Chapter Eighteen

ZACHARY BENEDICT SAT in his sumptuous study at Benedict House and glanced once again at the ormolu clock. Still a half an hour to go.

Impatiently, he drummed his fingers on the desktop, and then tugged anxiously at his cravat. In thirty minutes, he would recite vows with Emma. Never in all his life had he imagined that he might one day marry a chambermaid from a traveler's inn, or that she might come complete with a child.

A smile turned his mouth upward. The fingers stopped their tapping to smooth themselves in a fluid motion over the dark wood of the desk.

But then, never had he imagined that one day he would meet a woman who would turn his life upside-down in the most amazing manner.

I am the luckiest of men , he thought.

Further thoughts upon the exact extent of his luck and happiness were interrupted by the arrival of Thurman.

Zachary stood quickly, uncaring if the old butler read anything into his anxiousness. But Thurman was not here to call for his presence out on the terrace yet, where the nuptials were to be performed. He nodded precisely at Zachary and handed him a sealed letter from his silver tray.

"Delivered just now from your solicitor, my lord," he intoned.

When Zach had accepted this, Thurman set down a wrapped item and note on his desk. Frowning, and wondering what business his solicitor was about today—the man knew Zach was to wed—Zach hastily opened one envelope, only to find another within.

He sat down again, the breath knocked out of him as he recognized the broad scrawl of his father upon this second envelope.

" To be opened upon the day of your wedding ," was written on this envelope.

Curiously, Zach unsealed the wax and took out a folded piece of vellum.

MY DEAR BOY,

Congratulations and felicitations!

When I first met her, I was captivated—not in the sense you are, but spellbound, nonetheless. Isn't there just something about her that begs a man to love her? Have you ever met a girl so completely genuine and true as her? I thought not. I knew my bequest would confound and confuse you. But I was quite sure it would lead to this. I knew she was perfect. And meant for you.

I wish you joy and happiness—I know she'll bring you this.

You can thank me when next you see me.

Until then,

Always Proud,

Father

Stunned, Zach re-read the letter twice.

The old man knew! My God, the old man knew . Zach gave a short bark of laughter, even as his eyes misted. He stood and gazed at the portrait of his father behind his desk, painted with such devotion by his mother .

"You old devil," he breathed in wonder. Apparently, neither fate nor serendipity played any role in he and Emma finding one another, just the over-ambitious and hopeful will of his father.

Now, upon discovering this, and rather than feeling as if he'd been hoodwinked into his coming marriage, he only laughed yet more. He felt not deceived or tricked; he felt blessed. Just as it didn't matter that Emma and he had different standings, or came from different backgrounds, it didn't matter how it came to be. Zach was only thankful that it had come to be.

And yes, he would thank the old man when next he saw him.

It was several moments before he recalled that his butler had delivered two items. He scanned the words, penned in his bride's pretty script, upon the second envelope, which was attached to a small and flat, neatly wrapped package.

To be opened after vows are said. I love you. E