From Wallflower to Countess. Janice Preston

‘Tonight...what will it be like? What should I do?’

      ‘Do?’ Lady Katherine’s cheeks grew pink. ‘Why, Felicity, I cannot believe you wish to discuss such matters with me. It is for your husband to instruct you. Do as he says and, remember, it is your duty to please your husband at all times in such matters. That is all you need to know.’

      * * *

      Richard sat in the front pew of the Abbey Church next to Leo. The rector was searching through the Bible on the lectern, the sound of shuffling pages loud in the near-empty church.

      Richard reviewed the messages he would send the minute their nuptials were complete. The Bath Chronicle and The Times would publish formal announcements and he had written letters ready to be taken by courier to his mother at Fernley Park and to the London address of his heir, his distant cousin, Charles Durant.

      He had also penned a more personal letter to his mistress of the past six months, Harriet, Lady Brierley. Harriet’s image formed in his mind’s eye—soft, voluptuous, enticing—and a pang of regret speared him at the knowledge he would never again... He cursed silently, then cast a guilty look at the rector. Thinking about his mistress on the morning of his wedding was bad enough but blasphemous thoughts in church...? He offered a silent apology to God and vowed to exercise tighter control over his thoughts.

      His letter to Harriet, besides informing her of his marriage, had ended their affaire. The impulse to walk away surprised him—had he not deliberately sought a marriage of convenience in order not to change his life? Harriet was discreet and their affaire was not common knowledge but still he had felt honour-bound to end it out of respect for Felicity. He consoled himself with the thought he could always take another mistress in the future, once his heir was born.

      ‘You are quiet.’ Leo’s voice dragged him from his thoughts.

      ‘Merely ensuring I have not forgotten anything,’ Richard replied. ‘Announcements and so forth.’

      ‘You are still minded to leave for Fernley Park immediately after the ceremony?’

      ‘I am. I apologize for the lack of a wedding breakfast, but the thought of accepting Farlowe’s hospitality...’ Richard shuddered.

      ‘Indeed. And it would be a poor start if you knocked your new father-in-law senseless before the ink is dry on the register, would it not? Do you intend to travel all the way home today?’

      ‘I do. I want our first night as a married couple to be under my...our...roof. I have no wish to spend our wedding night in some inn by the wayside.’

      ‘You will both be exhausted by the time you arrive, after travelling all day yesterday as well.’

      The bells began to strike the hour and the door at the back of the church creaked open to admit Lady Katherine. She wafted down the aisle, alternately smiling and tearful, flourishing a delicate, lace-edged scrap of a handkerchief with which she dabbed at her eyes. As she settled in the pew opposite his, Richard bent his head, concentrating on his hands, clenched into fists between his knees. The fuss and the flutter eventually subsided and he looked up in time to see the rector signal to someone at the back of the church.

      This is it.

      His insides quaked in an unfamiliar way and he experienced a sudden urge to flee which he quashed ruthlessly. He was doing the right thing for all the right reasons.

      ‘Nervous?’ Leo’s whisper was accompanied by a steady hand on his shoulder.

      ‘No.’

      He stood up and turned to watch his bride glide down the aisle on her stepfather’s arm. His breathing—which only now did he realize had quickened—steadied and slowed. As Felicity neared, her attention fixed firmly on the rector, Richard recognized that his brief attack of nerves must be as nothing compared with hers. He willed her to look at him and was rewarded when, only a few feet away, she did.

      Her eyes were shadowed, and her lips compressed. Doubt emanated from her and Richard’s own doubts re-emerged. If the match was so distasteful, why was she here?

      And yet...and yet...he recalled their conversations; their kiss. She was not indifferent to him. She wanted—she had said as much—to wed, and to get away from her stepfather. He would make sure she did not regret their union. She was to be his wife.

      His. To have and to hold. He would protect her, and care for her.

      He would fulfil his part of the bargain.

      He reached for her hand, to reassure her. She flashed a grateful smile, transforming her face, and his own nerves settled. Her fingers twitched within his grasp, then curled around the edge of his palm. As one, they turned to face the rector.

       Chapter Twelve

      A small crowd gathered around the three carriages as they lined up outside the Abbey. Richard and Felicity emerged to a muted cheer, followed by a swell of speculation as Felicity’s name was passed from onlooker to onlooker. The crowd pressed closer, and Richard heard Leo’s name mentioned, followed by his own as the speculation got louder.

      Leo, Lady Katherine and Mr Farlowe were close behind them, followed by the few friends and servants who had been in the church to witness their wedding.

      ‘How handsome you looked, walking down the aisle, Farlowe.’ Lady Katherine’s voice rang out. ‘And you, dearest Felicity, you looked very nice, as you came into the church. It is a shame you were seen to such disadvantage next to your stepfather, do you not agree, Stanton?’

      ‘My love, I beg of you,’ Farlowe interjected hastily. Richard had caught the man’s eye and glared at him with such intent that Farlowe had paled. ‘This is Felicity’s day—’

      ‘Oh, Felicity is used to me running on, aren’t you, darling? She isn’t a girl to take offence.’

      ‘I take offence,’ Richard said quietly. Blast the woman. Why must she continually undermine Felicity? She clearly believes the only characteristic of any virtue is beauty. ‘If you will excuse us, my wife and I have a long journey ahead of us.’ He held out his hand, smiling at Felicity. ‘Come, my dear.’

      Felicity shot Richard such a furious look, he stared. Did she not want him—her husband—to speak out and protect her? A glance at Leo only elicited a resigned shrug.

      ‘She is my mother. She loves me in her own way,’ Felicity hissed before turning to her mother, who rushed to embrace her.

      ‘Oh, Felicity, I did not mean anything by it, you know I did not. You know how I rattle on sometimes. I shall miss you so much, my darling.’ Lady Katherine’s eyes brimmed with tears as she flung her arms around her daughter.

      ‘And I shall miss you too, Mama.’ Felicity’s voice was thick with emotion.

      Not for the first time Richard realized that his upbringing, and his current relationship with his mother, had ill prepared him to understand the subtleties of other people’s families. He only had to think of Leo’s large, boisterous brood to comprehend what he had missed in his childhood. Mayhap Richard could learn something of family from his new bride, and top of that list appeared to be forgiveness. Richard vowed that, as his wife, Felicity would get all the support and kindness she deserved. Then his own children would grow up secure and happy in a contented household such as every child surely deserved.

      Felicity said her goodbyes to the rest of the congregation, speaking to each one in turn. The last, an elderly, stooped lady, got a hug and a kiss.

      ‘Stanton?’ Felicity beckoned him.

      Richard felt his brows contract. Stanton? She should call him Richard. Everyone else called him Stanton.

      An uncertain expression crossed Felicity’s face and Richard smiled, to show her he was not annoyed. How little they knew of each other—negotiating their relationship at the