Page 130 of A Much Maligned Miss

“That day her mama lied about cutting up her own shawl.”

“Oh.” Gervaise withdrew his cigarette case. “No, it was not then, though I did notice she had rather nice ankles that day. Where is the bride by the way? She seems conspicuously absent.”

“She’s waiting to make an entrance,” Teddy answered mysteriously.

“Ah, I see.” Gervaise set his cigarette between his lips unlit. “Let us arrange the congregation tidily to wait for her. They look rather a rag-tag bunch at present.” They set about industriously lining up the waiting soldiers.

“Not him,” Teddy said. “That’s Gerrard, see the pips I painted on his collar?” Gervaise admired the smudgily painted insignia. “He will have to stand here next to Pomfrey, waiting for the bride.”

“Ah, yes, the infamous Pomfrey.” Gervaise picked up Pomfrey and scanned the untidily painted face of Teddy’s most insubordinate soldier. “Gerrard has my sympathies.” He placed him back down next to the groom.

“So, when was it, then?” Teddy said.

“When was what?”

“That you started to like Miss Halperston.”

“That is not her name anymore, Teddy,” Gervaise corrected him. “From henceforth you must address her as Lady Atherton.”

“No,” said Teddy. “I shan’t. For I mean to start calling her Caroline very soon.”

Gervaise regarded him narrowly, then sighed. “You really are the most repellant brat, you know.”

Teddy shrugged. “She liked me before she liked you,” he reminded him.

“I know. That is a cross I have to bear. One of many.”

Teddy gave him a sidelong look. “Is your new brother-in-law another?”

“Edgar?” Gervaise gave a contemptuous shrug. “Hardly. He’s a complete nonentity.”

“He’s not like her at all, is he?”

Gervaise shook his head. “Nothing like.”

“I know. It never made any sense that everyone said Miss Halperston was the bad one. It was her mama that was bad,” Teddy said, lifting a box down carefully and starting to sift through delicate tissue paper. “Edgar is just dull.”

Here comes the bride, thought Gervaise, watching the little peg doll emerge in her shimmering pink confection of a gown. He marveled anew at the hours of work that had gone into crafting the tiny wedding gown. He found himself wondering again why Caroline had gone to such lengths, after convincing him she cared so little about weddings or marriages?

His eyes pored over the exquisite little veil and silk flower bouquet. Why would she go to so much effort over a child’s trifle? Oh, he knew she adored Teddy, that part was no mystery, but the boy would have been just as happy with something that had taken half the time. This was nothing short of a labor of love. His heart thudded at the notion that on some level it was important to her that Miss Pomfrey ended up with the wedding of her dreams.

No, that made no sense. Caroline did not dream about weddings, he knew that much. She had resisted his own proposal for weeks. I’d sooner die, he remembered her saying with unfortunate vividness. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth even now. “What is this?” he asked, reaching for a small piece of paper that had fluttered down from the gift box. “A note?”

Teddy nodded, quite unconcerned as Gervaise lifted it to read, “‘For Miss Pomfrey’s marriage to her true love,’” he read aloud and felt a strange sensation in vicinity of his chest. Could this be the key to solving the mystery?

Could it be that Caroline’s foolish insistence marriage was not for her was because she thought love should play a part in any wedding? How ridiculously trite. How infuriatingly foolish. How… He discarded the note with a hand that shook.

Didn’t she know that he loved her? It must be blatantly obvious to everyone at this point. How could she not know? He had not proposed out of shame or duty, that much should be obvious. Such considerations had never prompted him into action, and most likely never would.

If he had told her he wanted to marry her for love, would she have answered him more favorably? The thought had him blinking. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asked Teddy, already knowing the answer.

55

Emmeline’s maid helped Caroline to dress after her bath and she was very kind with her, speaking in a hushed voice and wielding a gentle hand with the hairbrush. Caroline tried not to imagine what she might have heard had occurred, but if Reg was talking with the kitchen staff and Edgar was moaning and groaning for all to hear then they must have some ideas already.

“The name’s Lottie, miss,” she said, “and I’m very happy to wait on your ladyship.” Hearing the trace of a Cornish accent in her voice, Caroline flushed. Lottie must have accompanied the Farises from Penarth, which meant she must be only too aware of Caroline’s vicious reputation.

She gave no indication of it though as she helped her first into a nightgown she had never seen before, a high-necked ruffled affair which she guessed was either new or a loan from her hostess. Then her own ruby dressing robe appeared, with the matching velvet slippers, and Caroline felt rather better about herself.