Page 101 of A Symphony for the Earl

When he turned, Gerald Rafferty’s eyes were alight with laughter. “God knows I can’t have a bloody, dicked-in-the-nob Englishman dogging my every step. I mean to travel and see the world now that I have the means.” He thrust out his hand.

Dazed with relief, Richard stood and grasped it strongly. “I can promise you, Mr. Rafferty, I’ll give Fiona a lifetime of happiness.”

“You do that, Lord Seldon, and Fiona Kathleen will be as fine a wife for you as her mother was to me. For God’s sake, where is our host? This calls for another bottle. Mind you—don’t interfere with her piano. Music is life’s breath to my girl.”

“I can’t live without music in my life any more than I can live without Fiona. She has an extraordinary talent that deserves nurturing and recognition.”

“Well said.” Gerald Rafferty pulled out a linen handkerchief and dabbed his eyes. “Great God in heaven, my little girl is getting married—and to the Earl of Seldon, by all that’s mighty. Make no mistake, she will lead you on a wild dance, my lord.”

He smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

A Marriage Takes Place

On April fourteenth, in the year of our Lord, 1818, the wedding of Richard Merrick, ninth Earl of Seldon, and Miss Fiona Rafferty took place at St. James’s Church, Piccadilly, London. The church was filled to capacity and onlookers crowded the fence, anxious to catch a glimpse of the celebrated couple.

Lady Amelia’s guest list had grown exponentially and when Richard led his bride from the altar, he was astounded at the sheer number of people in attendance. It seemed that everyone in London was in the church. Any hope of returning to Oxford Street with a modicum of fuss would be impossible.

A shower of rice and scattered flowers landed on Richard’s silver-embroidered waistcoat and black-clad shoulders as they exited the church. He turned his body to shield his wife. She was radiant. He paused on the top step of the curving stone stairway—the crowd be damned—and tipped up Fiona’s chin to press a lingering kiss to her lips. A cheer rose from the people surrounding the venerable church.

“You are the loveliest woman in London, gra mo chroí,” he murmured against her ear. “I’m afraid that we have to face this gauntlet of a reception line before an escape is possible. Are you up to it?”

She nodded, laughing. “Ride to the first fence and I’ll follow, my lord.”

More crowds lined the street outside the church. Richard supposed that the marriage of a peer was an event of note to the general public. Especially a slightly scandalous one involving a common-born Irish émigré, and her father, recently risen from the dead.

Richard removed his top hat and tucked Fiona’s arm into his, looking out over their guests.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present my bride, the Countess of Seldon.”

Congratulatory shouts and applause, more rice and stems of flowers greeted this announcement, and the throng of well-wishers finally parted to allow the couple passage to their conveyance. Richard noticed Gerald Rafferty at the forefront of the crowd. His swarthy face shone with pride as he tipped his hat and blew a kiss to his daughter.

She was stunning in Madame Brigitte’s wedding dress, an empire-waisted gown of ivory satin. He was sure Madame and her staff had worked night and day to finish in time, given the short notice and the spectacular gown. The overlying bodice, sleeves, and outer skirt were fashioned of delicate Limoges lace stitched with hummingbirds and bell-shaped flowers. Richard’s ruby necklace sparkled on her neck. Tiny pearls lavished the five-foot lace train, and also a very fetching silk bonnet whose high brim featured pale-pink peonies and fragrant white roses. The bouquet was a simple arrangement of the same blooms with fresh lavender.

Next to Gerald Rafferty, Denys Spencer escorted Richard’s family. Lady Amelia was overcome with tears, as expected, while Valentina and Denys had eyes only for each other. Also expected. The fox terrier puppy by Octavia’s side gamboled at her feet, chewing on her pink slippers. She had begged to bring it with her and he hadn’t the heart to refuse.

It had taken him nearly four hours to dress for the ceremony, and he had driven John to distraction with his attention to the smallest detail. The valet watched helplessly as his lordship threw aside an unprecedented number of ruined cravats, asked to replace a shirt that he deemed wrinkled, and questioned the shine of his patent shoes. Shaving also proved a laborious enterprise, undertaken while Richard lingered in the bathing tub for an alarming amount of time.

In the end, he gazed critically in the mirror at the exquisitely cut black wool coat, snowy-white cravat complete with a ruby-and-diamond stickpin, intricately embroidered waistcoat, and buff breeches, deeming his appearance satisfactory.

Now the ritual was over, completed in a fraction of the time it took both parties to dress. Fiona bore the long ceremony and hordes of people with admirable poise. Afterward, she gracefully accepted the compliments and congratulations of the people lining the flagstone path well past the iron gates and those spilling onto the street, patiently pausing to inquire about someone’s well-being or thank them for an especially extravagant gift.

Richard, on the other hand, was very close to telling everyone to leave and go to the devil. He chafed to be alone with his new bride and lay claim to the joy that threatened to overflow his heart. He wavered deliciously at what to suggest first when safely locked in his apartments at Merrick House—more sex or an intimate performance of music. Or perhaps some combination of the two.

Spectators surrounded the waiting Merrick carriage. It took Richard and Fiona an interminable amount of time to reach the vehicle, which was festooned with wreaths of roses and peonies. The team of gleaming bay horses bore garlands of the same decorations around their necks, and their black tails and manes were braided gaily with white ribbon. Tall white ostrich feathers ornamented the tops of the black leather bridles.

Jerome waited by the horses, dressed in formal black, but sporting a shockingly vibrant waistcoat with vermilion stripes. He helped the couple into the vehicle with much ceremony and took his place next to the reinsman in front, requesting that people step aside in stentorian fashion.

“Make way for the Earl and Countess of Seldon, if you please. Make way, gents and ladies so the carriage can move forward.” As the crowd moved aside, he doffed his top hat. “The earl and Her Ladyship thank’ee for your kind attendance, most sincerely.”

Inside, Richard rapped sharply on the ceiling and removed his hat. “The next thing we know, Jerome will be giving a speech to the masses,” he murmured. “Are you utterly exhausted, my love?”

She gazed at him with so much emotion that Richard’s stomach flipped a somersault.

“I can hardly believe I am your wife, mo mhuirnín. If this is all a dream, please don’t wake me.” Fiona threw her arms around his neck, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to Richard’s cheek.

“Take off that very attractive bonnet, so I can kiss you properly and I will prove it is very real.”