august, and besides, my father is getting on in years,” he continued. “He has spoken to me on several occasions about his desire to see the future of our line secured.”
Lord Denbury’s angry expression changed at the mention of Lord Lockwood. “Yes . . . I know your father well. A solid man. His friends miss him in London. You should tell him so.”
“Thank you, sir. I will,” Beau murmured, lowering his gaze.
Lord Denbury looked askance at Carissa, studying her for a second. “Is this match amenable to you, as well? Despite his reputation?” he added dryly.
She kept her head down with a meek air that Beau found surprising. “It is, my lord,” she answered.
He began to nod. “Very well, Beauchamp. If you are a true son to Lockwood, I cannot withhold my consent. Especially under these rather dubious circumstances. I daresay the two of you make quite a pair.”
“Thank you, sir,” Beau replied, flashing a smile and ignoring the fact that it probably wasn’t a compliment.
C arissa watched the two men congratulate each other over a handshake and a glass of port, and with that, her fate was sealed.
And so it began.
The wedding preparations, starting with the marriage license.
The few days it took for the Archbishop of Canterbury to issue the special license so they could marry quickly brought on a whirlwind of activity, both parties scrambling to arrange all for the impending union.
Uncle Denbury was put in charge of the venue, while his wife took charge of the flowers, the music, and the cake. Beau went hunting for a ring and ordered his domestic staff to make everything ready for the arrival of the new lady of the house.
Carissa, meanwhile, fled to her favorite modiste’s shop, where she begged to see whatever formal gowns the famed seamstress might have on offer, anything that could be made ready within a few days. Haste was necessary to try to stay ahead of Society gossip. They wanted the marriage to be a fait accompli before the ton started asking questions.
The savvy woman proved her savior, emerging from her sewing room in the back of the shop with an almost finished satin ball gown. It was a luscious creation in a very delicate pale pink, barely a blush tone, soft enough not to clash with her red hair.
Given the occasion, the modiste suggested adding white lace trim with seed pearls. Carissa eagerly assented, then sought out the rest of her ensemble. Her gloves and kid slippers would be white; her chemise would be the finest linen, and underneath that—as she supposed her bridegroom would discover on their wedding night—white silk stockings held up by rose-ribbon garters.
Giving the seamstress all of two days to complete the alterations, Carissa then turned her attention to the task of moving out of her uncle’s house.
It took the remaining two days to pack and organize all her clothes and books and possessions, even with the help of several maids.
Her cousins watched all this with little comment. They seemed oddly subdued about her leaving. Having complained about her since the day she had arrived, no doubt they’d be glad to be rid of her, she thought. But seeing their slightly elder cousin truly going off to start a new life with a husband, it appeared to sink into the girls’ minds that they would soon be doing the same in the normal course of affairs. They became strangely clingy to their mother, and Aunt Denbury must have been thinking the same things, because she did not question it but drew the girls to her bosom for frequent hugs and occasional kisses on their foreheads.
Carissa refrained from comment. She wondered what her own mother would have said about her future husband. Of course, she had been a toddler the last time she had seen Mama alive. She shrugged off painful memories and focused on the task at hand, organizing a second trunkful of her personal effects.
She did not wish to seem ungrateful, but in truth, it would be a relief to escape her uncle’s house.
Lord Denbury’s angry expression changed at the mention of Lord Lockwood. “Yes . . . I know your father well. A solid man. His friends miss him in London. You should tell him so.”
“Thank you, sir. I will,” Beau murmured, lowering his gaze.
Lord Denbury looked askance at Carissa, studying her for a second. “Is this match amenable to you, as well? Despite his reputation?” he added dryly.
She kept her head down with a meek air that Beau found surprising. “It is, my lord,” she answered.
He began to nod. “Very well, Beauchamp. If you are a true son to Lockwood, I cannot withhold my consent. Especially under these rather dubious circumstances. I daresay the two of you make quite a pair.”
“Thank you, sir,” Beau replied, flashing a smile and ignoring the fact that it probably wasn’t a compliment.
C arissa watched the two men congratulate each other over a handshake and a glass of port, and with that, her fate was sealed.
And so it began.
The wedding preparations, starting with the marriage license.
The few days it took for the Archbishop of Canterbury to issue the special license so they could marry quickly brought on a whirlwind of activity, both parties scrambling to arrange all for the impending union.
Uncle Denbury was put in charge of the venue, while his wife took charge of the flowers, the music, and the cake. Beau went hunting for a ring and ordered his domestic staff to make everything ready for the arrival of the new lady of the house.
Carissa, meanwhile, fled to her favorite modiste’s shop, where she begged to see whatever formal gowns the famed seamstress might have on offer, anything that could be made ready within a few days. Haste was necessary to try to stay ahead of Society gossip. They wanted the marriage to be a fait accompli before the ton started asking questions.
The savvy woman proved her savior, emerging from her sewing room in the back of the shop with an almost finished satin ball gown. It was a luscious creation in a very delicate pale pink, barely a blush tone, soft enough not to clash with her red hair.
Given the occasion, the modiste suggested adding white lace trim with seed pearls. Carissa eagerly assented, then sought out the rest of her ensemble. Her gloves and kid slippers would be white; her chemise would be the finest linen, and underneath that—as she supposed her bridegroom would discover on their wedding night—white silk stockings held up by rose-ribbon garters.
Giving the seamstress all of two days to complete the alterations, Carissa then turned her attention to the task of moving out of her uncle’s house.
It took the remaining two days to pack and organize all her clothes and books and possessions, even with the help of several maids.
Her cousins watched all this with little comment. They seemed oddly subdued about her leaving. Having complained about her since the day she had arrived, no doubt they’d be glad to be rid of her, she thought. But seeing their slightly elder cousin truly going off to start a new life with a husband, it appeared to sink into the girls’ minds that they would soon be doing the same in the normal course of affairs. They became strangely clingy to their mother, and Aunt Denbury must have been thinking the same things, because she did not question it but drew the girls to her bosom for frequent hugs and occasional kisses on their foreheads.
Carissa refrained from comment. She wondered what her own mother would have said about her future husband. Of course, she had been a toddler the last time she had seen Mama alive. She shrugged off painful memories and focused on the task at hand, organizing a second trunkful of her personal effects.
She did not wish to seem ungrateful, but in truth, it would be a relief to escape her uncle’s house.
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