Page 79 of A Widow for the Earl
“I now pronounce you man and wife, the Earl and Countess of Grayling,” the priest said, to the quiet sniffles and delighted smiles of the congregation.
Beatrice squeezed her husband’s hands, so overjoyed she thought she might burst.
“My love,” Vincent murmured, lifting her hand to his lips.
A few of the maids began to cheer, much to the chagrin of the two guests who had been placed among them, as far from the front as possible: Henry and Unity Johnson. The maids wereundeterred, their excitement infectious, beginning an adorably awkward round of applause throughout the church.
To that sweet sound, Beatrice and Vincent made their way back up the aisle and out into the pristine morning.
“You look beautiful,” Vincent said, helping her into the waiting carriage. “I doubt you have ever looked more beautiful, in truth, but I think the same thing every day.”
“Stop it,” she chided playfully. “You shall inflate my pride until I cannot fit into this carriage. Indeed, you had best save that thought for when you see me tomorrow morning. You might be more horrified than enamored.”
He shook his head. “Never.” He leaned in, stealing a kiss before the congregation emerged. “Why, I amverymuch looking forward to waking up with you tomorrow morning.”
“Vincent Wilds, what an uncouth tongue you are beginning to have,” she teased. “Everyone will think Iama terrible influence after all.”
He chuckled, getting in. “I shall not let them.”
As they sat together on the squabs, Vincent put his arm around her, pulling her close as he pressed a kiss to her hair. Both of them relishing the singular pleasure of just being together, knowing they were married, and nothing could tear them apart again.
But as the carriage began to move away from the church, taking them toward the celebrations that Julianna had prepared at Grayling, Vincent began a slightly gloomier topic.
“Frederick is to be hanged,” he said apologetically. “I did not want to tell you today, but my mother thought it would be a comfort rather than a burden. Either that, or she wanted me to tell you before you read of it in the papers.”
Beatrice peered up at him. “I have been avoiding the papers, as you well know.”
“They are very complimentary about you,” he told her, smiling. “Indeed, they are pretending as if they thought you were the innocent party all along. One paper said they knew someone so extraordinarily beautiful could not be a killer. Their nicknames for you have not changed, but their tone has. I would say that is a victory.”
She cast him a mock-withering gaze. “They didnotsay I was extraordinarily beautiful. You are trying to inflate my pride again.”
“Perhaps, I embellished with my own opinion,” he conceded, dipping his head to kiss her.
With that, there was nothing more to say for the duration of the journey back to Grayling House. They did not need words when they had the sweet enchantment of kisses, and time alone to indulge. Beatrice savored every moment, every graze of his lips,every light caress of his fingertips against her neck, her waist, her cheek.
By the time they arrived at what would be Beatrice’s new home, they were both rather breathless and a little pink. And they stood together on the porch steps, grinning at each other, as they waited to greet their guests for the wedding festivities. Indeed, it was plenty of time for their faces to cool and their breathing to even out, so no one would suspect they had kissed their way home.
“You are the most resplendent bride!” Teresa gushed, as she hurried forward from her carriage, dragging Cyrus.
He gave a small nod. “A lovely ceremony. Congratulations.”
Beatrice embraced Teresa, clinging to her for a moment, before the couple were ushered aside by the next well-wishers: Edmund and Isolde, Amelia and Lionel, Rebecca and her grandmother, Caroline; then Noah and Catherine, Anthony and Silas.
It was all going so well, until Beatrice looked upon the stony faces of her parents, approaching next.
“Daughter, what a happy day,” Henry said tightly. “And what a glorious manor.”
Unity gazed up at it, a flicker of something like envy in her eyes. “I would not have chosen a red gown, though.” She smiledat Beatrice, the expression cold. “Anyone would think you were trying to draw attention to yourself.”
Vincent bristled. “She looks beautiful, andIchose the color.”
“Besides, itismy wedding day,” Beatrice interjected, matching her mother’s cool tone. “Now, Henry, there is no need to call me ‘daughter.’ We are not anything to each other anymore. You need not pretend otherwise. Indeed, you do not even need to stay for the celebrations if that would be too much of an inconvenience.”
Unity heaved out a sigh. “Thank goodness. Yes, I think we will leave. We would not want to intrude.”
“But you are my daughter,” Henry insisted. “It would be strange if your parents were not in attendance at the wedding breakfast.”
Beatrice smiled. “I have no parents. You essentially said it yourself when you told me never to return. I am merely abiding by your wishes, so, please, do leave if you want.” She paused. “But I do hope you have a long and happy life together, as I intend to have with my beloved.”
