Page 73 of A Fake Courtship with the Marquess
Cassie sniffed. “You’re eager to give me another wrinkle or two, Milady. Nothing perplexes me more than when you’re skating like that. I swear I can hear the ice cracking, every time.”
“You will have to join me, this time. I insist.” Arabella flashed a mischievous wink.
“I know you’ve the authority to order me, Milady, but there are some things I simply won’t do,” Cassie replied, with an equally mischievous smile.
Both women were in excellent spirits. After three lengthy months, waiting for the banns to be announced, the wedding day had finally come. To make it all the more exciting, Arabella had not seen Henry for a fortnight, as her mother had insisted on a brief separation. Arabella had not understood why, but now she did. Without it, she would not have felt nearly so eager to be married to the man she loved.
I wonder if he has been waiting as impatiently for this day…
They turned up a winding lane, passing the boundary line of Easholm Village—the closest village to the Bowles Estate. Peering out of her window, Arabella’s heart swelled as she saw the villagers lining the road, waving handkerchiefs and shouting out their well-wishes.
“I will be sorry to leave this part of England,” Arabella said, waving back to the people.
Cassie rested a gentle hand on her arm. “You can always return, Milady. Don’t forget, you’ve found yourself a wonderful husband who’d do anything to make you happy.” She sighed. “Goodness, how lucky you are. I’ll have to find a husband of my own, but you’ve set a high precedent for me, Milady.”
“What of Kinsale?” Arabella gave her friend a nudge.
“Unless His Lordship poaches him and takes him to Haskett Manor, I’m afraid it might be fruitless.”
Arabella chuckled. “Consider it done. It can be your gift, in return for bringing me to my senses.”
“I don’t need any gifts, Milady… though I won’t argue if Kinsale comes along with us,” Cassie replied, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink.
The seasons were not the only things that had changed in the last three months. While summer was still at its peak, Lord Powell had faced his judgment in court, and been sentenced to spend forty years in prison. He had sent a last letter to Arabella, trying to apologize, but it was all too little, too late.
Meanwhile, Henry had made good on his promise to David. The boy had taken a position on a cargo ship, and was likely out there on the open seas somewhere, thanking his lucky stars that he was not serving any sentence for the part he had played in the fire that night. Arabella thought of him often, and wanted to leave letters for him at London’s Docks. The trouble was, he could not read, and so she had refrained.
If we are to meet again, we will.
The Wright Estate was also faring remarkably well, considering the damage that had been wrought upon it. Reconstruction had begun on the scorched East Wing which had, according to Henry, delighted the Duchess. Apparently, she had always loathed the way it was built, and this gave her the opportunity to design it specifically to her liking.
“Lady Roisin is a delight, is she not?” Arabella needed to chatter, feeling more nervous as the church came into view.
Cassie nodded. “She’ll keep your brother on his toes, which is precisely what he needs. Both of you have ended up with people who bring out the best in you. There must have been something in the water this summer just gone.”
Seth had finally mustered the courage to inform his mother and father of his intentions to wed Lady Roisin. They had been outraged at first, but after news of Arabella’s brush with death had reached them, they had softened toward the idea. So much so that the first banns had not long been announced for the pair.
“We’re here,” Cassie murmured excitedly, as the carriage came to a halt.
Arabella took a breath. “You are quite certain I should not elope with the farmer’s son?”
“Goodness, no.” Cassie gave her a playful poke in the ribs. “You leave those farmer’s sons to me, Milady. You already have your handsome hero—you’ve got to leave some fantasy for the rest of us.”
Laughing, and feeling more at ease, Arabella waited for the footman, Kinsale, to open the carriage door. He offered his arm to help her out and did the same for Cassie, though he guided her much further forward than he had done for Arabella. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the bride, who beamed with pleasure.
At this rate, everyone I care for will be married by this time next year!
The only person who wouldnotbe getting married was Lady Olivia, for she had recently been caught in a scandal, and it did not seem likely that she would be able to weasel herself free of it.
Pausing at the church doors, Arabella allowed Cassie to fuss with her hair, and smooth out any creases in her flowing gown of summer marigold. That done, there was only one more thing to do—marry the man she adored with her entire being.
“You look beautiful, Darling.” Her father was waiting for her just inside the doors, before the second set that would take them into the church proper.
Arabella weaved her arm through his. “Thank you, Papa.”
“I told you this would be a fortuitous union, though it is a terrible shame you will not be residing at the Wright Estate for a while.” He tutted under his breath. “Such a glorious manor, so recklessly destroyed.”
“At least I survived the blaze, though,” she prompted.
