“Yesterday. I don’t mind saying, I was worried for a spell. We had rough seas for the crossing.” Solworth’s expression grew distant. “It’s been a long time since I laid eyes on England, or Lanora. She grew up.”
William wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he returned the conversation to the duke’s journey. The ride to the church wasn’t long. At first their conversation was stilted, but soon William and Solworth were conversing as old friends. William felt at ease with this man, the only person aside from Lanora who knew all his secrets. Only one point of contention stood between them, and it wasn’t the lie of Darington.
The carriage drew to a halt. “Ready?” Solworth asked.
“I have one question, my lord.”
Solworth raised his brows.
“Lanora wrote to you often, yet she rarely heard from you. She believed you didn’t read her letters, yet I know you did. You reported her every deed to me. Why not write your daughter? She missed you. She wanted to know her father.”
Solworth was silent. William began to feel he’d spoken out of turn. Certainly, it wasn’t a question for his wedding day.
“Because I wasn’t coming home, and I wasn’t bringing her to Egypt,” he finally said. “Each time I wrote, I only disappointed her.” Solworth shrugged. “You don’t know the pain of breaking your child’s heart.”
William did not, nor could he imagine the pain of breaking Lanora’s. It was one heartache he would never have to know, for he would never give her cause for anguish. “You’re right, I don’t know, nor quite understand.”
“It would have killed me to come home, but Egypt was no place for her. Someday, when you have a child, you’ll see that.”
William nodded. He wasn’t convinced, but sensed that was all the explanation he would have.
Solworth leaned forward. “Never hurt her, William.”
“I won’t, my lord.” It was a promise he could make with all sincerity.
Solworth smiled. “I know. Now, shall we? You don’t want to be late.”
They left the carriage and strode up the steps. Entering the church, William heard his name whispered. He turned toward the sound. “Lanora?”
“I have to speak to you,” she whispered, hidden behind a screen in the vestibule.
William looked to Solworth, who shrugged. William strode over to the screen.
“You’ve met my father?” Lanora asked, her voice low.
“I have.”
“You like him?”
“Of course.” Was that her concern?
“Good. Could you send him into the chapel? I would like to speak with you in private.”
“Isn’t it ill luck?”
“William, that’s ridiculous. You can close your eyes if you like, but you and I are speaking.”
William shook his head. He crossed back to Solworth. “Don’t linger on my account, my lord. Lanora wishes a quick word.”
“Don’t be long,” Solworth said. He nodded to William, then toward the screen, and entered the chapel.
William returned to Lanora, skirting the screen. Taking his hand, she pulled him through a doorway and into a small room. Relinquishing her grip, she turned to face him.
Her gown was simple, for her beauty required no adornment. Her silken black hair was arranged to curl about her face, longer locks draped over her shoulder. Gems sparkled against the midnight hue, but none were as bright as her emerald eyes. She was nothing short of perfection.
“You wish to speak?” William clasped his hands behind his back to avoid reaching for her.
“There’s something I must tell you before we marry.”
