Michael hooted with laughter. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. But maybe the third time will be the charm.” He leaned over and kissed her, slowly and deeply. “What do you think about getting married on the Twelfth Night? It is not quite three full weeks away and will give your ankle more time to heal.”
She nodded. “If you kiss me.”
“You minx.” He leaned in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll be back later. You rest.”
“That sounds like a ducal command.”
“It was.” He winked and kissed her again. His kisses were just what she needed to heal. Strangely, much of the anxiety she had wrestled with over their marriage had completely disappeared. That his mother had employed the London seamstress both she and her mother favored, told her the wedding would be lavish—yet she felt calm. Surely, that was a miracle unto itself, she thought, drifting off, as Chase tucked himself beside her head, on her pillow.
Epilogue
January 5, 1821
Crawley, Sussex, England
After several dreary days of rain, the sun rose high in the sky that morning and ushered in her wedding day. Relieved to see the sun, she lay in bed listening to the birds chirping outside her window like small colorful troubadours, putting everyone on alert that something wonderful would take place in a few hours. She heard St. John the Baptist Church’s bells ring in the distance and knew it was the parish’s way of heralding their special event.
This past week, she had seen her cuts and bruises heal and the last swelling of her ankle subsided. She helped with some of the celebratory events around the mansion, including decorating, Boxing Day, and delivering baskets to the community with Michael, or with his mother. She felt accepted and happy.
The door to her room opened and Beatrice walked in, followed by several maids carrying buckets of hot water. “My lady, it is time to rise. The girls are getting the tub ready. Your wedding is in but a few hours, and there’ll be no excuses for tardiness.” Her voice was light and playful.
“I wish you would take more time to recuperate, Bea. Some of the bruising has just faded,” Belle pleaded. “Sarah, or one of the other maids, can help.”
“Nonsense. I won’t hear of it. Moving around has done better for me than laying about, I assure you. Now, stop stalling,” the maid said, good-humoredly.
“I’m getting up. But surely, this must be the coldest day of the year!” Belle said, sitting up and stretching her arms behind her. Sliding into a wrap and placing her feet in the slippers at her bedside, she stood.
“That’s the spirit. I’ve ordered a hot meal for you. It’ll be here after your bath. Fair warning: your mother and the duchess plan to assist you with your dress, so you will need to have your hair done,” the maid said, adjusting the logs in the fireplace to raise the heat.
An hour later, Belle was sitting before the fire, drinking tea, and eating toast and eggs. Cook delivered a light breakfast to her and asked her to eat, saying,“no bride should be expected to go through their wedd’n without a meal to hold’em.”The eggs were delicious—lightly scrambled, her favorites.
Beatrice had styled her hair in a cascade of curls, with pearl and floral adornments that matched her dress. A mustard-yellow silk dress with a matching silk gauze overlay hung on her door to the clothespress. It had delicate petal-shaped sleeves and an embroidered overlay decorated with small strands of ivy accented with pearls. It was probably the most stunning dress she’d ever owned. The color complimented her blonde hair and green eyes. According to Beatrice, her mother had overseen the floral decorations in the church and had fashioned a bouquet and ivy streamers to match the dress.
The door opened, and the two mothers entered.
“It is time to get your dress on, darling,” her mother said. “Beatrice outdid herself with your hair. The style matches perfectly.”
Belle felt a little like a princess being dressed for a ball and could hardly believe this was her wedding day. Everything seemed perfect. She had her brothers—both together at last. And after hearing how their nanny, Miss Johns, had deceived her parents and aided in the kidnapping of her brother, things made more sense—tragically.
It seemed the woman who had called herself Marcus’s mother had lost a young son and having seen Marcus and Belle in the park before, she had decided Marcus looked like the son she had lost. She had created an elaborate plan to kidnap him, even helping her niece secure a place as a nanny. Living across the country, they had kept Marcus isolated in a place where everyone knew him only as the woman’s son.
Papa could prove nothing against the nanny, and she had long since disappeared. He wasn’t even sure the name she had given was correct after having heard Marcus’s story. When the woman was dying, after having robbed their family of years with Belle’s twin brother, Marcus was told the story and sent home. It seemed a bizarre story, but Belle had her brother back, and that was all that mattered now.
“Darling, that dress looks magnificent on you. It will spellbind His Grace when he sees you,” her mother gushed proudly. “It needed the two of us to put it on you, but your hair is completely unscathed.”
“You must call him Michael when not in public, as he has asked,” tutted the duchess, lightheartedly. “We are all family now.”
“That reminds me, Isabelle. Would you honor me by wearing the diamond earrings I wore at my wedding to your father?” the countess asked.
“I would be happy to, Mama. The honor is mine,” Belle said, allowing her mother to fasten the earrings.
A knock sounded at the door. “Is it safe for me to enter?” her father asked.
“Papa. Please come in.”
“Are you ready to go to the church? I have it on excellent authority that an anxious groom is waiting to marry you, daughter.”
Belle laughed. “I don’t doubt it. For the first time in my life, I can go to a social function without anxiously casting about for a place to run,” she said, thoughtfully. “I wasn’t happy with this arrangement, initially. But Michael is like a dream come true, Papa. I’m not over my fear of crowds, but it feels manageable. Having my brothers and a new husband helps.”
