Page 18 of Lady Beast's Bridegroom
“A gift from me to you, to wear in your hair today,” she told them.
Nancy returned as Clara was tying Rose’s ribbon and Miss Pettigrew Viv’s. “Lord Ransome has arrived, my lady, and is changing for the wedding. He will be fifteen minutes, Mr. Barlowe says. Mr. Richards and the vicar are in the parlor, and Mr. Barlowe is having refreshments served. Lord Ransome’s friend is expected shortly.”
“Thank you, Nancy. Will you finish my hair, please? Then you can help me with my mask, and we can go down.”
Nancy held out a flat leather-bound box. “My lord asks that you wear these, my lady. They were his mother’s.”
Arial took and opened the box, a lump coming into her throat. The best she had expected from this marriage of convenience was politeness and tolerance. Instead, she had two new sisters and now this. His mother’s jewelry. Even when he’d proclaimed that he wanted more than a mere civil arrangement, she had not expected the total acceptance that this implied.
She was stepping into his mother’s place as Viscountess Ransome, and—was it too much to assume?—as mother of the next viscount. That is what these pretty pearl and diamond adornments said to her. “Look how well this goes with your mask,” she told the girls, showing them the set.
“Right, then, my lady,” said Nancy, briskly. “We’ll have to rearrange the hair a little to fit the tiara.”
Miss Pettigrew suggested leaving, but Arial insisted she wanted her sisters to stay with her and walk down with her when she was ready. It took only a few minutes to fix the tiara into her hair, and to put on the necklace, wrapped three times around her neck and fastened with the brooch so that a loop dropped towards the cleft between her breasts.
Arial touched the earrings in their box. “How will I wear these? My lobes are not pierced.”
“I have an idea, my lady.” Nancy found a couple of slender ribbons and threaded an earring on to one before using it to tie around the ear on Arial’s good side. A pale peach, the ribbon was near invisible against her skin.
“We’ll do the other and the mask behind the dressing screen,” Arial decided, and led the way. When she stepped out, Nancy beaming behind her, the delight in the gazes of the two girls was heartening. Clara wiped away a tear, as she said, “My dear, you are so beautiful.”
“You look like a fairy princess,” Viv asserted.
Arial reserved judgement. She had always thought fairies to be frail little creatures, and no one had ever thought her frail, even before the fire. But when she stepped in front of the mirror, she had to concede there was much to be said for Viv’s opinion. It was the gown, of course, and the jewels, and the mask. But she truly did present a gratifying appearance for her wedding. Two impossible things. She’d never thought to have a wedding. She’dnever thought to know how it felt to see admiration in the eyes of others.
Would Peter, too, be pleased with how she looked?
“Let us go down,” she said.
*
Arial ran anefficient household. They had had water steaming and ready when Peter arrived, and the butler set two footmen to filling the bath in his room with a swift word, before showing Mr. Richards and vicar into the drawing room, where he promised refreshments would be served.
Peter made quick work of his bath and went looking for his sisters as soon as he was dressed, keen to make sure they were still at ease with his decision to marry. He had just missed them, the maid who was tidying their room told him. They had gone to help Lady Arial dress for her wedding and would come downstairs when she did.
Peter suppressed a wince as he remembered the ill-fitting and worn dresses that were all they had with them. He had assumed they would not want to be seen by those outside of the household before he could arrange decent clothing for them both. Still, the vicar seemed like a nice fellow and John could be trusted to be kind.
Some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face, for the maid added, “Miss Tulloch and Miss Pettigrew took the young ladies shopping, my lord. It’s little princesses they are, the pair of them.”
The slight pinch to Peter’s pride that he had not thought of his sisters’ deplorable wardrobe and that the lack had been filled by his soon-to-be wife was swamped by warmth at Arial’s care for them. “Your mistress is a wonderful lady,” he told the maid.
“That she is, my lord.” The maid bit her upper lip, then gave a sharp nod of decision before adding. “You will be good to her, Lord Ransome, will you not? I am speaking out of place, but we love her, you see?” She lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushed, standing before him as if waiting for judgement.
“She is an easy person to love,” Peter commented. “I remember that about her from when we were children, and everything I have learned in the past day has confirmed that she has grown into a wonderful woman. You can tell the other servants that I shall try to be the husband she deserves.”
The smile the maid gave him transformed her tired, middle-aged face. “I will, my lord. And bless you every day for it.”
Peter went down to the parlor to join Richards and the vicar, a warmth in his heart and a smile on his face. But the smile faded when a knock on the door heralded John’s arrival.
His friend had arrived with his betrothed and her mother.
The two Weatherall women ignored the butler even as they gave him their cloaks. They were too busy cataloguing all the details of the entry hall to notice a mere servant, or even Peter himself. This gave John time to make his apologies. “I hope it is all right that I brought Belinda and her mother. I know you said it was a small private ceremony, but I had promised to escort them this evening, and they insisted on coming with me in order to save time, since the ball we are attending is in this direction.”
Mrs. Weatherall overheard. “Why should it not be all right? Lord Ransome is not ashamed of his bride, I trust.”
Miss Weatherall’s whisper was clearly audible. “I daresay he might have reason, but we must not comment. It would be rude.”
John winced.
