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“My lady.” Nicholas bowed, and she returned the courtesy with a graceful curtsy.
“Please, my lord, Elizabeth. If you have known my husband since youth, then consider me a childhood friend also.” Her smile became inviting, friendly. The knots in his shoulders unraveled further.
“You are too kind…Elizabeth. Then you must call me Nicholas.”
Her blue eyes lit with pleasure. “Nicholas it is.”
Her warmth wrapped around him. Thornwood had found an absolute peach.
“May I offer my felicitations?”
“Thank you,” he replied, harsh reality stripping the moment of her kind spirit.
Thornwood slapped him on the shoulder. “So you are finally ready for the shackles of matrimony!”
He chuckled as his wife gasped, “Richard!”
“It seems I am,” Nicholas responded, glancing apologetically in Lady Thornwood’s direction. “I am grateful you were able to accede to my request on such short notice.”
“There is little excitement in the country, is there, Elizabeth? How could we resist?”
Perhaps it was his imagination, or it was his heightened sensitivity this day, but he was sure Lady Thornwood flinched. She glanced at the floor but not before he caught the sadness in her eyes. He recognized the ache of loneliness. It had been his companion for four long years.
“Your betrothed?” Lady Thornwood asked, her gaze once again steady.
“She will meet us at the chapel.” He did not answer her question. He knew the woman wanted to know more, perhaps why she had been asked to stand witness to a stranger, but he could not tell her that despite his anger, his disgust, he could not allow their marriage to be witnessed only by servants. He could not bring himself to belittle Catherine to that degree or desecrate their vows in so deliberate a manner.
Lady Thornwood’s eyebrows tilted in query, but she asked nothing further. Fredericks announced the carriage. They exited the room only to find the butler standing there holding out a tan waistcoat, with a dark-blue jacket tossed over the other arm. The man did not have to say a word. His censure at Nicholas’s state of undress was clear in his expression. Nicholas had forgotten himself. He was no beast to go out as such to the church, and he would need to apologize to Lady Thornwood for such disrespect.
He slipped into the waistcoat, quickly buttoning it up, trying not to think of its owner. For he knew without a doubt it was his brother’s. Fredericks helped him into the too-snug jacket, then shifted him around to tie a simple neck cloth.
“It must be your excitement, my lord, making you forget yourself.”
Nicholas did not answer.
Fredericks brushed at his shoulders and straightened his lapels. “Not that I blame you, my lord,” Fredericks continued quietly. “Miss Baring is a diamond of the first water. We are pleased she will become our mistress. She is just the breath of fresh air this old house needs.” He stared, his milky blue eyes piercing. “She is still the girl you left, son.”
He wished it were true. The girl he’d fallen in love with would not have considered such treason. For that was what it was. She’d switched her allegiance and willfully breached his trust. “You’d do well to remember your place, Fredericks,” he said brusquely. He turned from the melancholy in the old man’s eyes and strode to the door. Damn Fredericks for defending a traitor.
Lord and Lady Thornwood had already been handed into their carriage. His carriage was harnessed behind theirs and ready to go, but he did not want to ride alone. He climbed into Thornwood’s conveyance. Neither of the couple commented on his improved appearance. A blanket of silence settled as they made their way to the small village chapel. When the carriage came to a halt, Thornwood hopped out, quickly reaching in for his wife before the footman arrived. She seemed hesitant as she took his hand but then smiled brightly at her husband. Nicholas shook his head. He must stop projecting his own trepidation on the couple.
He alighted, the gray morning no brighter for the last hour, although the rain had abated. The carriage he’d sent for Catherine sat on the roadway, its driver’s cap pulled down as the man dozed. His neck tingled as he let his shoulders relax. She had come.
The Reverend Jonathon Wilson stood on the landing, his tiny frame dwarfed by the chapel. He flew down the few steps, his cassock billowing behind. “My lord! We were beginning to think…” His voice trailed as he obviously registered the grave insult he was about to speak, and he fretted with his cravat, his head small amid the fold of white cotton.
The man was here on short notice only because of Nicholas’s new title, the same title that had enabled him to quickly get a special license while passing through London. He felt a pang of guilt. While it may conflict with well-founded religious beliefs, the clergy knew on which side their bread was buttered. One could not woo the souls of others if one did not have a congregation, and a congregation’s existence rested upon the whims of its benefactors, the nobles.
“I apologize, but I awaited my dear friends as witnesses. One cannot pledge under God without appropriate attesters to proclaim the worth of the union.”
The reverend took stock of Nicholas’s companions and, no doubt noting their rich appointments, nodded enthusiastically. “Quite right, my lord. Quite right.”
Yes, no doubt about it, the man knew where to toss his hat. Nicholas frowned at his own cynicism. Did his dark mood know no bounds? Mr. Wilson had always been a sincere, dedicated member of the clergy. He shook his head, trying to refocus on the moment. “Lord and Lady Thornwood, may I present the Reverend Jonathon Wilson.”
The trio conversed pleasantly about the changing weather before they looked at him expectantly. He swept his arm, gesturing for them to ascend. It was time to get the deed done.
They entered the vestibule. and he froze in the entranceway. He’d imagined many things for this day, but this was not one. Catherine stood, so stiff and pale that he wondered briefly if she was ill. He wanted to go to her and wrap her in his warmth, bring her home, and nurse her. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image. She had brought this on herself. He pushed his aching heart aside.
“Catherine.” He hadn’t meant to say it so caustically.
