A Daring Liaison(71)
Too late for doubts now. He would erase them all tonight. When they were alone. He gave her a reassuring smile and was rewarded with her quick response.
Sarah brought Georgiana to his side and then stepped back beside her husband. He and Georgiana turned toward the minister, and the ceremony began. He held Georgiana’s gaze steadily and barely listened to the words. He did not need to. He’d have vowed anything to have this done with and Georgiana his forever. And Georgiana did not need to listen. She’d heard the words often enough.
He was so lost in her that Lockwood had to nudge him when the minister called for his consent. “I will,” he murmured.
A moment later Georgiana’s faint agreement followed his and they recited the vows after the minister—he in a clear, steady voice, and Georgiana in a soft whisper that seemed to caress him. When the minister asked for the ring, Charles slipped the gold band studded with diamonds and emeralds, which he’d purchased at Rundel and Bridge’s this morning, from his little finger and placed it on the minister’s prayer book to be passed back to him to slip on Georgiana’s finger.
Repeating after the minister, he gave his solemn vow, still surprised that he could mean every word when just a week ago he’d mistrusted her every word. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow...”
As they knelt for the prayers, Georgiana’s shoulder touched his and deep satisfaction spread through him. She was his wife. His. For as long as he lived. Even if that was only until tomorrow. The seductive scent of roses wafted up to him, and his next reflection was far from godly. The rest of the ceremony became a blur as he indulged in salacious thoughts that were sure to damn him to Hell.
Then it was done and, though it was not a part of the ceremony, Charles lifted Georgiana’s chin and planted a proprietary kiss on her lips. They turned to the family to find broad smiles and teary eyes. Lockwood and Andrew went with them to sign the clerk’s book and finish the business.
The sun was setting as they strolled across the lawns to the house. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Hunter,” Lockwood said.
Georgiana looked bewildered for a moment until she realized that she was the Mrs. Hunter to whom Lockwood referred. Then she sighed—a sound that spoke more of melancholy than of contentment. Was she wondering if she would be attending his funeral tomorrow? He squeezed her hand and she looked up at him. He gave her a reassuring wink and was rewarded with a smile that warmed her face. Charles vowed to give her all the reassurance she’d ever need tonight.
* * *
The moment they arrived home, Charles’s butler bowed and assumed an apologetic smile. “Lord Wycliffe and Sir Henry Richardson are waiting in the library, sir. They say it is urgent.”
“Thank you, Crosley.” Charles turned to her with a pained expression. “I may have neglected to mention that this was my wedding day. I apologize, Georgiana. I will see what they want and send them on their way. I shall be with you presently.”
Clara, who had been waiting for her arrival, took her arm to lead her up a curved central staircase. Every detail of the house spoke of good taste and elegance. She had not suspected that Charles’s home would be so charming.
“We’ve been unpacking all day, madam. Soon as we have everything set out, you’ll be quite at home. Your room is lovely. Why, it’s twice the size of your old one. And twice the room for your gowns and such.”
Georgiana followed her maid down a passageway to a door at the end. When Clara threw it open with a flourish, she blinked. Hers was a corner room, which would admit light in both the morning and evening. And it was, indeed, large. High ceilings, mahogany wainscoting and restful colors soothed her, and she dropped her reticule and shawl on a side table to explore. Deep Persian carpets padded her footsteps as she went forward. The dressing table was twice the size of hers and the bed was enormous. She noted that the headboard had been carved with intricate intertwined vines that spiraled up the posts to the green velvet canopy, and the mattress looked as soft as a cloud. It was the most beautiful bed she’d ever seen.
Clara went to a side door and threw it open. “And your dressing room adjoins Mr. Hunter’s. But look! That other door in between? ’Tis a bathing room.” She threw the door in question open and gestured proudly. “Have you ever seen such a thing, missus? A whole private room for bathing just for the mister and missus. And just look at that tub. Why, it’s big enough for two people. And there’s even a coal stove to keep the room warm and to heat the water.”