The Winter Bride (A Chance Sisters Romance) (33 page)

“You shouldn’t have even tried,” she told him, trying to sound severe, but failing, largely because there was a lump in her throat.
Slaying dragons.
Lady Beatrice was right. “What if you’d been killed?”

He gave a slow half smile. “This”—he indicated his face with a vague gesture—“is nothing to what he looks like. He’s in prison now. Won’t ever bother you again. So now you can marry me.”

She took a deep breath. “Are you sure, Freddy?”

One bright blue eye opened. The other tried to open and failed. “What do you mean, am I sure?”

She moistened her lips anxiously. “You don’t have to marry me.”

He frowned. “Don’t I?”

She swallowed.
Have faith, Damaris
. “I made a promise to God, you see, on the way here in the carriage. I promised that if He kept you safe, I would give you up.”

He sat up and stared at her a moment, glaring at her out of his one good eye. “Well, what sort of a stupid promise was that? What if I don’t
want
to be given up, dammit? Promise to God.” He snorted. “No wonder I’m a Buddhist.”

“You are not.”

“I swear I will be if you keep making stupid promises to God.”

She thought of the fight he’d just had, how he must have felt meeting Captain Sloane, knowing what she’d done with him in that very cabin. “Are you certain, Freddy? You could marry anyone you wanted. Any fresh young society girl. Untouched. Pure.”

He gripped her by the shoulders. “I don’t want a fresh young society girl. I want a wife who is also my friend as well as my lover, a woman who has already been tested by life and is the stronger and more admirable for it, strong and good and pure—”

“Pure?” she choked out.

“Yes, pure. Pure of heart. A girl with a heart that is pure and untouched.”

She looked away, blinking back tears.

He captured her hands in his. His voice deepened. “Or perhaps your heart has been a little touched, dare I hope, by a worthless fellow who knows a gentleman should never press a lady, but who can’t help it.”

“Can’t help what?” she whispered.

“Hoping that you care for me. Praying, actually.”

There was a long silence. She met his gaze for just a moment, but though her eyes shimmered with tears he saw something that made him catch his breath.

“Of course I care for you, you foolish, wonderful man. More than care for you. I love you.”

His pulse leaped and he caught her to him. “I’ve been seven different kinds of fool not to tell you sooner, haven’t I?”

“Tell me what?” She shouldn’t care; she knew he’d gone out to slay dragons for her, that he’d shown it to her in so many ways. But she wanted the words, ached for the words.

He stared at her in surprise, then gave a short laugh. “Ridiculous, isn’t it, that I am so skilled in the many ways of making love, and yet when it comes to the real thing—the one, true thing—I am a bumbling fool. I suppose because it matters so much.”

“The one, true thing?” she breathed.

He gave her a rueful look. “And here I am blabbering on, drowning you with hundreds of words when I only need three.”

She trembled in his arms as she waited, breathless.
Have faith, Damaris, have faith.

And then he gave her the words she had so longed to hear. “I love you, Damaris Tait, Damaris Chance, Damaris-by-any-other-name-will-smell-as-sweet. And I want to marry you, and be your husband, your lover, your friend, and the father of your children. And that’s the reason—the
only
reason—I want to marry you. Because I love you.” He kissed her, and then couldn’t help saying it again, because suddenly it was so easy to say—“I love you, Damaris. So marry me and make me the happiest of men.”

“Oh, yes, Freddy, yes.” And as she kissed him, he rolled her slowly back into the bed, the better to demonstrate his love.

 • • • 

“W
ell?” Lady Beatrice asked softly.

Featherby nodded. “They’re asleep on the bed, m’lady.”

“Good, toss a blanket over them and let them sleep. They’re both worn out. Apart from all the drama, with all this dashing about the country, neither one of them will have slept in days.” The old lady grinned. “And then they’ll be thoroughly compromised—under
my
roof—so let them try to wriggle out of that! I’ve had enough of their foolish shilly-shallying. If ever two people were made for each other . . .” She snorted as she stumped away on her cane.

“Yes, m’lady.”

“A man does not recover from such a devotion of the heart to such a woman! He ought not; he does not.”

—
JANE AUSTEN,
PERSUASION

F
reddy paced restlessly about the room, picking things up and putting them down. “I suppose it has to come to us all, in the end—getting married, I mean.”

“Mm-hm.” Max finished tying his neck cloth.

“The old ball and chain.”

“That’s right.” Max gave the neck cloth arrangement a critical look.

“Never thought it would happen to me.” Freddy picked up a ruby tiepin and perused it.

“But you changed your mind.”

“No, fate intervened, in the form of a flood that stranded us for two nights alone. After that, of course, I had to marry the girl.”

“Naturally, you being the soul of honor in such matters,” Max agreed sardonically.

“Well, yes, I—” Freddy broke off, frowning. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“That’s right.” Max carefully inserted a ruby pin in one of the folds of his neck cloth. “You’re a fraud, Monkton-Coombes.”

“A fraud?” Freddy repeated with as much indignation as he could muster.

“Mm-hm.” Max adjusted the pin. “You can’t wait to get married.”

Freddy tried but failed to keep the smile from his face.

Max saw it and nodded. “Thought so. You fell for her the first time you saw her, that day I tricked you into entering Aunt Bea’s drawing room. You stood there staring for fully half a minute, your jaw hanging.”

“Can you blame me? There she was, sitting on a chaise longue, looking at me with those big brown eyes.” Freddy sighed.

“Who, my aunt?”

“Damaris, you fool. And bang!”

“The
coup de foudre
?”

“The
coup de foudre
,” Freddy agreed. “Never believed in it until then. But one glance and I was done for.”

“For a long time I thought you were avoiding the girl for all you were worth.”

“A man has his dignity,” Freddy said obscurely. “Took me the devil’s own cunning to reel her in, I should say. You have no idea of the stratagems I had to resort to, the places I had to go. Potteries!”

Max, in the process of donning his coat, slewed around to stare.
“Potteries?”

“Potteries,” Freddy affirmed. “Damaris is the stubbornest little creature.”

Max decided not to pursue the pottery question. “But you got her in the end.”

“I did,” Freddy said with satisfaction. He looked at Max and frowned. “Or I will, as soon as you’ve finished primping in front of that looking glass. Dammit, Max, I don’t want to be late for my own wedding. Can’t you dress any faster?”

 • • • 

“O
h, Daisy, it’s beautiful.” Damaris gazed, misty eyed, into the looking glass. Abby, Jane, Daisy and Lady Beatrice and several maids were gathered in Damaris’s bedchamber, helping Damaris dress for her wedding.

Freddy had applied for a special license the day after he’d fought the captain, and had it not been for Lady Beatrice’s interference, he would have married Damaris a bare three days later.

Lady Beatrice had pointed out the flaw in that plan with an acid tongue. “By all means, if you
wish
to give the gossipmongers enough fodder to suggest it took a good thrashing to force you into wedlock, go ahead. I’m sure Damaris won’t mind being known as the female who finally trapped you.”

As a tactic it was masterly. It was too close to the bone not to succeed.

Nettled, Freddy had set the date for ten days hence and had taken himself out of town—he didn’t tell Damaris where—to wait impatiently for his injuries—the visible ones, at least—to heal.

And now her wedding day had come.

The dress Daisy had made for her was quite the loveliest dress Damaris had ever worn. Made of heavy cream silk, tied at the high waist with a blue satin ribbon, it flowed around her limbs like warm water, caressing them subtly.

With a square-cut neck framing her face, it suited her, Damaris had to admit. And if it left quite a bit of her chest exposed, well, that was all the rage, and she had every intention of being as fashionable as Freddy.

The trouble was . . .

“Neck looks a bit bare,” Lady Beatrice said, frowning. “Dammit, I should have bought you some pearls or something. Or prompted Freddy to buy you pearls for your bride gift.”

“But I love what he gave me,” Damaris said, picking up the cream silk velvet cloak Freddy had sent her three days earlier and rubbing her cheek against its thick softness. It was warm and elegant and luxuriant and ridiculously impractical, for which she loved it all the more. The hood was edged with soft white fur.
For my lovely winter bride, to keep her warm when I can’t,
his note had said.

“Yes, yes, it’s very nice, but your neck is so bare.”

“You could wear my necklace,” Abby said, reaching to undo the diamond and pearl necklace Max had given her for her bride gift.

“No!” said four voices at the same time.

“Your wedding necklace is special and just for you,” Damaris said firmly. “I don’t think my neck looks too bare at all. I think it shows off Daisy’s clever design beautifully.”

Just then there was a knock on the door. “Come,” Lady Beatrice said.

Featherby entered, carrying an oblong white leather box on a tray. He beamed at Damaris. “From Mr. Freddy.”

There was a card attached. She took her time opening it. She wanted to savor every moment of this day. On the card was written in Freddy’s hand:
I’m told this makes an auspicious gift for a very special bride.

Auspicious? An unusual word to use. She opened the box, pushed back the layer of fine red silk that covered the object within—red, the Chinese color for good luck—and gasped.

“What is it?” The others crowded around to see.

“It’s a necklace. White jade,” she whispered. “It’s very old, I think, and very valuable. And very, very special.” A series of delicately carved oblongs, linked with gold, the centerpiece of the necklace was a superbly carved intertwined Chinese dragon and phoenix. Over and above the delicate beauty of the piece was a layer of meaning that touched her to the core. She wondered if he knew what the dragon and the phoenix symbolized. On so many levels, the symbolism worked.

Yin
and
yang
, the dragon and phoenix complemented each other and symbolized blissful relations between husband and wife. She gave a little chuckle. And as well as being a symbol of good luck, the dragon also represented power over water and floods. Did Freddy know that? He would claim it, she was sure.
You need to honor His Flood by marrying me.
And lastly, you could say that she was the phoenix, rising from the ashes of her past life.

In every way she could think of, this necklace worked. He couldn’t have found anything more perfect.

“Put it on,” Jane urged her.

She lifted it to her neck and fastened it. There was a simultaneous sigh from all the watching females. “It’s perfect,” Abby said.

“Couldn’t be more perfect if I’d designed it for the dress meself,” Daisy agreed.

Jane examined the necklace curiously. “It’s lovely, such intricate carving and so unusual. It’s you, Damaris.”

Lady Beatrice put up her lorgnette and scrutinized the necklace. “The boy’s surprised me. A very subtle, unusual and lovely piece—exactly right for you, Damaris, my dear. Now, are we ready? If that boy has to wait a moment longer, I suspect he’ll explode.”

 • • • 

T
he carriage pulled up in front of St. George’s in Hanover Square and, seeing the couple waiting for her on the pavement outside the church, a cold hand clutched at Damaris’s heart. It couldn’t be.

But it was. Lord and Lady Breckenridge, Freddy’s parents. Looking very grim.

She stepped down from the carriage and turned to her sisters and Lady Beatrice.

“Would you mind waiting here a moment? I won’t be long.” She hoped.

As she approached, she pulled Freddy’s velvet cloak around her protectively. Lord and Lady Breckenridge, seeing her, came forward. There was a long moment of silence as they looked at each other, wondering where to start.

“Lord Breckenridge, Lady Breckenridge, how do you do?” Damaris said coolly. Because politeness is the first defense.

“We’re not here to spoil your day,” Lady Breckenridge said abruptly.

“You’re not?” Damaris said warily.

Lord Breckenridge said stiffly, “We’re here to wish you well.”

“And to apologize,” his wife added.

Damaris blinked. “Apologize?”

“Yes, and thank you.”

“
Thank
me?”

Lady Breckenridge moistened her lips and glanced at her husband. “You gave us a great deal to think about. We made some . . . errors.”

“With your son, not me,” Damaris told her.

“I know.” Lady Breckenridge laid a tentative arm on Damaris’s gloved arm. “Will you allow us to attend your wedding?”

“
Allow?
But of course you can—”

Lord Breckenridge said, “Frederick said we had to ask you, that it was your day.”

“He came down for his brother’s memorial service,” Lady Breckenridge said.

“I’m glad,” Damaris said simply. So she hadn’t ruined everything. “Did he tell you you had to apologize too?”

Lady Breckenridge shook her head. “No, that was my idea. What you said shocked us, but it also woke us up to the injustice we’d done our son—our living son. We—we’d like to try again.”

Damaris considered her words. Freddy’s parents were still quite prickly, but underneath the awkwardness, they seemed sincere. She hoped they were, anyway. If they meant it, really meant it, it would be a wonderful thing for Freddy.

And if they didn’t? What difference would it make? Besides, it was her wedding day, and she wanted everyone to be happy.

She gave Lady Breckenridge a warm smile. “Of course Freddy and I would love to have you at our wedding. You’re his parents, aren’t you, and he loves you. I will too, if you give me a chance.”

“Oh, thank you, my dear,” Lady Breckenridge said, her voice suddenly husky. Lord Breckenridge cleared his throat noisily and gave her a brisk nod.

“All finished?” Lady Beatrice interrupted. “Nice day for a wedding. Wind getting a bit fresh to be standing around, though. And there’s a groom inside who’ll be getting anxious. Breckenridge, Louisa, coming?”

“Yes, of course.” Lord and Lady Breckenridge entered the church with Lady Beatrice. Featherby, William, Damaris, Abby, Jane, and Daisy hurried into the vestibule and fussed for a few moments to ensure Damaris looked perfect. Then Jane and Daisy took their places inside. Damaris was having only one attendant: Abby, her matron of honor, whose husband was the best man.

Then, at a signal from Flynn, the church organist played the opening chords and Damaris stepped out onto the red carpet and began the long, slow walk down the aisle to where Freddy waited.

The happy ending she’d never expected to have, never even dared to dream of. All her dreams were gathered here under this sacred roof today: a family who loved and accepted her, friends to wish her well and, best of all, a man who loved her, who she loved with all her heart, Freddy Monkton-Coombes.