“Ah, yes, but I’ve forgotten the most important people we cannot let down.”
“Who would that be?” She stuck out her lower lip, defiance in every line of her face.
“Our children.”
Sophie remained silent for a long few minutes before responding. “If you insist on marriage, will I be full and truly your wife? Not in name only?”
“Well and truly, as soon as I can get a special license today.”
“And you promise you’ll never leave me for good? You’ll always come back?”
“God’s toe, woman! My knee aches from awaiting your demands. Is that all?”
“No, Arnaud, it’s not. I want everything. I want all of you.”
He stood and swept her close, covering her mouth with his. When he’d finished, she smiled like a satisfied cat, lapping her morning cream. He kissed her again.
“You already have all of me. You’ve had me since that morning outside the milliner’s shop. For the love of all that’s holy, will you have me for your husband?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, Captain Bellingham, I will be your wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Wild poundingat her front door made Sophie think both sides of her heart were going to cease beating and expire. Then her cheeks burned.
She pushed at the mass of warm man blocking her view of the bedroom window. “Quickly—out into the back garden.”
He turned and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Before the sun sets on this day, you, Sophia Brancelli, will be Mrs. Arnaud Bellingham. There’s nothing left to fear. Let’s go down and greet our guests.
Within minutes, a great crowd filled the first floor of Sophie’s townhouse. Arnaud’s mother, her coachman, and one of her footmen waited outside with her cavernous, ostentatious carriage. All his men, except for Captain Neville, flooded in around him and half-carried him out to the conveyance.
“Where are they taking him?” Sophie picked her way through her friends and anxiously peered out the front parlor window.
“They’re taking him back to Albany to change into his dress uniform and then to Lambeth Palace to get a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury,” Sir Thomas said, his tone brooking no disagreement. He clapped Viscount Rumsford on the back and they both drank a toast from glasses filled from one of the champagne bottles in the cases he’d had footmen deliver to the lower level kitchen. A bevy of servants had flowed past Sophie down the stairs with endless trays and boxes full of provisions.
“What are they doing?” Sophie whispered to Sir Thomas.
“They’re preparing a wedding breakfast, my girl.” Sir Thomas’s mother, Lady Fitzroy, moved next to her and took a filled glass from a tray being passed by one of Sir Howick’s footmen.
“Must you always listen to my conversations?” Sir Thomas made a tsking noise at his mother but smiled fondly.
Lydia paused in commanding an army of servants arranging the blooms from her gardens: Sky blue cornflowers; stocks in all shades from red to pink to cream; another bright explosion of intensely red dahlias; and lavender wisteria blooms overflowing from huge glass bowls on every free surface as well as in pots on the floor banked against the corners of all the rooms. The riot of scents was like a walk along a country path in spring.
Lydia raced to the front hallway entrance just as Captain Neville’s broad shoulders filled the front hallway entrance. He leaned his blonde head close to Lydia’s, after which she joined Sophie and lifted her hand. “Come with me. I have something to show you.” She turned and dragged her friend up the stairs behind her. Ladies Howick, Fitzroy, and Rumsford followed.
Sophie inhaled sharply. Hanging from a peg on her chamber wall was a lavender-sprigged silk gown with gold threads embroidered into the banded pattern along the hem. Sheer sleeves of gold-tinged silk fell to the side of the low bodice. “Where did this come from?”
“Mrs. Withers,” Lydia said. “She had Madame Bonheur make it especially for your wedding.”
“Wait a minute.” Sophie put her hands on her hips. “How was everyone so sure there wouldbea wedding?”
Lydia rolled her eyes. All the other women smiled as if they shared a great secret. “You were the only one who wasn’t sure. You’re expected as soon as possible at the chapel at Lambeth Palace. Papa met Arnaud there to make sure there’s no problem with the license. Now it’s your turn to do your part. Turn around so we can get you out of this old dress and into that tub of hot, steaming water behind the screen. Jane is itching to do your hair.” Lydia pointed to the corner where her lady’s maid stood. “And then I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress.”
Less than an hour later, accompanied by Captain Neville, Lydia, Arnaud’s mother, Honore, Lady Howick, and Mrs. Withers, she climbed up into the Howick family carriage. Staring down at her gold silk slippers, she felt like a character out of a fairytale. The coachmen flicked his whip, and they were off to Lambeth Palace across the river
Lydia and Captain Neville stood behind Sophie and Arnaud in the bone-chilling cold of the stone chapel. The rare London sun shone bright outside Lambeth Palace, but inside it was as if the old bones of the building refused to give up the biting cold of centuries.
Sophie trembled inside her silk confection of a dress and hoped no one else noticed. Arnaud must have known, because he moved closer and lent his body warmth.
