Nicholas laughed as they walked into the parlor. “Tell me what you have been up to while I’ve been away.”
Seated together on the sofa, she gave him a shortened version, making him laugh at her struggle with Bella’s gown. “What about our honeymoon, Nicholas? You haven’t said where we are going.”
He leaned over and kissed her, gazing deep into her eyes. “It’s a surprise.”
“I love surprises,” Gwen said from the doorway. “Good to see you back safely, Nicholas. Carrie has been extremely busy, seeing to the wedding gowns, the invitations, and consulting the rector about the church decorations. I’ve arranged the breakfast menu with my chef and hired the musicians. You will find everything has been miraculously completed in your absence. That trip of yours was remarkably well-timed, I must say.”
Nicholas chuckled. “I’ve always prided myself on my sense of timing.” He removed a piece of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to Carrie.
“The special license. How wonderful.” Carrie lifted her gaze to his.
Nicholas turned to his sister. “All jokes aside, you have been a tremendous help to us, Gwen, in all of this.”
“We are so grateful,” Carrie added warmly.
“I think this occasion calls for a glass of wine, don’t you?” Gwen said. “I’ll ask Winston to send for some of the French champagne he has secreted away in the cellar for a special occasion. That is, if he and his friends haven’t already finished it.”
“I heard that,” Winston said, coming into the room. “Rest assured, the champagne is on its way. Good to see you back, Nicholas.” He sat and crossed his legs. “How did you find the ruins?”
As the men talked, Gwen leaned closer to Carrie. “Do they remind you of Jeremy? Men are really little boys at heart.”
“I heard that, too,” Winston quipped. He turned back to Nicholas. “Two bathhouses, you say? Romans were remarkably clean in their habits, weren’t they?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The day of the wedding, a few white clouds scudded across a pale blue sky after an early morning shower. Nicholas called to see the Rector of St. James’s church again. They talked together, while bunches of white roses were carried inside and arranged in vases on the altar, with others attached by ribbons to the ends of the pews.
Later, he drove Lady Penelope and Jeremy to Piccadilly. He discovered he was nervous. He’d never suffered such an affliction before, even when speaking passionately about some cause in the House. The coach deposited them outside the church, where he assisted Lady Penelope over the pavement. The small building of red brick and Portland stone was plain, but inside, the lofty interior created by a barrel vault and Corinthian columns made it appear much grander. It could house two thousand people, he’d been told, but given such short notice, their guests wouldn’t come close to filling it.
The usher seated Lady Penelope in the front row with Jeremy, while Nicholas took his place standing beside Charles, who wore gray, and next to him, Dominic in blue.
Morning sunlight imbued the stained-glass windows behind the altar with vibrant color. Nicholas kneeled in prayer. He added a special prayer for Max, assuring him that Carrie would never want for anything as long as he lived.
When he rose, he thanked his good friends for being here on the most important day of his life. Charles gave a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and Dominic grinned. Like him, they both wore white carnations in their buttonholes. Nicholas eyed his, hoping the flower wouldn’t wilt. He smoothed the sleeves of his dark blue coat and fiddled with his neckcloth.
The rector came to have a few brief words with them while the guests filed inside. After he left them, Nicholas turned to survey the guests. He acknowledged, with a nod, the dignitaries and friends who shared a pew with Lord Liverpool, the prime minister. The Regent was not in attendance but had sent his congratulations along with a case of champagne from Brighton.
Jeremy waved Lady Penelope’s painted fan before her face. Concerned, Nicholas stepped over to inquire if the lady was ailing.
“Don’t fuss, Nicholas. The boy is doing splendidly,” she said in her inimitable fashion. “It is quite warm in the church.”
Chastened, Nicholas returned to his position. When he’d first met Jeremy, he mused, he’d thought him a subdued boy, and it heartened him to see this bright-eyed lad now so very different.
Nellie, dressed in pale green, offered him a warm smile as she sat beside Lady Penelope.
The soft murmur of conversation fell away as the organ music swelled, filling the church. Nicholas turned as Carrie entered, a vision in white satin, with a bouquet of pink roses, her concession to his foolish request for her to wear the color pink, perhaps. She advanced slowly down the aisle, her hand resting on Winston’s arm.
Nicholas swallowed the lump in his throat. A small white veil, sheer as gossamer, covered her hair. She wore pearls at her throat and ears. How lovely she was and how blessed was he. Although her beauty needed no adornment, she would wear the Pennington diamonds to the first ball they attended when they returned to London.
As the orchestra’s notes soared above the assembled guests, Carrie approached the altar. Behind her, Gwen, in rose-pink and then Bella in a paler hue, blushing and smiling as she measured her steps, a bouquet of white roses trembling in her hands.
Exquisite in her white gown, silver ribbons and lace, Carrie reached him, and with a misty smile, she stood beside him.
Winston bowed, stepped away, and joined Gwen in the front pew.
The rector cleared his throat and began.
The church grew hushed as the ceremony proceeded.
