Page 44 of How to Tempt An Earl
The vicar began the ceremony with the eternal words, ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…’
They were indeed gathered, family and friends. Kieran looked out at the guests assembled. His parents were in the front row with his grandfather, who had insisted on making the journey from Sussex—no small ordeal for a man of eighty-eight now, though Kieran had it on good authority that his father had put every comfort into the journey, with frequent stops at fine inns. The trip had taken a week and a half instead of five days, but that was what family did for one another.
Luce and Caine sat behind them, Mary with them. Mary had arrived last month and she had become instant friends with Celeste, the two of them having more in common than he’d have guessed. Only his sister, Guenevere, was missing. She was due any day with her first child and was spending Christmas with her husband’s family. She’d written a lengthy letter, though, instructing him on how to be a good husband, which had made him laugh even as he’d taken notes.
The vicar continued, ‘Through the gift of marriage, a man and woman may grow together in love and in trust…’
Kieran had heard these words before, they were standard wedding fare, but today, when he looked at his bride, they took on extra meaning. Today might be the first day of their lives as husband and wife but their life together had started that first day at St Luke’s, and it had been a journey of trust ever since. It was perhaps a journey that would never end for them. Trust would be pivotal. He had no illusions that life with a Horseman would be a normal life. He would require her trust in ways that transcended the usual marriage. And she would require his. Cabot Roan was recovering from his shoulder wound under strict guard in London, awaiting trial. But there would be other threats that would challenge them throughout their marriage.
‘Marriage is the foundation of family life into which children are born…’
Yes, God willing, Kieran thought. But all in good time. Once the Hall was restored, once he and Celeste found their feet as the Earl and Countess and as husband and wife. Caine and Luce had been generous with their time. They’d stayed on after the fire to help get things underway with rebuilding. They would stay for Christmas, which was just a few days away, and then the brothers would part again—Caine and Mary to ring in the New Year at Longstead with his people, and Luce back to his library in Surrey—until the next time the Horsemen were called.
Kieran said his vows, his eyes locked on his bride, intent that she see and hear each word as a solemn pledge to her, to them.
Please, God, he prayed silently.Give her no reason to doubt me. Let me serve her as she deserves to be served for the rest of her life.
He kissed his bride and the celebrations began in earnest. Mrs Hanson had been more than equal to the task of a wedding breakfast to which many of their new acquaintances in town were invited. There were toasts and kisses until the crowd slowly ebbed away, leaving the family to end the celebrations on a private note.
The Parkhursts gathered in the library, Luce’s eye already running over the collection of books, their grandfather in a big chair by the fire and commanding everyone’s attention.
‘There is a gift to give.’ He tapped on his glass of port and reached inside his coat for an envelope. ‘A few months ago, my grandson was named the Earl of Wrexham, the inheritor of an estate that was run down and going to seed. I did not know what to expect when I arrived. I was beyond proud to see what he and his fiancée—’ everyone laughed at the word ‘fiancée’, because in hindsight it had always been true ‘—had accomplished in such a short time. There is still a lot of work to be done, but Wrexham Hall is on its way, despite the best efforts of a fire to waylay that progress.
‘But progress takes funds and we all know the estates did not come with financial legacies.’ Dowries had been expected to fill in that gap, another incentive for them to marry if they meant to keep the estates.
Grandfather handed the envelope to Kieran and Celeste. ‘This contains a cheque that should cover the restoration expenses, and whatever you need to ensure the spring planting is handled in the best way possible.’
‘Grandfather, I don’t know what to say.’ Kieran was at an unusual loss for words. This was unlooked for—a miracle, really.
Celeste pressed his hand. ‘I do,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you, Grandfather. This relieves a great burden for us.’ She kissed the old man’s cheek.
His grandfather’s eyes twinkled suspiciously with tears at her kind gesture. ‘I know it does.’ He rubbed his hands on his trousers to cover the emotion. ‘Well, that’s one burden solved.’
His eyes fell on Luce. ‘Two grandsons down, one to go. Your turn next, young man. I can hardly wait to see what the New Year brings.’
‘I can’t wait either,’ Kieran whispered to his bride. ‘Why don’t we go upstairs and finish this wedding by ourselves? I think my family can manage on their own for a while.’ He flashed a quick glance at Caine, who interjected with a clearing of his throat.
‘Ahem, speaking of the New Year, Mary and I have something we’d like to share. We are expecting a happy addition…’
It was exactly the cover Kieran needed. Amid the ‘Ooh’s and ‘Aah’s, the hugs and excited questions from his parents, Kieran slipped upstairs with his bride and started working on a life of their own. He didn’t exactly believe in prayers but, if he had, he’d definitely have believed his had been answered.
Epilogue II
October, 1826
Ellen’s prayers had been answered. She’d prayed for a man and she’d been given one. In a most circuitous way, and not in the straightforward form one might expect, but they’d been answered, giving credence to the oft-heard platitude that God worked in mysterious ways and by His own divine timeline, which hadnotneatly aligned with hers. Still, at the last moment, the water had delivered her a man, just as a river long ago had delivered baby Moses to the Pharoah’s daughter.
Ellen set down her heavy market basket and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the brightness of the autumn afternoon. In the distance in the field, she could see him, her river man, scything the wheat, with his shirt off, his chest and back gleaming with the sweat of exertion. She told herself she stared for medical reasons. She wanted to be sure he wasn’t overworking. Just a month ago, he’d been abed, weak and helpless.
But the honest part of her knew she stared because she was a woman and he was a man—a handsome man—who lived in close proximity with her and about whom she knew very little and because pleasant surprises were rare in her world. Quakers eschewed luxury of all kinds, and surprises were a type of luxury. Plainness was preferred: plainness of dress, plainness of life, routine over upset.
Her brothers worked alongside him: twelve-year-old Philip and thirteen-year-old Andrew. She could hear their laughter faint on the breeze. Her man from the water was good with them. He treated them as if they were men, his equals. He did not condescend to them even as he kept them in line. Her brothers did have a rambunctious streak. He must have brothers of his own.
She didn’t know because he didn’t know. He didn’t know his family. He didn’t know his name. Had no idea how he’d come to be in the water or in possession of a knife wound on his arm. From the looks of things today, that wound had healed well enough for him to swing the scythe and she was grateful for it. She’d been concerned about her ability to bring in the harvest. She and her siblings couldn’t do it alone. She’d have lost the farm. The community would have asked her to relinquish it to a man who was more capable, or to take a husband—likely Francis Hartlett, a heavy-set, dour widower twice her age who’d been looking to join their lands since her father had died last year. She’d not been amenable to it, so she’d prayed for a man, someone to deliver her from that fate.
God had sent her the water man. Peter, they called him, because Jesus had fished Peter from the rocks and, whether this man knew it or not, he’d become their rock, their protection. For now… The Lord gaveth but inevitably the Lord also took away.
But not too soon, she hoped. Ellen picked up her market basket with a sigh and made her way towards her men in the field. There’d been a story in a London paper that had made its way to their isolated village which niggled at her. A story about an accident in Wapping…a dead man with a knife wound recovered and another man missing. There’d been no further details. The article had been careful not to speculate, or perhaps the author had been encouraged to keep the details out of the public eye.
