Her parents both took a nip in the morning after nights they had overindulged. Perhaps that was what she needed. Just the thought lifted her spirits.
She put on a dressing gown and opened the door. The hall was empty. She padded toward the study—but saw her uncle inside reading the morning paper. She immediately turned around... and went to her mother’s room. She knocked on the door.
No one answered. Not even the maid.
Leonie cracked open the door and peered inside. The room was empty. She hurried to the dressing table and pulled on the drawer. The flask was right there.
She took a nip.
The brandy cut her fuzziness. It tasted delicious.
Leonie dared to carry the flask back to her room. This time, she had more control over herself on the trip.
She knew she didn’t dare keep the flask. Her mother might notice it missing. Leonie took the teapot from her breakfast tray. She lifted the window sash and tossed the contents. She then filled it with brandy.
There. No one would be the wiser. Her mother would just assume she’d emptied her flask herself.
Leonie had no trouble sneaking the flask back to its proper place.
Her headache disappeared and she was even able to eat her breakfast while sipping a cup of brandy. What a remarkable restorative.
Why, by the time Leonie was bathed, dressed, and ready to leave for the church, she was so mellow and at peace with the world she could have married a highwayman.
She chewed mint leaves for her breath, and no one was the wiser.
Roman found himself surprisingly nervous on his wedding day.
For the last week and a half, the idea of marrying Leonie Charnock had not seemed completely real to him. He’d gone through the motions, often with her at his side—and her silent disapproval, her overpoliteness, her infernal repeated question whispered impatiently at every private moment he could manage to steal until he wanted to shout in rage.
And yet, he had maintained the pretense of doting suitor, despite it all... or perhapsbecauseof it all.
He knew he was good for Leonie. He was the right man for her. He always had been. He was now going to prove it to her by being the husband she deserved—
The door swung open in the back of the chapel. He stood. He was alone. No friends; no family. The Reverend Davis waited on the bench across the aisle from him. He also rose to his feet.
Roman had not yet told his parents or his sisters of his marriage. He’d chosen not to because he did not want their disapproval of his marrying for money. The Gilchrists were an opinionated lot. They would speak their mind on the matter, and he’d rather hear their denouncements later rather than sooner. The letter announcing his marriage was on its way to them, posted two days ago.
Besides, he could not have managed his family and Leonie’s sullen reluctance to marry. For all he knew, his sisters Dora and Beth would have takenherside, God help him.
The Charnocks were not quiet people. William Charnock was complaining about something to his wife. His voice broke off when he saw Roman and the rector.
He came up the stone aisle. “I’m sorry that we are a few minutes behind our appointed time, my lord,” he said, smiling and holding out his hand—blocking Roman’s view of his bride. “You know how the women are.”
“William,” his wife chided in that bored tone of hers. “We have arrived in plenty of time.”
They were a half an hour late, another reason Roman was glad his family was not here. His mother was ruthlessly punctual.
Roman took Charnock’s hand, but then everyone moved and he had his first look at his bride.
His breath caught in his throat. His heartbeat kicked up a notch. Venus could not be lovelier.
Leonie wore her hair down, the way he liked it. A band of what appeared to be diamond roses held a lace and gauze veil in place that seemed to float in the air behind her.
Her dress was a marvel of delicate lace and layers of the same finely woven muslin shot through with silver. Her firm breasts rounded over the bodice and around her neck she wore a string of pearls as creamy as her skin. No woman had ever looked more enticing.
Roman let go of Charnock’s hand. He took a step toward Leonie and knew the truth. He wasn’t marrying her for money. He wanted her. He’d always wanted her.
She’d stopped at the first row of chairs. She gave him a tentative smile and he could have fallen to his knees and crawled to her.
