Page 66 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
“Sir, this is a very generous gift. I am very grateful. But we have spent the past year devoted to re-building a sound estate.” They had worked diligently to secure Southbourne’s financial status and this was a valuable property. “If you give this to me, we diminish that.”
His father brushed his objection aside. “Immaterial to the benefits you have restored to me and to the estate. You have done much for me, for us, Charlie. Not the least of which is restore my faith in good works and the future. And to be blunt, as for this house, I never put it to let, always questioning if you truly wanted a life in the clergy.”
“You never told me that.”
“I realized when you were a young chap that you accepted the idea of the Church, and I wondered if that were your obedience to me and your mother prevailing. When you joined the Army, albeit as a chaplain, I had more reason to question our role. I saw your reticence about your profession, your frustrations and your need to accomplish good on earth. Forgive me, but I sat back to watch you make your own choices. I was always proud of them. Proud of you. Now as you leave the clergy to work for the betterment of us all, I see you are truly happy. Called to this service.”
Humbled by his father’s words, he nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
The Duke indicated the deed. “Now you need a London residence, but for a purpose that frankly delights me more. With a new wife comes the need for a suitable home to grow into. This one will do very well. With it comes a monthly stipend and additional means to pay the four servants. I want you happy, Charles. Very happy.”
“I am honored, sir. You make my new life so easy to embrace.”
“Shall we go down then to the drawing room and allow you to officially embrace your bride?”
* * *
She stared out the window watching the bishop climb down from his barouche.
Sadness eroded her euphoria. Never had she thought she would marry without the presence of her parents. She had loved them without censure and naively expected the same from them. Perhaps in time, they might see their way clear. Especially her mother. Out of courtesy, Wills had written to them upon her arrival here to notify them of her wedding today. At the duke’s kind leave, she had invited both of them. But if they would not relent, she would go on without them.
She whirled away from the window to see Charlie standing on the threshold to the drawing room. He was the very essence of a noble gentleman in his dashing wedding finery, superfine wool frockcoat, elaborately tied cravat and bejeweled stick pin. His brilliant green gaze met hers and in silent communion, consoled her. Then at once he was across the room with her in his arms.
“My darling,” he said as he lifted her chin to his sweet regard. “Do you wish us to do this today? Here? The letter you sent two days ago should have arrived yesterday. We can wait as we might still we have a response from your mother and father.”
She settled her arms about his waist and admired the caring man who was soon to be her husband. “No. They may take their time to come to terms with our marriage or not. I will not allow them to interfere in my life. They had that chance and did not use it well. It is you I love. You, I want. You, I will marry today.”
His eyes sparkled with tears. “You, I will have to cherish today and every day henceforth. I promise to be your rock, your foundation, your respectful helpmate all the days of my life. I love you, Willa. I always will.”
“I know. Never have I met anyone whom I can trust more. And I promise to be your friend, your comfort, your hope and your joy for the rest of my life.”
“My wife,” he whispered. “I adore you.” And then he kissed her with all the delicacy of a groom and the passion of a lover.
“Ahem.” A gruff sound came from the doorway.
Laughing, Charlie hugged her. “The bishop is here. And I am eager to have our vows done and leave for the cottage.”
“Let’s say those words quickly, sir. I want to see if this honeymoon cottage is all you have promised.” With a wink at her soon-to-be husband, she turned to greet the bishop.
The man was welcoming and gleeful to see Charlie married. He had brought his book. but claimed he needed it not. As the servants bustled about and assembled in rows befitting their stations, the duke came in his wheeled chair and greeted the clergyman. “Happy occasion, this is, sir.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
A commotion began in the lower hall. Someone—a man—was yelling for a footman and stomping about in the foyer.
In alarm, Wills looked up at Charlie.
At once his expression fell, then turned to anger. He squeezed her hand. “My brother. Pardon me, my darling. I will go.” He met the gaze of his father and nodded. Then, with a hand raised to the butler or any of the footmen who stepped toward the door, he stayed them. “I will do this.”
In a minute, shouts rose up the staircase.
The duke narrowed his gaze upon the ceiling.
The bishop scowled at the profanity.
The staff shifted foot to foot.
Wills waited in fear of what havoc Oliver might cause.
