Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

T hree hours later, Archibald stood in the foyer, helping his parents greet their guests. As threatened, Bastian had been by earlier and had insisted upon giving Archibald’s hair a fresh trim before wedging him into a skintight coat of dark blue superfine, along with a cream waistcoat and breeches.

The clerk from Rundell and Bridge had arrived as Bastian was finishing up with him, which was probably for the best. Archibald didn’t know much about jewelry, and so Bastian had helped him select a ring. In spite of his grumbling, Jack had done an excellent job, even borrowing one of Izzie’s rings from her lady’s maid so that every ring the clerk had brought over was sized perfectly for her hand.

Coincidentally, the ring Bastian had insisted Izzie would like best was the one Archibald had been drawn to from the start.

“The Duke and Duchess of Trevissick,” Giddings announced, recalling Archibald to the foyer. “Lady Griselda Saxe-Mecklenburg, and Lady Diana Latimer.”

Archibald hurried over and bowed over Ceci’s hand, whispering, “Should my parents ask, strong floral scents give you headaches.”

Comprehension flared in her eyes, which was unsurprising. They were friends, so she knew what his parents were like. Plus, the smell of the two remaining vases of gardenias was discernable even from three rooms away. “They absolutely do, and how thoughtful of you to have remembered it,” Ceci replied.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

She squeezed his arm and leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I am so happy for you.”

Archibald gave her a sheepish smile. Ceci had picked up on his infatuation with Izzie after she caught him staring at her at a ball. It had been an embarrassing turn of events, especially as Archibald had ostensibly been courting Ceci at the time.

“Thank you. I’m happy for you, too,” he said, nodding toward Ceci’s new husband, the duke, who was speaking to Izzie’s brother, Edward.

Ceci’s brown eyes sparkled as she said, “I think everything has worked out for the best.”

Archibald nodded, and Ceci drifted off to join her husband. The Trevissick party was the final group to arrive, so Archibald went over to instruct one of his men to lock the door and admit no one without consulting him first.

He glanced around the foyer. His mother was beside herself with glee as she welcomed the Duke and Duchess of Trevissick into her home. Lord and Lady Thetford were laughingly admiring the Arse of Anubis, which was apropos, as they had been the ones to saddle him with it.

Perhaps he would give it back to them. It would make a lovely Christmas present.

Archibald’s father crept up behind him. “This is the best thing you’ve ever done, Archie.”

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 marry him . 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.”

The vicar had positioned himself beneath the stained-glass window. Izzie tugged his hand, leading him into their positions. The dappled light sparkling through the stained glass fell on her face, and suddenly, the moment was overwhelming. He was marrying the woman of his dreams, and not only that, she had made the extra effort to make sure his grandfather could witness the ceremony. She didn’t seem the least bit put off by his grandfather’s humble accent. Much to the contrary, she seemed delighted that John Nettlethorpe was present.

It gave him a faint, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe , she could love someone like him.

How Archibald got through his vows without his voice quavering, he would never know. But it was no great sacrifice for him to promise to love and cherish Isabella Astley, ’til death did they part. He would love and cherish her for the rest of his life regardless of whether they were man and wife, so he was merely speaking the truth.

Then it was time for him to give her the ring he had selected that morning. It was a simple design—a heart-shaped ruby with a tiny diamond flanking it on either side, set in a plain gold band. It was an antique, which was unsurprising, as heart-shaped stones had been more fashionable for wedding rings during the previous two centuries than this one. His parents had despaired when he showed them his choice because the gem was neither large nor particularly costly. But from the second he saw it, Archibald could picture the delicate ring on Izzie’s slim finger. He had a feeling she would like it, an opinion both Bastian and Jack had seconded.

Judging by the tremulous smile she gave him after he slipped it on her finger, he had chosen well. He said nothing as he completed the ancient ritual, but if he’d had the courage to tell her the truth, he would have said, “ You already have my heart, so all I can give you is this .”

Then it was done, and, in an inconceivable turn of events, Isabella Astley was his wife.

No . Make that Isabella Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy.

They left his grandfather to rest and repaired to the dining room, where a wedding breakfast had been laid out. His parents had been in rare form, even for them, when selecting the menu. It was a good thing they would have four dozen men from Nettlethorpe Iron watching the house around the clock because otherwise, Archibald had no idea what they would have done with all the leftovers. They started with turtle soup and moved on to caviar, lobster, and veal in truffle sauce. There was saffron rice and asparagus dressed with lemon. Archibald wasn’t sure that the flavors went well together, but the foods were united by a common theme—they were all very, very expensive, so no one missed the fact that the Nettlethorpe-Ogilvys could afford them.

As the third course was being laid out, Izzie leaned close and whispered, “Do we have to stay for all of this?”

“I believe so, as we are the guests of honor,” he returned in a hushed voice. “Why do you ask?”

She heaved a petulant sigh. “I was hoping we could go upstairs and consummate the marriage.”

Archibald’s cock twitched eagerly at this suggestion. “Although I would like that above all things, I think we have to stay. Soon , though.”

Archibald’s hopes that the meal would conclude quickly proved fruitless, unlike the dessert course, which was finally brought out an hour and a half later. Its theme seemed to be pineapple . After sampling a spread of pineapple cakes, pineapple ices, and pineapple tarts, the interminable breakfast finally concluded.

Finally, the time came to move to the foyer to see their guests off. Izzie was chatting with her sister, Lucy, and her friend, Diana Latimer.

“Thorpe is going to build me my own library. It’s going to have floor-to-ceiling bookcases!”

While Lady Lucy and Lady Diana were busy squealing over the prospect of floor-to-ceiling bookcases, his friend, Morsley, sidled over. “Are you going by Thorpe now?”

Archibald considered his response. “Izzie thought it up the other day. I do like it. We’ll see if it catches on.”

“It’s just that”—Morsley dropped his voice low, so the ladies wouldn’t overhear—“it’s actually quite a mouthful to say, ‘Damn it, Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy.’ Especially when you’ve just punched me in the jaw.”

The corner of Archibald’s mouth twitched. “Feel free to use it, then, because I plan on landing quite a few blows to your jaw.”

“We’ll see about that, Thorpe.”

The Duke of Trevissick, who had just approached, scowled. “What’s this? Why was I not informed that I had the option of calling you Thorpe?”

“I only started using it recently.” Recently , in this case, meaning thirty seconds ago. “Why do you ask?”

The duke curled his nose. “I have probably devoted days of my life to pronouncing the extraneous number of syllables in your last name. Thorpe is a thousand times better.”

“I am sorry to have wasted so much of your time,” Archibald muttered.

“Yes, well.” The duke pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and offered it to Archibald. “I received this report from the Bow Street Runner I hired to look into the incident in Hyde Park. I imagine you will be interested in its contents, seeing as—”

Diana Latimer came up and elbowed her brother in the ribs. “Seeing as you were wrong , and the target of the attack was Izzie and not me. As someone tried to tell you,” she added, glowering up at the duke.

Trevissick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Once again, I am sorry. I will admit a tendency to be overly vigilant where you are concerned. Now that our father is dead, I am trying to change my ways, but it will not happen overnight.”

The duke was referring to the fact that their father, who was recently deceased, had been physically abusive toward his wife and daughter, a matter which had become public knowledge when the present duke was called to testify at a recent trial involving the family’s long-serving butler.

Diana was not in a forgiving mood. “Well, you need to try harder. You were the one who convinced Lady Cheltenham that I was the true target, and that is the reason Izzie was at Lady Waldegrave’s rout. If you hadn’t bowled over the rest of us, as you always do, Lady Cheltenham would have heeded Aunt Griselda’s warning and kept Izzie safe at home.”

“At home, where she was an easy mark,” the duke countered. “As it was, she was in the company of Thorpe, here, when the kidnappers struck. Which proved the best place she could have possibly been.”

“That was a lucky coincidence,” Diana countered.

While the siblings bickered, Archibald unfolded the papers, eager to see if the Runner had discovered anything of import. He started scanning the first of three pages.

“I can save you some time,” the duke said. “There’s not much of note in there. Our footmen were found bound and gagged. One of them sustained a blow to the head, from which he is recovering. They were both taken from behind unawares and didn’t have any material information about the men who attacked them. The report that will be of real interest will be the one regarding Lady Waldegrave’s rout, as they were able to detain those four men.”

“Did your Runner give any hint as to what that report will contain?” Archibald asked.

The duke shook his head. “When this was delivered, they had not yet been able to question them. It seems that all four of them sustained particularly nasty concussions.”

Archibald couldn’t say it in front of Lady Diana, but he shot the duke a look that said, damn right, they did .

The duke smirked. “We will be staying in town for a few weeks to purchase Cecilia a wardrobe befitting her new station as a duchess. I understand that Lady Isabella will not be able to move about freely until the issue with her attackers has been resolved. But perhaps Diana could call upon her here.”

“Oh!” Diana brightened. “I would like that. Could I come tomorrow?”

Archibald was spared from having to answer this awkward question by the duke. “ No .”

“But Marcus—”

“Thorpe will let us know when he and his wife are receiving visitors,” the duke said firmly, shooting Archibald a lurid look.

“I know Izzie would like to see you.” Archibald could feel his ears reddening. “We will send you a note just as soon as she is, er, settled in.”

Comprehension flared in Lady Diana’s pale blue eyes. “I would appreciate that,” she said in a clipped voice before excusing herself.

Their guests were starting to leave. Archibald positioned himself next to Izzie, shaking hands, accepting well wishes, and trying not to cringe as his parents foisted urns of gardenias on each departing guest. The Astleys accepted this unusual offering with good grace, even the bachelor brother, Harrington, who said he would take his down to the barracks of his new regiment. “Trust me,” he said solemnly, “could you but get a whiff of the men of the 95 th Rifles, you would understand how badly I need these.”

Finally, the only guests left were Lady Cheltenham and Lady Lucy, who was openly crying.

Izzie pulled her twin into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy gasped. “I’ve always known this day would come. That one of us would eventually marry and move away. I just… everything happened so quickly, I… I thought we had more time…”

“There, there, darling,” Lady Cheltenham said, patting her daughter’s shoulder. “We won’t be leaving London until the threat against Izzie has been resolved. So, you’ll be able to visit her. That will give you a chance to get used to the situation.”

“Could we come tomorrow?” Lucy sniffed.

“No, darling,” the countess said firmly. “We need to give Izzie and Thorpe a few days.”

Lucy nodded sadly, then stepped back. “I’m happy for you. I truly am. I know I don’t look it.” She gave Archibald a miserable smile. “I am sincerely glad my sister is married to such a fine gentleman as yourself.”

Archibald bowed over her hand. “Thank you.”

“Come,” Lady Cheltenham said, then put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and steered her out the door.

At last, he was alone with Izzie. She wasn’t crying, as her sister had been, but her eyes were moist and her cheeks were red. Archibald wasn’t sure what to say, so he settled for squeezing her hand. She glanced up and gave him a tiny smile that did not reach her eyes.

Just then, his parents hurried into the foyer, followed by a trio of footmen bearing urns of gardenias. “Has Lieutenant Astley left?” his mother asked, breathless.

“He has,” Archibald confirmed. “Why do you—”

“Quickly!” his father shouted. “Perhaps his carriage has not yet drawn away from the curb.”

“He’ll be wanting these,” his mother called over her shoulder. “For his regiment!”

Archibald groaned, rubbing his eyes as his parents sailed out the front door in a cloud of floral perfume. Beside him, Izzie giggled.

“I’m sorry about my parents,” he said. “They’re a bit, er…”

“They’re really not so bad,” Izzie mused. “Other than their misguided response to the prospect of your grandfather attending the wedding.”

Archibald grunted. So, she had noticed that.

“What your parents need,” Izzie continued, “is managing .”

Archibald shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve tried. They’re impervious to management.”

Izzie drew herself up, affronted. “I see that you have forgotten to whom you are speaking. I am the daughter of Georgiana Astley. Being managing is my birthright .”

Archibald chuckled. “You’re more than welcome to try.” Something occurred to him. “Does that mean you’ll be managing me, as well?”

She tapped her lip as if deep in thought. “Let’s see, over the course of our short acquaintance, you have rescued me from both Tristan Bassingthwaighte and an entire gang of kidnappers, then offered to build me my own library.” She looped her arms around his neck, smiling brightly. “You’re doing quite well on your own. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he raised his hands to her waist. “Good.”

“Speaking of which”—she twined her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck—“is it finally time to consummate this marriage?”

Without warning, Archibald scooped her into his arms. “ Yes . It is.”