Page 47 of Let Me Be Your Hero
Archibald privately agreed, although not for the reasons his father had in mind—the connections they were forging by marrying the daughter of an influential family.
He would’ve wanted to marry Izzie if she were a dairymaid.
But he settled for saying, “Thank you, Father. I’m glad to have your approval.”
Across the room, his mother clapped her hands. “Shall we all head to the parlor where the ceremony is to take place?”
Archibald joined the procession and took his place at the front of the room. His only disappointment was that his grandfather had been asleep when he looked in on him a half-hour ago. He had been hoping that, if his grandfather was awake and feeling up to it, Archibald could carry him downstairs so he could be there for the ceremony. But it wasn’t meant to be.
Glancing around the room, he saw that his grandfather wasn’t the only person who was missing.
“Where is Izzie?” her twin sister Lucy asked, craning her neck to look around the room.
Archibald’s throat tightened. God, he hoped she hadn’t changed her mind again. He’d thought that they had worked through her concerns during their conversation that morning. What if she was having cold feet?
Just when he was starting to panic, Izzie appeared in the frame of the doorway. She looked heart-stoppingly beautiful in a gown of rich purple silk. “There you are! Oh, dear—did I keep everyone waiting?” She hurried over to Archibald, seizing his hands. “I just had to check one more time. And you’ll never believe it—he’s awake!”
Archibald’s mind was still reeling at the notion that in a few scant minutes, this gorgeous woman was going to marryhim. He shook his head, struggling to focus. “He’s awake… do you mean—”
Izzie squeezed his hands. “Your grandfather! If we hurry, he can see us wed.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Archibald saw his mother give a violent shudder. She sidled over to the writing desk in the corner, slid open a drawer, and pulled out some smelling salts.
Izzie did not seem to have noticed. Her eyes held nothing but excitement. “I’m afraid I had to introduce myself rather hastily. But he seemed to take the news that you were marrying some strange girl he’d never clapped eyes on in stride. I asked how he would feel about us invading his bedchamber so he could be present for the ceremony, and he said, ‘Go on, then.’”
The corner of Archibald’s mouth twisted up at Izzie’s impression of his grandfather’s east London accent.
His father, on the other hand, buried his face in his hands.
Izzie swept the room with her gaze, eyes entreating, until she found his mother. “You don’t mind, do you, Mrs. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy? I know you’ve gone to so much trouble to prepare these beautiful decorations. But if it means that Mr. Nettlethorpe will be able to watch Archibald wed…”
“Oh, er…” Archibald could tell his mother was casting about for an excuse that wouldn’t sound coldhearted.
“And that room will be lovely for the ceremony,” Izzie continued. “It’s in one of the corner towers, and it has stained-glass windows. It even feels like you’re in a chapel.”
“We wouldn’t want to tire him out,” Archibald’s father noted.
“To tire him out!” Archibald’s mother exclaimed. “That’s just it. It will be rather too much for him, don’t you think, Archie?”
A touch of worry came into Izzie’s blue eyes. “What would you like?”
Archibald found he didn’t need time to consider the question. His parents might be horrified, but Izzie didn’t seem put off by her brief introduction to his grandfather. And he couldn’t imagine marrying without one of the most important people in his life present.
He pressed Izzie’s hand. “Although it probably will tire him, I know Grandfather would wish to see me wed, regardless.” He brought Izzie’s knuckles to his lips, then dropped his voice low. “This means a great deal to me. Thank you.”
She beamed at him. “You’re very welcome.”
Archibald and Izzie led the procession to his grandfather’s tower room. His parents appeared to be on the verge of an apoplexy, but Lady Thetford helped him by looping one arm through his mother’s and the other through his father’s and distracting them with fawning compliments about their striking décor all the way up the stairs.
When he opened the door to the tower room, Archibald found that someone had propped his grandfather up on a stack of pillows and helped him slip a dressing gown over his nightshirt.
“This young lady informs me yer getting married today,” his grandfather said, East London accent on full display for the sundry dukes and earls streaming into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father cover his eyes, and his mother press the back of her wrist to her forehead.
“Yes, Grandfather,” Archibald said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Things happened rather quickly, and—”
He held up a hand. “That’s all right. Now, hurry up and marry yer gal before I nod off.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
