The small clock on the dressing table chimed the nine o’clock hour, and Fortuity’s heart jumped. “Oh dear. It is time for me to go down.” She was about to marry the man she loved, and yet the moment was filled with dread rather than excitement, brightness, or joy.
“It is a lovely morning for a wedding, my lady.” Anne gave her an encouraging nod. “Warm and sunny enough to speak the vows in the garden. ’Tis a prosperous sign, I am thinking.”
“Yes.” Fortuity smoothed her hands down the delicate folds of her favorite gown, a creamy satin embellished with embroidered roses scattered across the skirt and trimming the empire waist and neckline. “I suppose when next I see you, I shall be Lady Ravenglass, and we shall be in our home.” Shealmost choked on the words. If her knees didn’t give way and send her crashing to the floor, it would surely be a miracle.
Anne clutched an armload of wraps to her chest and gave her a wistful look. “Yes. Go, my lady, and God be with you.”
“Yes,” Fortuity agreed under her breath. “God be with me.” She forced herself out the door and down the staircase before she gave in to her fears and climbed down the trellis on the back wall and ran away to who knew where. She loved Matthew so much. Had even entertained daydreams of becoming his wife. Yet now that it was about to happen, she dreaded it, knowing he would come to resent her because honor had forced him to marry her. He would eventually hate her, even though he denied it.
Herdearestring caught her attention as it sparkled in the light, whispering that all would be well. All she had to do wastrust.She snorted at the thought. Trust. That word was as fickle asfriendship.
“There you are,” Chance said as he met her at the base of the stairs. He offered his arm. “Would you grant me the honor of escorting you to your betrothed?”
“You are trying too hard, brother,” she said, but took his arm. It was taking all her energy to get through this. She had none to spare for a tussle with Chance.
“I want you happy, Fortuity.” Genuine concern shone in his dark blue eyes that tended to flash to a hearty amethyst whenever his temper was stirred. “Please know that.”
“I do, Chance. This is just not how I thought I would come to be married.”
He patted her hand. “I believe he fosters a genuine fondness for you, sister. Do not give up hope.”
“Let us just do this, shall we?”
He escorted her through the formal dining room and out the double doors to the garden their mother had loved so. Hersisters rose from their seats in front of Matthew and the vicar and beamed at her, silently encouraging her with their love and support.
Her steps faltered as she risked a look at her husband-to-be, standing in front of the ivy-covered arbor. He was resplendent and entirely too handsome for her ability to remain calm with his black dress coat, matching black waistcoat, creamy white cravat, and buff trousers. But it was his wide, gleaming white smile and the joy dancing in his eyes that made her stumble. He seemed, dare she hope, actually happy to be marrying her.
Chance squeezed her hand and whispered, “Steady on, Tutie. All will be well. I promise.”
Since she couldn’t very well argue with her brother as she walked forward to say her vows, she simply held her head higher and forced a smile that came easier when she noticed that doddering old Vicar Darbley gently swayed back and forth as though about to fall asleep and topple off his perch. Heaven help the poor man who refused to step aside and hand over his flock to his much younger curate.
Chance must have noticed the man’s demeanor as well, because he trembled against her arm with silent laughter.
When they reached thechopping block, as she had come to think of the place where she would recite her vows, her brother kissed her cheek and whispered, “I love you, Tutie, and wish you every happiness.”
She thanked him with a smile, then swallowed hard as Matthew took her hand and gently tugged her forward to stand beside him.
He grinned down at her, then cast a sideways glance at the vicar. “Shall we wake him?”
“Since we cannot marry without him, I assume we must.”
Matthew cleared his throat. “Vicar? We are ready.”
A soft snore came from the balding man with his chin tucked to his chest.
“How does he not fall over?” Fortuity whispered to Matthew.
“Horses sleep standing up.”
“Yes, but they have four legs with which to balance better. A much sturdier base, I would think.”
Chance stepped around them and touched the elderly man’s arm, then gently shook him when he still didn’t awaken. “Mr. Darbley,” he said quite loudly. “We are ready to proceed with the vows.”
“By the power vested in me by God Almighty and the Church of England, I now pronounce you man and wife,” the vicar said, then blinked and glanced around the garden. “Will the wedding breakfast be here or elsewhere?”
“Here,” Matthew said in a tone that indicated his patience was wearing thin. “After we have said our vows. You got the last bit right. Might we now go back and do the first part?”
Unfazed, the vicar chuckled and fumbled with the pages of his prayer book. “Ah, yes. Do forgive me. I tend to wander off a bit now and again.”
