To Tame the Wind (Agents of the Crown Book 0) (31 page)

When they reached the bishop, she let her hand
fall to her side and joined Simon who was waiting for her, so that she was now
standing between him and her papa.

The bishop made a few brief words of
introduction explaining the solemnity of the occasion and then began the ceremony.
Simon took her hand in his warm grasp. She was glad for his strength as she was
trembling.

“Dearly beloved,” the bishop began, “we are gathered
together in the sight of God, to join together this man and this woman in holy
matrimony… ”

Claire stole a glance at Simon. His face was inscrutable.
Did he have second thoughts?

The bishop continued, “… and therefore it is not to be taken
in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and
appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently,
discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God….”

The bishop asked Claire if she would have
Simon for her husband.

“I will,” came her reply.

Then the bishop asked, “Who giveth this woman
to be married to this man?”

Her papa said, “I do,” and stepped back.

They exchanged vows and Simon placed a gold
ring on her finger. She was certain it was the same ring he’d given her for
their carriage trip to Rye. When she looked at him, questioning, he smiled.
It
is the same ring.
Somehow that reassured her. Even then he had wanted her
as his wife for he had purchased a ring too fine for a ruse. On her other hand
she wore the blue moonstone ring her papa had given her, another symbol of
love.

Holding her hand in his larger, stronger one,
Simon said, “With
this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and
with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the
Son and of the Holy Ghost.”

Sill holding her hand, they knelt and
the
bishop prayed. Simon squeezed her hand, assuring her of his presence, his love.
She said a silent prayer, thanking God for leading her back to her golden one.

When it was done, they rose and Simon leaned
down and kissed her. It was a tender kiss but in his eyes she saw the promise
of more. “Mrs. Simon Powell,” he said, “I like the sound of that.”

“Me, as well.”

Cheers went up from the guests as she and
Simon turned to see their friends and well-wishers smiling at them. The bishop
gestured them to a registry where they entered their names.

Her papa was the first to approach them. He
shook Simon’s hand and embraced her. “I expect you to visit Paris from time to
time.”

“I will Papa.” She turned to Simon, seeking
his agreement. He nodded.

“And I will come here,” said her papa with a
wink. “The war will be over soon and then I can travel more openly to England.”

He bid them well and turned aside as other
guests approached. She looked over the shoulder of one smiling guest to watch
her papa walk into the crowd and noticed the eyes of many women following him.
So
it is true what Cornelia said.

Lord Danvers joined them then, Cornelia at his
side. “Congratulations, old boy,” he exclaimed to Simon. “You’ve done well.”

“And so has Claire,” Cornelia told her
husband. “A fine match all around, one that happily keeps Claire in London. I
couldn’t be more delighted.”

“Thank you for all you have done for us,” said
Claire.

Simon chuckled. “Aye, well, I suspect a large
part of it is wanting me out of their townhouse.”

“Too true,” chimed Lord Danvers. “But then you
bring with you such interesting guests.” The baron looked toward a group of men
standing to one side. Claire’s gaze followed.

“Simon, it’s some of the crew! Why, there’s
Mr. Landor and Captain Wingate. Oh, and Mr. Busby and Mr. Hawkins. I almost
didn’t recognize them in their fine clothing. It’s a far cry from the garb they
wear on the ship.”

Cornelia and her husband, pulled away by some
of their guests, provided Simon and Claire a moment alone.

“I suspect that was Jordan’s doing,” said
Simon. “He wouldn’t let my men come in less than their best. And he could not
have kept them away if he’d tried. They were determined to see us wed. Even
young Nate is somewhere around here,” he said, casting his gaze about the
crowded room. “Or he was earlier.”

Elijah Hawkins sidled up to them when he
caught them looking his way. “Knew the cap’n was done fer the minute I saw ye,”
he said to Claire.

She felt herself blush. She had no idea the
old seaman had considered them a match.

“’Tis clear you were meant for each other,”
said Mr. Landor, joining them, “and you make the captain very happy, madame.”

“Thank you, Mr. Landor,” she said, remembering
his kindness in Calais. “I’m glad you and the others came to share this day
with us.”

She had met John Wingate since she’d returned
to London, but did not know him as well as the others. When he, too, came to
join them, she held out her hand. He bowed over it. “I hope you do not hold
against me or my papa your imprisonment in Lorient,” she said.
Surely he
must.

“It was war, Mrs. Powell, and ’twill soon be
over. We are safely returned with none lost. For that I am most grateful. And I
do not forget that you, too, were a prisoner. One, it seems, who has been
captured for good.”

Simon chuckled. “Aye, ’tis true.”

She smiled, grateful for Mr. Wingate’s
understanding.

Simon’s men waved as they walked away,
promising to see them on the ship for Simon planned to sail to Rye the next
morning.

Claire looked up to see M’sieur Bequel
approaching her. He acknowledged Simon with a nod and then turned to her.
“Little one,
vous êtes très jolie
, and the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. Alas, you marry an
Englishman, but the
Capitaine
tells me you are happy, so I cannot
object.”

She kissed him on both cheeks as was their
custom. At her side, Simon bristled. She turned to him, “I have known M’sieur
Bequel a very long time, my love.”

“It matters not,” he said. “I’m just stingy
when it comes to your kisses.”

“Since her papa has given her to you with his
blessing,
Capitaine
Powell, I wish you well.” He bowed and left them.

Simon leaned in close and whispered. “Coming
from your father’s formidable quartermaster, that is a very large concession.”

She nodded. “Oh, look, Simon, there’s the
American, Captain Field, over there with Cornelia. She told me she was going to
try and obtain permission for him to attend. Isn’t it splendid she was
successful?” She waved to the handsome, young captain. “Do you mind if I go and
greet him?”

Simon let out a sigh.

“Simon, I’m a married woman now. You can
hardly object to me showing kindness to one of Cornelia’s countrymen.”

“I suppose not. But only a quick greeting and
then you’re mine. I’m hungry, and not just for food.”

Claire felt her cheeks heat. “You are
incorrigible.”

“Aye, I am. But I’ve had only my men and
Danvers for company. I long for yours.”

Simon watched his bride walk toward the
American captain who had once before stirred his jealousy. Field must have been
given new clothes with his invitation as he was much better attired than when
Simon had last seen him in the warehouse.

The American captain kissed Claire’s hand and
Simon scowled just as Eden sidled up to him.

“Finally got to meet the infamous Jean Donet,”
Eden said. “Was rather surprised that he seemed so much the gentleman.”

Simon wondered if Eden had forgotten his own
spies could don a disguise if need be that rendered them quite different than
their ordinary demeanor. “It’s a wedding, Eden, and he’s now my father-in-law.
How would you expect him to act? And do not forget, he was raised a comte’s
son.”

“Oh, trust me, Powell, I forget nothing. Might
be able to use that connection at some point.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but I would,” replied Eden. “Did you
never wonder how it is he came to speak English so well?”

Simon shook his head. He had not given it much
thought since Claire also spoke English.

“Seems he had quite a smuggling business into
our southern ports at one time, Rye included. But then you were only a boy at
the time. ’Twas before he became a pirate.”

“He is a pirate no longer.”

“Perhaps you are right.”

Simon shrugged. Donet was well able to take
care of himself. It would be unwise of Eden to tangle with him, pirate or no.

Higgins stepped into the room and announced,
“Breakfast is served.”

Simon reclaimed his bride and led her to the eating parlor,
the ceiling of which he had long admired. Its corners featured casts of the
four seasons: spring with garlanded flowers, summer with ears of corn, many
fruited autumn and bearded winter.

The long table at which the guests were taking their seats
was set with flowered china and crystal glassware. Simon thought the tall,
silver candelabra marching up the center of the mahogany table surrounded by
many hued flowers a bit much, but then it was a grand occasion. The grandest of
his life. Cornelia had pulled out all the stops.

“It’s all so splendid, Simon,” Claire remarked as he
escorted her to her chair.

“As long as it makes you happy, sweetheart.”

Danvers took his place at the head of the table and remained
standing to greet the guests as the footmen poured champagne. Cornelia was just
taking her seat at the other end with the young Duke of Albany on one side of
her and some peer Simon thought he’d met at the
soirée
on
the other.

Simon helped Claire to her seat, next to his, in the middle
of the table. Across from them was Claire’s father. On Donet’s right was a
woman in a dark blue silk gown. Simon returned her smile but could not, for the
life of him, remember her name.
Must be one of the baroness’ friends.
She seemed rather taken with the French privateer who was smiling at something
the woman had said.

Danvers claimed the guests’ attention. “Lift your glasses as
I toast the newly wedded couple. May mirth, love and children grace your home!”

Glasses were raised by all and the guests shouted, “Mirth,
love and children!”

Claire blushed, but she recalled that Cornelia said Danvers
had wanted children about even if they weren’t his own.

Simon stood, glass in hand, and faced Claire. “To my bride
and to our life together,” he said, bringing another lovely blush to her
cheeks. “I still can’t believe, of all the men in the world, I should be so
fortunate to have won your heart.”

“To the bride!” echoed the guests.

Claire said, “And I am glad I have won yours, my love.”

Simon smiled at the woman who held his heart in her hand and
remained standing. Directing his next toast to Donet, he said, “To peace!”

Claire’s father and the other guests seated around the
elegant table raised their glasses as one. “To peace!”

Donet slowly rose from his chair, his face set in stone.
Simon felt a wave of trepidation wash over him as he sat down. Whatever the
pirate was about to say, he would say in dead earnest.

Simon had hoped they could avoid toasts to America’s freedom
or the British Crown. He did not wish to alienate his friends or cause a
commotion at the wedding feast. He wanted the day to be a happy one for all.

Donet raised his glass and his dark eyes bored into Simon.
“May you love my daughter as I loved her mother—more than my own life.”

For a moment, silence prevailed as the other guests stared
at the Frenchman.

Simon stood and, with his eyes fixed on Donet’s dark
countenance, lifted his glass. “More than my own life.” Then he downed the rest
of his champagne.

Again silence reigned. Then the women began to smile. The
particular woman seated next to Donet stared at him with a look of longing. A
tear streaked down Claire’s cheek. At the far end of the table, Cornelia beamed
at her husband at the other end. Then smiles broke out on the faces of the
other guests until everyone at the table was smiling their approval.

Simon and Claire’s father resumed their seats. Simon looked
at his bride. Her eyes were filled with tears but there was a smile on her
beautiful face. Their gazes met and the room seemed to disappear. His whole
world was this woman whose love he had somehow managed to win.

Danvers cleared his throat.

Simon turned to consider his friend. “Aye, we should eat.
After all, you and Lady Danvers have gone to much trouble for us.”

Danvers glanced at his wife, his mouth twitching up in a
grin, then he lifted his fork.

What followed was a sumptuous feast that resembled dinner
rather than a breakfast, but since it was before noon, Simon recalled it bore
the name of the earlier meal. Egg dishes and ham were accompanied by breads and
pastries with butter and pots of honey and marmalade. As if that weren’t
enough, there were also plates of fresh fish in sauce and sliced cucumbers.
Bowls of peaches, plums, figs and dark purple grapes were set between the
candelabra. Simon plucked one pear from a bowl, supposing it was for eating as
well as decoration.

After the guests had filled themselves, the footmen brought
trays of sweetmeats and small cakes of various kinds. And more champagne,
coffee, chocolate and tea.

When the wedding breakfast was nearly finished, Simon drew
Claire from her seat. “I’ve a surprise for you.” Her papa exchanged a glance
with Simon and then rose and promptly left the table. Cornelia and her husband
also rose, excused themselves from their guests, and exited the room.

“What is it, Simon?” Claire asked. “Where are we going?”

“You will see,” he said wrapping his arm around her waist
and ushering her from the room. They crossed the entry hall to the baron’s
study. He opened the door and bid her enter.

In the middle of the study to one side of the desk, her papa
and a Catholic priest stood talking together. Next to them stood Cornelia and
her husband. Claire came to a sudden halt. “Oh, Simon!”

“I thought you might want a second ceremony. When I
suggested it to your father, he wholeheartedly agreed.”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Simon. He could not
know how much it meant to her that he would honor her faith on their wedding
day. It was a kindness she had not expected and a daring move. One she would
never forget. “Thank you.”

She walked toward the priest in his black robe and short,
white vestment that indicated he was about to perform a ritual of the church.
It was not unlike the one the bishop had worn, though perhaps simpler, less
ornate.

The ceremony was short but very meaningful. And she could
see her papa was pleased that her English husband had arranged it.

When it was done, Simon and her papa thanked the priest. Not
everyone who had attended the wedding would have approved of the private ceremony.
In truth, Claire knew many would not. Cornelia had told her that only a few
years before there had been riots in London against the Catholics and now many
worshipped only in house churches. But because he loved her, Simon had arranged
for a Catholic wedding. How could she not love such a man?

That evening, after many tearful goodbyes on the quay, Claire
boarded the
Fairwinds
just behind Simon. Before they went below, he drew
her to the stern rail to admire the sunset. Not far away, her papa stood on the
deck of the
Abundance
.

They had shared a light repast with her papa before
departing for their separate ships. Now that she was Simon’s wife, she would
sail with him to Rye and her papa and his men would sail back on the
Abundance
.

Claire looked into the clouds surrounding the setting sun.
“It was the most wonderful wedding, Simon. I’m so glad the rain did not fall.”

“It wouldn’t dare,” he said turning his back to the rail to
look at her. His amber eyes glistened with desire.

“By the by, your father approved my choice for our new
home.”

“Did he?”

“It’s one of the newer homes in the Adelphi Terrace. Just
think, you will be able to watch me row from my ship to the front door.”

“I would like that. But I would also like to sail with you.”
Seeing the frown that creased his brow, she added, “at least until the children
come.”

His eyes twinkled as he stepped closer and kissed her
forehead. “Children. Aye, I want children. That reminds me. I never told you
the promise I made to your father.”

“Oh yes, what was the promise he was determined to see you
keep?”

“I told him if he gave us his blessing our firstborn son
would bear his name.”

Claire couldn’t resist a smile. “I would like that,” she
said. “Jean Powell.”

“How does Jean Nicholas Powell sound?”

“It’s a nice name, but why Nicholas?”

“Nicholas is the name of the captain I first sailed under,
the one who taught me all I know about ships and the sea. He gave me a chance
to rise in his crew. I owe him much.”

“And so do I,” she replied. “If you had never become a captain,
I might never have become your captive. If God gives us a son, my love, then I
agree Jean Nicholas is a fine name.”

He led her aft, passing the smiling faces of his crew, who
tipped their hats to their captain’s new wife.

Once in his cabin, he lit a lantern and Claire suddenly felt
shy. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made love to her, but it would be the
consummation of their wedding vows. She was now a wife.

Looking back, she could see all that had happened that had
led her to this day. Had she always loved him? She was certain the spark of
love had kindled that night more than two years ago at the masquerade in
Saint-Denis. Had God been guiding her all that time?
Perhaps
. She was
more certain than ever the wise Reverend Mother would say so.

“Come, sweetheart, I can wait no longer for my bride.”

She turned in his arms and allowed him to free her from her
laces and stays. Soon they were both naked and standing before each other.

He took her face in his hands. “I intend to love you this
night and all our nights for the rest of our lives.” She opened her mouth to
accept his kiss. “Now let’s get started on making that son, shall we?”