Chapter 15

"Ihave brought your breakfast, Miss Hoskins," Annie said after knocking on the bedroom door.

"Oh, thank you. I did not realize… Patrick does not generally approve of having breakfast in the bedroom."

"Today is your wedding day, and your brother has other concerns to occupy him." Annie smiled, bringing in the tray and laying it down on the small table. "It's your last breakfast in this house too. Cook has made you a fine meal to set you up for the day. You don't know what time you will next eat, with all the day's excitement."

Bacon, eggs and mushrooms steamed on a plate, along with rolls, butter and coffee, and a slice of Cook's dense fruitcake. Dorothy swallowed, hoping she was not too nervous to do the food justice. She had been awake since shortly after dawn, the anticipation of the day ahead too much for her nerves.

Today, she would leave this house forever, she would become the Duchess of Dawford, and a tall, dark handsome man she had never seen in her life until two short weeks ago would take her to his bed. Each of these thoughts weighed on her in the early hours, and she hoped she would have the courage to see the day through without tears.

Then Dorothy saw the single yellow rose sitting alongside the plate and lifted it from the tray. It was almost golden in the early morning sun, and its scent was so sweet that she could not help but smile as she inhaled it

"His Grace sent the rose for you," Annie told her. "To tell you that he was thinking of you this morning."

The small gesture touched Dorothy. This strange man she was about to be inextricably bound to could be surprisingly thoughtful and kind, even if he had never really wanted this marriage any more than she did. They had both been trapped by circumstances and the strict social framework of their society.

Desire and honor, she mused again on the two factors that seemed to drive the Duke. Whether his sending the rose was motivated by the former or the latter, it made her feel less alone in this venture.

"Can you let him know that I will wear it?" Dorothy asked, touching the soft petals of the flower with her fingers. "I shall pin it to my dress with my mother's brooch, I think."

Annie nodded approvingly. "You will look fine in your white figured muslin, with that yellow silk sash, and now the rose."

"Whatever Patrick might think of my outfit…" Dorothy answered, smiling. "I suppose the entire servants' hall must have heard our arguments over my dress this week."

Tactfully, Annie busied herself with pouring Dorothy's coffee rather than commenting on this observation. From new dresses to diamonds, Dorothy had refused every one of Patrick's requests for her personal outfitting, and he had not accepted her rejections quietly. Still, this was the one matter today over which Dorothy could exert any control, and she had been adamant.

A new thought came to her suddenly.

"After breakfast, would you help me dress, Annie? I don't want any fuss, but I would appreciate your company."

Dorothy did not officially have a lady's maid, although one of the senior housemaids styled her hair and helped arrange her clothes for formal occasions. For today, she had previously instructed the household that she would prefer to get ready alone, planning only a simple toilette that required no real assistance.

Aside from this, she had also suspected that the presence of others might only increase her nervousness. But Annie was different, and she apparently knew the Duke better than Dorothy.

"As you wish," Annie agreed readily. "It's your wedding day, Miss Hoskins, and we all want you to be happy. I'll tell Mrs. Green, and she can reassign my duties for the morning. Now, I'll leave you to eat your breakfast and pass your message for His Grace to the servants next door."

She went to the door and then turned back.

"Oh, I almost forgot, a note for you came this morning. Likely well-wishes from a friend."

Dorothy broke open the seal on the small letter as soon as Annie was gone, recognizing Lauren's handwriting and the large ‘L' with which she always signed her messages.

Wishing you every happiness on your wedding day, dear Dorothy. Do give the Duke my regards. And as mothers and matrons always advise, close your eyes, think of something else and the wedding night will be over all the faster!

"There is no call to be nervous," Annie assured Dorothy as she helped her don the white muslin. Dorothy's shivers and tension were impossible to hide at such close quarters. "His Grace really is a good man."

"So you and his mother both tell me," Dorothy replied. "But will he be a good husband? What even is a good husband? I have no idea. How could I not be nervous when there is so much I do not know?"

Her eyes flicked again to the folded paper of Lauren's note, her stomach lurching at the flippant words that had likely only been intended to coax a smile.

"It's natural to be nervous about new experiences," Annie commented, carefully fastening the dress. "But generally, they turn out to be fine, and then you wonder why you were ever so scared. I was nervous about coming to work for your family after only being with Lady Carreford's household before, but now I'm happy enough here, although I'll be sorry when you go and there are only the gentlemen."

They smiled at one another in the looking glass.

"I was trying not to think too much about the wedding night," Dorothy admitted, "but then my friend wrote to wish me well this morning and mentioned it as a joke. I do wish she hadn't."

"Is the young lady married?" Annie asked.

Dorothy shook her head. "No, not yet, although she is a few years older than me and knows more about the world, I think."

"Then likely she has no idea what she's talking about, does she? Don't pay any attention to such jokes, Miss Hoskins. His Grace will take very good care of you tonight, I'm sure."

That idea made Dorothy shiver with an entirely different sensation. Was it harder to reconcile herself with the idea of enduring the wedding night or enjoying it?

"You're not married either, Annie," she observed. "Do you know any more about wedding nights than my friend?"

"Likely a little more," the maid answered carefully. "I'm a country girl, not a lady, and I grew up on a farm, after all. I've also been engaged to my Fred for almost two years now."

Dorothy blinked, not entirely sure what social class or the farm had to do with anything but intrigued by the thought of Annie's two-year engagement with her young man.

"Two years?" she repeated. "It's a long time."

Annie nodded resignedly. "It is, but we must both save enough money to marry. Fred has only just finished his apprenticeship with the printer and must make his way first. In another year or two, he'll be earning a good wage, and then we'll see."

"Even though it's a long wait, you and Fred must at least know one another well by now," Dorothy said somewhat wistfully.

When she had vaguely dreamed of marriage as a girl, she had imagined courtships full of conversation and shared experience as well as mutual liking. But now her marriage would begin with her knowing almost nothing of her husband beyond his worldly accomplishments, his absolute adherence to duty, and the strange thrill imparted by his lips every time he allowed his desire free rein.

"We certainly do." Annie laughed. "I've never had a wedding night, but I know what makes a good man and a good husband by now. My Fred has all those qualities, and so does His Grace, I'm sure. They're both strong men, but they both know how to be gentle, and that's what you'll want in your bedchamber when you're married, I'll warrant."

"Is it?" Dorothy asked vaguely, now sitting down at the dressing table and beginning to brush out her long chestnut-brown hair.

Annie nodded with circumspection and took the brush from her hand. "It is. Take my word for it and don't worry."

Dorothy did her best to take Annie's advice, but her stomach still felt as though it was tied in knots as she descended the staircase in her father's house for the last time as Miss Dorothy Hoskins. Her trunks of clothes, books and other personal items had all been carried across to the neighboring house the previous day. Now, it only remained for her to follow them.

Patrick was waiting for her in the hallway with their father. Lord Prouton was tucked well into his bath chair with woolen blankets, Wilkes standing behind and ready to push.

"There you are, Dorothy," her brother huffed, looking at his pocket watch. "I know that brides are traditionally late on their wedding days, but I do think we should make an exception, since you are marrying into a family of high rank. Father agrees we should arrive early as a token of respect. It will also give him the chance to meet the Dowager Duchess."

"As you wish, Patrick," she agreed, feeling that fifteen minutes in the hallway with her brother was likely no better than fifteen minutes in the neighboring garden, waiting for the vicar. "We can leave now if you think it best."

She doubted that Lord Prouton and the Dowager Duchess would get very much sense or edification from a meeting, but Patrick would have to learn that for himself.

"Excellent," he said, rubbing his hands and then stopping to regard her critically for one final time. "I do wish you'd agreed to wear the diamonds, Dorothy. Our family might not be of the highest station, but we do have money, and I would prefer that no one doubted that."

"The diamonds are for your future wife, Patrick," Dorothy returned, keeping up her main argument. "She will likely prefer them unworn."

In truth, she wanted nothing more from her older brother, the person whom she really blamed for her present situation. She certainly did not want to be made a crude shop window display for his wealth, even before only the Duke of Dawford and the small party who would witness their wedding.

"Well, at least take off that awful flower. It makes you look like a shopgirl or a maid with no other choice of ornament."

"The Duke sent this rose to me," Dorothy said crisply. "I shall not remove it."

Unable to argue with her on this point, Patrick only harrumphed his displeasure and walked down the hallway towards the garden doors, the stair-free garden path being more comfortably negotiated by their father's chair than the main street outside.

"We'll all be watching from the garden gate," Annie whispered from her place, holding open the French window doors as Dorothy passed behind her family. "Good luck!"

"Thank you!" Dorothy returned, swiftly squeezing the young woman's hand.

Once through the garden gate, deliberately rather than accidentally ajar today, they proceeded up the path towards the Duke's house.

The Duke, his mother, and Miss Hughes were already there, the two ladies seated on comfortable chairs on the terrace, set back a short distance from a carved wooden lectern presumably set up for the vicar. One empty chair sat vacant to the right, presumably for Patrick, while Lord Prouton could be wheeled into the space beside him.

As Patrick took charge of the bath chair, Toynton beckoned Wilkes from inside the drawing room and murmured something in his ear that made him smile. Inside, Dorothy glimpsed a collection of excited servants, presumably gathered to watch the wedding.

"Your Grace, what a happy day!" Patrick exclaimed, seizing the Duke's hand and gripping it for as long as Aaron permitted. "My father and I are very conscious of the honor and solemnity of the occasion, and I assure you that…"

But Aaron wasn't listening. He was looking straight past the men in front of Dorothy, his deep blue eyes fixed on her so intently that she wondered whether her hair had come down or she had inadvertently brushed against some wet paint. He looked tense, but there was still that familiar hunger in his eyes, even stronger today but also more strongly repressed.

"Lord Prouton, Mr. Hoskins," he acknowledged stiffly as the latter bowed deeply before him and the former inclined his head. "May I present my mother, the Dowager Duchess of Dawford, and her companion, Miss Hughes."

"Your Grace," Patrick greeted with another low bow, this time before the gray-haired lady, who was staring at him in bemusement.

To Dorothy's indignation, her brother entirely ignored Miss Hughes beside the Dowager Duchess, a fact that was not lost on Aaron either. Patrick had an unpleasant habit of ignoring those who had neither the wealth nor status to make themselves interesting to him. She herself made a point of greeting both ladies with pleasure and introducing the good-natured companion to her father.

"You look well, Dorothy," Aaron said quietly once the others were exchanging pleasantries and there was space for him to address her directly. "Your dress becomes you. As does my rose."

She blushed and touched the flower lightly with her fingers. "I was glad to have your token with me this morning, and Annie's company too. Today is not something that either of us wanted, but I thank you for not making it harder than it has to be. You have my gratitude."

"I do not want your gratitude," he returned with the ghost of a smile.

"Then what can I give you?"

His smile deepened, and his face relaxed, at least for a few seconds.

"You are about to give me yourself, Dorothy. What more could any man ask from a woman?"

She nodded silently at this further frightening but compelling thought.

The Dowager Duchess's voice suddenly cut through the tension of the moment. "Why are you wearing that awful waistcoat?" she asked Patrick, shaking her head in disapproval. "It does not become you, you know."

Patrick's eyes widened, but he could only laugh politely in response, as though she was making a jest.

"We have good weather for the wedding today, don't we?" Miss Hughes piped up in an attempt to head off embarrassment.

Again, Patrick pointedly ignored the small woman.

"You're Miss Hoskins' brother?" the Dowager Duchess continued, regarding the rest of Patrick's attire and tutting slightly. "I'm surprised she didn't advise you against that waistcoat, young man, and that golden pocket watch, the tie pin, and the cufflinks too. The magpies will be after you! You should always listen to ladies in matters of dress, and you will never go wrong. That is what my husband always said…"

Patrick kept up his forced grin, although now he was red in the face with the humiliation of having his appearance picked over before this group, but unwilling to contradict the Duke's mother.

Dorothy was tempted to abandon her brother to the Dowager Duchess's potentially infinite store of further criticism, but she felt it would be unnecessarily cruel to the older lady, who didn't really understand what she was doing.

"You look very well today, Your Grace," she commented. "I believe that you prefer to be outdoors when the weather is fine. I'm glad we shall have a garden wedding today if it pleases you."

"There, you see, Mr. Hoskins? Look at your sister, so neat and trim in a simple white dress, with only a flower and a simple brooch. That is the only ornament a beautiful young girl needs on a summer day."

Dorothy smiled and accepted the compliment graciously. "You are too kind, Your Grace."

"I'm now just waiting to see what dreadful outfit my son's bride might have chosen. I wouldn't be surprised to find her outfitted with even greater vulgarity than Mr. Hoskins."

"I am marrying Dorothy, Mother," Aaron reminded her as Patrick looked around with bewilderment.

The Dowager Duchess's face broke into a smile. "You're marrying Dorothy Hoskins, you say? I'm glad to hear you've had a change of heart, Aaron. Miss Hoskins is a much better choice than that other woman…"

"Other woman?" Patrick echoed in alarm. "The marriage contract is signed, Your Grace, but I was not aware of any previous obligations on your side before we negotiated our terms, and I must ask?—"

"There is no other woman," Aaron swiftly assured the confused Lord Prouton and Patrick Hoskins. "I have no previous obligations. My mother has been unwell for a long time. I trust you will understand."

The Dowager Duchess took both Dorothy's hand and Aaron's and smiled at them affectionately as she continued her rambling.

"You seemed so familiar together that I was really quite worried for Miss Hoskins' reputation, I must confess. Yes, you must marry her, Aaron. It is the honorable thing to do if you cannot behave entirely properly around a young lady without your mother's reminders. Do it now, before that awful gold-digging, title-hunting woman comes back!"

Patrick looked at Dorothy with distinct displeasure, likely itching to ask her questions about her behavior, the mysterious other woman in the Dowager Duchess's story, and how Aaron's mother could be under such misapprehensions on the very day of their wedding.

But now Dorothy's obligations to Patrick were over, she realized. From this day onwards, he would have little influence over her and no control, whether he realized it or not.

"Dorothy and I will marry right now, Mother," Aaron said gently. "As soon as the vicar is ready."

"Do the servants have their punch?" the Dowager Duchess asked, now that this larger question finally seemed settled in her head, at least temporarily. "Louisa, did you arrange for the punch and cake for the staff?"

Her companion nodded reassuringly.

Before Mary could ask anything further, the group's attention was diverted by the appearance of the vicar, Reverend Biggs—almost as small as Miss Hughes, although with a dignity that could match a man twice his size. In gown and surplice, with a bible under his arm, he emerged through the crowd of servants in the drawing room and smiled gravely at the party outside.

"If everyone is assembled, then we can begin."