she let on.
Deciding to have it out, Victoria asked, “Won’t you join me on the terrace for a moment? I require a bit of air.” Indeed, the room had grown quite full of all the guests now having meandered over from the church.
