Third time lucky?Oh, but she hoped so.She lay thinking.Worrying, really, even though she told herself that there was no point in worrying.The die was cast.She’d said yes, the date was set, the banns called, her bride clothes had been delivered the day before and there was no changing her mind.
Not that she wanted to change her mind.But she still had doubts about Marcus.He wanted apracticalmarriage, he’d said.Companionship.A friend.
She could do that.
Her barrenness wasn’t an issue, he’d assured her.
So ...why was she worrying?
In a few hours she’d be promising to love, honor and obey.Honor and obey she could do, but love?He wasn’t looking for love, he’d said so.‘I’ve never wanted a love match.’
But today she was going to promise to love him—before God and the congregation.
She hadn’t loved her previous two husbands, and yet she’d made those same vows.So what was the difference?
Marcus was the difference.
Had she met him again when she was eighteen—without any marriage to spoil things—she would have happily, joyfully married him.She’d been more than half-way in love with him then, even as a young girl.
Now, as a widow with no illusions left, she was more in love with him than ever.How could she not love him?He was irresistible, not only because he was so kind and thoughtful and respectful of her feelings and opinions, and that subtle, wry, dry sense of humor, the dancing light that warmed his gray eyes, eyes that were often so grim looking.But not for her, never for her.
She turned over in bed and hunched into the bedclothes.It wasn’t just a list of qualities that made her love him.You might like a man for his qualities, but love?Love just happened.
Love for the whole man, qualities and quirks, faults and all.
Not to mention those times when his mere presence made her shiver with what she suspected was desire.
Only how could she burden him with her feelings, when he’d made it clear—more than clear—that he didn’t want love from her?
But love came in many forms, she reminded herself.Perhaps, as long as she didn’t speak her love aloud to LordI-haven’t-a-romantic-bone-in-my-body, she could love him quietly—‘reverently and discreetly’ as the wedding service said.Without embarrassing or burdening him with her unrequited, unwanted love.
Footsteps sounded outside in the corridor.The servants were up and about.Soon one of the maids would bring Tessa a cup of hot chocolate and ask her when she would want her bath.
Time to put fruitless worries away.She had a wedding to get on with.
The previous day Daisy Chance had sent around the finished wedding dress and a number of others to wear on her honeymoon.They were, Tessa decided, the nicest clothes she had ever had in her life.Every single clothing decision had been hers—taking into consideration Miss Chance’s advice, of course, and Bragge’s gentle suggestions.But the final decision in every case had been hers.For the first time in her life.It was an amazing feeling.
Unlike her previous husbands, Marcus had not offered a single suggestion.
After rejecting any breakfast—she couldn’t eat a thing—Tessa bathed and washed her hair.How much easier it was to wash and dry short hair.She slipped into her underclothes—all new.She was taking nothing from her old life into this new one.
A short time later Bragge arrived to help her dress.She lifted the soft violet silk dress over Tessa’s head, and then the gauze overdress embroidered with tiny knots of violets.
It looked lovely, Tessa decided, examining her reflection in the long mirror in her room.A little bit bridal, without looking virginal.She was achingly aware of the shadow of those two previous weddings.
Bragge put the final touches to her hair—not that there was much to arrange, but the tiny wreath of silk violets was perfect.
“His lordship sent this,” Bragge added, and handed her a flat velvet-covered case.
Tessa bit her lip as she took the case.A wedding gift.Should she have given him something?She wasn’t sure.It had never come up before.
She opened the case and gasped.A beautiful delicate pearl and amethyst necklace lay inside, along with a dainty bracelet and a matching pair of earrings.
“Oh, how pretty,” Bragge commented, looking over Tessa’s shoulder.“He must have known the color of your dress.Here, let me help you with the fastenings.”
And then it was time to go downstairs.She found Lady Gosforth waiting for her, looking magnificent in a gold and purple dress, with a large gold and purple turban on her head.
She eyed Tessa critically through the lorgnette, and sniffed.“You’ll do.We’re both a little overdressed for aquietwedding thatnobodywill come to,” she said with ill-disguised disgust.“But we don’t need to lower our standards.At least it’s in St.Georges, Hanover Square, and not in some nasty little hole-in-the-corner church in some obscure out-of-the-way place.Now come along, the carriage is here.”
