Page 65 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

After the shock had passed, and Uncle Alford learned that Brandon’s father was the esteemed Sir Richard Cartwright, a politician of some note, he accepted the inevitable, and before long, he and Brandon were on good terms, most particularly because Brandon proved to be well read and could speak knowledgeably on almost any subject.

“Didn’t you tell me you were sent down from Oxford?” Letty asked when they were alone. “You certainly managed to amass a considerable amount of knowledge before you left.”

“Most acquired after Oxford, I’m afraid. And now your uncle has kindly offered me several interesting tomes from his extensive library on Greek and Roman history,” he said with his teasing smile. “A panacea for those long, lonely nights.”

Fighting a grin, she shook her head at him.

After giving his permission to Brandon for their marriage, Uncle Alford had called her into his study. He’d told her to sit down and then cleared his throat. Letty expected some salutary advice and was surprised when he apologized. “Despite that unfortunate business with Arietta, which was your aunt’s doing, I see now that I was wrong in my reluctance to send you to London.” He shifted in his seat. “I feared after your father left you rather more than a comfortable competence, you would become the subject of fortune hunters. And as I couldn’t be there to protect you.” He cast her an anxious glance.

If he knew the whole of what happened in London and Kent, he might feel justified in his reticence. Letty smiled warmly at him. She didn’t like to see him uncomfortable when he’d been so good to her. It was natural for him to want her to marry Geoffrey and remain here in the village. “I can quite understand your fears, Uncle,” she said. “But ‘all’s well that ends well’, as Shakespeare wrote, is that not so?”

“Indeed.” Uncle Alford leaned back in his chair with an approving smile. Letty smiled back, pleased to have hit on her uncle’s favorite playwright to help ease his conscience.

Aunt Edith awaited her in her bedchamber.

“I am happy with your choice. Mr. Cartwright will take you to London. The countryside, as pleasant as it is, does become rather dull after a time. I quite intend to return to Town myself when I’m completely well again. And we shall see more of each other,” she said, with more warmth than Letty would have anticipated.

Her aunt’s eyes filled with tears, and she withdrew her handkerchief to blow her nose. “I did not have great expectations for you, not after poor Arietta passed and then, you and Geoffrey…well, let us say no more about that.” While Letty considered whether she would welcome a hug, her aunt tucked her handkerchief into her pocket and straightened her shoulders. “There are more important things to discuss, your wedding gown most particularly. Now, what about that lovely ball gown Mrs. Crotchet made for you? You’ve barely had a chance to wear it.”

Letty bit her lip on a gasp of dismay. “I’m sorry, Aunt, the skirt never hung properly after the hem was torn, so I gave it to Arietta’s maid.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She cast a suspicious glance at Letty as she fiddled with her lorgnette. “With the wedding Sunday next, we are short of time. Shall we go through your clothes and see if something can be altered?”

“I have a dress that requires no alteration,” Letty said hastily, visualizing another horrid gown stitched up to her neck. “One Lady Arietta chose for me.”

“A very nice thought, my dear. Wear it in memory of her.” Her aunt nodded approval in happy ignorance of the truth of Arietta’s death. When Uncle Alford had told his sister that Arietta had been struck down by a seizure, Letty was quite surprised at how comfortable he seemed with the lie. She supposed that some lies were necessary to spare others. She had told quite a few herself. “I shall wear your pearls, Aunt.”

Aunt Edith nodded, somewhat appeased.

After several days of rain, Sunday dawned fine. Aware that many in the village would turn out to witness their wedding, Letty fidgeted with nerves. Her friends were happy for her and considered it to be very romantic, but some older folk had been set on Geoffrey.

Geoffrey had accepted it all without a qualm. It made her wonder if he was relieved. It could not have made him happy to marry a hesitant bride. When Brandon and Geoffrey appeared to get on so well, riding together over the countryside, and partaking of ale at the inn, much of the gossip died away. After only a few days, Brandon was hailed in the street and greeted as if an old friend. Letty put it down to his open, friendly manner, because usually one had to live here for years before they were accepted into the community. She only hoped this was a sign the ceremony would go off without a hitch and be a special day for them to remember.

In the late morning, wearing her net and white satin gown with the pink sash, and carrying a poesy of blush-colored roses, Letty walked down the aisle on the arm of Jane’s husband, Gordon. Jane, in her best sprig muslin, with flowers in her red hair, had arranged Letty’s short veil which floated from a circlet of pink rosebuds, then walked ahead, taking her place at the side of the altar as Letty’s matron of honor. Every pew was filled, and m

ore crammed in to stand at the back of the church.

Handsome in a dark coat with silver buttons, Brandon turned to smile at her from the head of the altar. Geoffrey, causing a stir among the guests, stood beside him as his best man.

Gordon stepped away. Letty’s heart gave a skip when she reached Brandon’s side. She smiled into his loving blue eyes.

Her uncle cleared his throat and began. When he came to the words “Who giveth this woman,” he paused. “Well that would be me,” he said, displaying an unusual penchant for humor. Laughter broke out around the church, then silence fell as the ceremony progressed.

And then it was over, Brandon pressed a brief kiss on her lips, shook Geoffrey’s hand, and they left to sign the register.

A group of villagers hovering around the entrance tossed flower petals over them.

“Give her a proper kiss,” a man called.

Brandon obliged, as they all cheered.

Laughing and holding hands, she and Brandon walked to the church hall for the wedding breakfast.

In a chaise Brandon hired, they reached Royal Oak in Keswick by nightfall. He’d expressed the desire to spend some days exploring the beauty of the area and staying at wayward inns on route, before heading down to Surrey to visit his family. He had received a surprisingly conciliatory letter from his father, who had given up gracefully on his hopes for the colonel’s daughter, and an impassioned one from his mother, who expressed her eagerness to meet Letty. He looked forward to introducing her to them. They would love her as he did.

He and Letty were directed to a private parlor Brandon had engaged for supper. In the small cozy room, Letty untied the fetching cherry-red bow beneath her chin and pulled off her straw hat. Seated, he smiled at Letty across the table. “Happy, my sweet?”

“So very happy.” She cast him a loving glance, as a waiter entered with a tray, and the tasty aromas of hot soup, broiled chicken, and mushrooms, filled the air.

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