Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas(20)
Sir William lowered his hands. His expression was haggard, but his eyes showed relief at having revealed his long-held secret. "Perhaps… by then I'll be able to. I don't want to lose you, either." With a flash of familiar belligerence, he said, “But if you make my daughter miserable, Chandler, I'll make you rue the day you were born!"
Dominick wrapped a protective arm around Roxanne's shoulders. “If she's unhappy, it won't be for lack of trying on my part."
After a hard look, the baronet gave a small nod, then turned and left the clearing. With a sweep of his arm he collected the men, who had been watching in fascination. A few minutes later hoof beats sounded as the would-be rescue party rode away.
Dominick gave a long, exhausted sigh. "Life is stranger even than I imagined."
Roxanne glanced up, her fox-brown eyes grave but serene. "It's not really such a coincidence. When we met, you said you were looking for that ruined Roman villa because your father had told you about it when you were a child. That is what brought you to Maybourne Towers. Perhaps the villa is what brought him to Maybourne and that's how he met my mother."
He drew her close. "It was wickedly wrong for my father and your mother to elope. Yet . . . if he loved her as much as I love you, I can understand why he did it. From what your father just said, they were together until death did them part."
"And if my mother loved him as I love you, I know why she left everything she possessed, including me, to go with him," Roxanne said softly. "I do love you, you know. I don't believe I mentioned that last night."
"You didn't, but we'll have ample time to rectify the omission." A smile in his voice, he continued, "Shall I take you to paradise for our honeymoon?"
"I'd like to see your islands, my love, but there's no need to travel that far." She burrowed into his arms with a sigh of pure joy. "I’ve found paradise right here."
Finis
The Wedding of the Century
Chapter 1
Swindon Palace
Spring 1885
After two weeks of dizzying social activity in London, a visit to the English countryside was an enchanting change of pace. Nature had cooperated by blessing the garden party with flawless weather. Puffs of white cloud drifted through a deep blue sky, the grass and trees were impossibly green, and the famous Swindon gardens were in glorious flower.
Yet the grounds were not half so splendid as the guests, who were the cream of British society. All of the men were aristocratically handsome and all of the women graceful and exquisitely dressed. At least, that was how it seemed to Miss Sarah Katherine Vangelder, of the New York Vangelders. As she surveyed her surroundings, she gave a laugh of pure delight.
The woman beside her said, “Don’t look so rapturous, Sunny. It simply isn’t done.”
Sunny gave her godmother a teasing glance. “Is this the Katie Schmidt of San Francisco who scandalized English society by performing Comanche riding stunts in Hyde Park?”
A smile tugged at the older woman’s lips. “It most certainly is not,” she said in a voice that no longer held any trace of American accent. “I am now Katherine Schmidt Worthington, Countess of Westron, a very proper chaperon for her exceedingly well-brought-up young American goddaughter.”
“I thought that we American girls were admired for our freshness and directness.” A hint of dryness entered Sunny’s voice. “And our fortunes, of course.”
“The very best matches require impeccable manners as well as money, my dear. If you wish to become a duchess, you must be above reproach.”
Sunny sighed. “And if I don’t wish to become a duchess?”
“Your mother has spent twenty years grooming you to be worthy of the highest station,” Lady Westron replied. “It would be a pity to waste that.”
“Yes, Aunt Katie,” Sunny said meekly. “If I’m very, very impeccable, may I view the rest of the gardens later?”
“Yes, but not until you’ve met everyone worth meeting. Business before pleasure, my dear.” Katie began guiding her charge through the crowd, stopping and making occasional introductions.
Knowing that she was being judged, Sunny smiled and talked with the utmost propriety. She even managed not to look too excited, until she was introduced to the Honorable Paul Curzon.
Tall, blond and stunningly handsome, Curzon was enough to make any woman gape. After bowing over her hand, he said, “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Vangelder. Are you newly arrived in England?” His question was accompanied by a dazzling smile.
If it hadn’t been for her rigorous social training, Sunny would have gaped at him like a raw country girl. Instead, she managed to say lightly, “I’ve been in London for the last fortnight. Before that, we were traveling on the Continent.”
“If you’d like to visit the Houses of Parliament, Miss Vangelder, I’d be delighted to escort you. I’m a member.” Curzon gave a deprecatory shrug. “Only a backbencher, but I can show you what goes on behind the scenes and treat you to tea on the terrace. You might find it amusing.”
“Perhaps later in the season Miss Vangelder will have time,” Katie said as she deftly removed her charge.