Bride By Mistake (41 page)

She entered the house in a daze, and she spent the whole evening in a daze. She met dozens of people. His family were all natural beauties. She was the ugly duckling among them, but tonight she didn’t care. He loved her.

His friends were all tall and amazingly good-looking. Not as good-looking as Bella’s husband. And he loved her.

Somehow—she had no idea how—she got through the dinner. And then the orchestra struck up the first waltz. Luke had promised the first waltz to his little sister, Molly. It was a long-standing promise, and Bella was glad he was able to honor it, even if she had to resign herself to sitting out the dance with Luke’s mother.

She could manage some of the country dances—they were similar to dances she’d learned as a child—but she didn’t know how to waltz. Luke had tried to give her a lesson in waltzing on the ship coming over, but the sea wasn’t exactly smooth and it had been one-two-three-stagger, one-two-stagger.

She sat with Luke’s mother and Lady Gosforth and watched Luke and Molly twirling around the floor. She vowed to learn as quickly as possible. It looked like fun.

And then it was the second waltz. Luke’s friend Harry bowed and led Molly out onto the floor. Molly was glowing with happiness. She didn’t just have one big brother; she had four.

“My waltz, I believe,” Luke said and bowed before Bella.

“No,” Bella said, and then realized it sounded rude, and Luke’s mother was right there, watching. “You know I can’t waltz.”

“You managed perfectly well on the ship.”

“It was only once, and it was all one-two-stagger, because of the waves,” she explained to his mother. She turned back to her husband. “I can’t, Luke. I’ll make a complete mess of things.”

“Nonsense,” Luke said briskly. “All you need to do is trust yourself to my lead.” He glanced at her face and laughed.
“Oh well, one-two-stagger will do nicely. It’s so crowded nobody will notice. And if they do, we shall set a trend. Come, wife, you vowed to obey me. At least make a pretense of doing so in public.” He took her hand and almost dragged her onto the floor, ignoring her arguments, teasing her, and laughing.

Lady Gosforth, seeing Lady Ripton’s face, broke off from the comment she’d started to make. “Oh my dear, whatever is the matter?”

Lady Ripton’s gaze was fixed on her son and his wife. Her eyes were filled with tears.

“Is it the little Spanish gel? Has she upset you?” Lady Gosforth began.

Lady Ripton shook her head. “Look at my son,” she whispered. “Look at him, Maude.”

Lady Gosforth lifted her lorgnette and peered at Lady Ripton’s son. “What? Looks a damn sight better than he’s looked for years, if you ask me.”

“Exactly. That little Spanish girl—” Lady Ripton mopped away a fresh surge of tears. “Look at him, Maude—he’s laughing. He’s teasing her. He’s dancing. That dear, dear child has brought my son back to me.” She sobbed happily.

“My dear, yes, I see it,” Lady Gosforth murmured.

“All the boys came back changed. Harry and Gabe and my dear Rafe—you know as well as anyone the darkness they brought back from the war.”

“All had demons riding them,” Lady Gosforth agreed. “Wild to desperation, every one of ’em.”

“And Luke was the worst. But over the years, I’ve watched each one of those boys settle down, fall in love, become… happy. But not my Luke, never my Luke.” She wiped her eyes. “And when he told me he’d married a foreign girl when he was just nineteen and she thirteen… Of course I expected the worst. I’ve been so deeply distressed about the whole thing—well, you know all about it. But look at them, Maude. Just
look
at my son and that wonderful girl.”

On the dance floor Isabella was twirling lightly in Luke’s
arms as if she’d been doing it all her life, gazing up at her husband, her hand clasped against his heart. And Lady Ripton’s tall, beautiful son was gazing down at his little Spanish girl with a look in his eyes that brought fresh tears to his mother’s eyes.

“She adores him,” Lady Gosforth commented.

“And he adores her,” Lady Ripton sobbed. “The dear girl.”

“Y
ou were going to tell me something,” Bella reminded Luke that night as they were preparing for bed. Her first ball had been magical. Luke’s friends and relations had welcomed her with open arms. The men had danced with her, their wives had befriended her, and Luke’s mother embraced Bella whenever she saw her. She still felt like dancing.

“Will you look at that,” Luke exclaimed softly under his breath. He’d just removed his shirt and, as was his usual habit, had peered under the gauze bandage that covered his wound.

“Show me.” Bella hurried over.

Luke slowly lifted the bandage off. With it came the dried scab of the wound. Beneath lay new skin. Shiny pink skin, a little puckered. He was scarred, yes, but there was not a hint of a rose anywhere to be seen.

“Oh Luke…”

He picked her up and carried her to bed.

M
uch later she stirred in his arms, stretching languorously. “You were going to tell me something.”

“Hmm?”

“In the carriage. You started but we were interrupted.” She was hungry for the words.

He pulled her close to him and rolled over so she lay on top of him, naked, skin to skin. “You want all the gory details, do you?”

“Yes.” She kissed his chest. “Every. Last. One.” She punctuated it with kisses.

He thought for a moment. “I’m utterly and totally besotted with you.”

She frowned. “Besotted? That means drunk.”

“Drunk, intoxicated. In love with.”

She kissed him again. “I prefer the last one.”

“I love you Isabella Mercedes Sanchez y Vaillant Ripton, with all my heart and soul. You are the light of my life. Almost literally. You saved me, you know.”

“What from?”

“From the darkness within me.”

“It was not your darkness, and anyway”—she kissed the fresh pink scar—“it’s all gone now.”

He kissed her long and thoroughly and then said, “And?”

“What do you mean, and?”

“Haven’t you got something to say to me?”

“But you know I love you. I told you ages ago.”

“A bare ten days ago.”

“Hah, so you do remember.”

“I have a terrible memory.” He smiled. “Say it again.”

He was as hungry as she was for the words, Bella saw. She kissed him, moving lower each time. “I. Love. You. Luke. Ripton.”

“I like your punctuation. Do it again.”

Epilogue

“Y
ou don’t mind, do you my dear?”

“Not at all,” Bella assured her mother-in-law. “I am very happy to marry Luke again. I made those first vows as a child and did not really understand what I was promising.” And Luke had made his assuming he could get them annulled. “To pledge myself to your son as an adult, in full knowledge of what these sacred promises mean, will make me very happy.”

“And besides, you were married in a tiny village church with no family or friends whereas—” Lady Ripton broke off. “Oh my dear, I’m sorry. I did not think.”

Bella smiled mistily. “It does not matter. I have been without family for a long time.”

“You don’t mind about the church? St. George’s Hanover Square is the most fashionable church, and it’s where all my children were christened and confirmed. But it’s not Catholic.”

Bella smiled. “I don’t mind. Papa was an atheist and, while Mama was quite religious, I was educated in a convent… the Inquisition—faith by fear?” She shook her head. “No, a church is a church. It makes no difference to me.”

“Excellent. Now, put on your shawl. It’s still a little chilly outside.” She adjusted Bella’s shawl and inspected her. “There, so lovely you look. Such a shame your own mother could not—No.” She broke off, dabbing at her eyes. “We will not cry and come to your wedding with red eyes.”

Bella touched her mother’s pearls. “I know. Mama has been very much on my mind. She was cynical about love, but at heart she was a romantic and she loved weddings. She would have loved to be here. She would have been happy for me.”

“Of course she would, and I’m sure she’s with you in spirit—oh dear.” She dabbed again at her eyes. “Now come along, we don’t want to be late. Who’s giving you away?”

“I don’t know. Luke said he’d arranged it, but he didn’t tell me who.”

“It will be one of the boys,” Luke’s mother said. “Gabe or Rafe or Harry. Such excellent friends. Ready?”

Bella made one last inspection of herself in the looking glass and nodded. She walked down the stairs arm-in-arm with her mother-in-law. “Good heavens,” Lady Ripton exclaimed. “Visitors? At this hour and on such a day? Who can have admitted them? We must send them away.”

In the hallway Molly stood talking to an elderly couple, a tall, distinguished-looking man with silver hair and a neat white beard, and an elegantly dressed little white-haired lady. She looked up as Bella descended and clutched the man’s arm.

Bella’s footsteps faltered. That little lady… it couldn’t be… Mama with white hair?

She stopped on the last step, breathless.

“I see you’re wearing your mother’s pearls,” the man said in a deep, husky voice.

She knew that voice. “Grandpapa?”

“You look beautiful, Isabella,” Bella’s grandmother said. “The image of your dear, dear mother.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“I thought you were dead,” Bella whispered, embracing them.

“Oh, my darling girl.” Her grandmother hugged her tightly.

“We thought the same of you,” her grandfather said gruffly.

“But how… how did you know? And find me on this day of all days?” Bella asked when they’d recovered enough to speak.

“Lord Ripton tracked us down,” Bella’s grandfather told her. “Said he thought I might like to give the bride away.”

“Oh yes, please.” Bella wept and hugged them both again.

I
t was a beautiful wedding, Bella was sure. Much more beautiful than the first time she’d married Luke Ripton. There were flowers and elegant clothes and fashionable guests and music.

But she didn’t remember this one any better. She was too full of happiness to notice anything. Anything except the blaze of love in her husband’s eyes as she walked down the aisle toward him.

“Love isn’t pain, Mama,” she whispered. “It’s joy.”