Chapter Twenty
August 18, 1818
Hadleigh Hall
Derbyshire, England
Isobel stood beside Royce in the large drawing room at Hadleigh Hall as they listened to the clergyman with a ring of white hair around his balding pate speak the words that would join them irrevocably together as husband and wife. As the summer morning sun shone brilliantly into the room and a gentle breeze carried the scents of the country through the open windows and terrace doors, she trembled with anticipation.
Today, she’d chosen to wear a gown of pale-yellow silk, and because she always wished to be different and portray herself not like others, she’d added a long veil of delicate lace and embroidered along the edges with tiny pink and yellow flowers. Before she’d come downstairs, she’d left her mother’s ruby ring on her bedside table. It might have once reminded her why she shouldn’t marry a man with a title, but oddly enough, now that she was nearly wed, she no longer felt that way. It had been flawed thinking and a manifestation of her fears. As best she could, she would move forward into this new endeavor with her head held high.
And never in her life had she felt more beautiful or feminine, and certainly all eyes were on her.
Would they expect she’d fail in her new roles? Did they wonder if this was all a lark and she’d soon bring more scandal upon their heads?
As if Royce knew the direction of her thoughts, he squeezed her hand, and she stifled the urge to sigh. How did he know her so well this quickly? While she held his hand and the vicar spoke, she let her mind wander a tiny bit.
A little over two weeks ago, most of the Storme family made the journey from London to the Derbyshire countryside. Shortly after they’d arrived, everyone had gathered in the peaceful churchyard on the property to witness her mother’s burial. Now she rested next to Isobel’s father, and she wished them a peaceful eternal rest.
Now, that same family sat in the drawing room watching her marry Doctor Marsden, the man who’d sent her life tip over tail, the man who took the edge off her grief, the man who could calm her emotions when they felt overwhelming. Yes, the two events so close together would sound bizarre to most people, but she didn’t much care.
When had anything the Stormes had done been proper or acceptable?
The vicar said something to Royce, and when the doctor shifted his stance to take the plain silver band, the clergyman said, “You may present the ring to the lady.” With a faint grin and a deliciously wicked twinkle in his eye, the doctor slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. Then the vicar spoke again. “Please repeat after me, Your Lordship.”
A shudder went down Isobel’s spine, for this was the most somber she’d ever been in the whole of her adult life with the exception of burying her mother. Though her throat was tight with unshed tears, flutters of excitement bounced through her lower belly. She met Royce’s gaze. The abject joy in those hazel pools fed her own and soothed her frazzled nerves. Please let us feel as happy years from now as we do today.
Royce gently squeezed her fingers. “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. Amen.” And because her doctor had always been a gentleman, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
The vicar smiled. The gesture crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. “Please kneel, Your Lordship, while everyone is invited to pray.”
As the words of the prayer flowed over her, Isobel dared to peek at her new husband. He looked back with a satisfied grin curving his lips. A shiver of anticipation went down her spine. For better or worse, they were wed, and soon she would have a husband as well as become the Countess of Worchester—and all that entailed.
Would she be good enough? Would she prove an asset, a support, to this man instead of a hindrance and an embarrassment? Only time would tell, but already she felt more accepted in his life than she ever had in the whole of hers. Beyond that, the urge to garner attention had receded somewhat. She didn’t need attention any longer, not while Royce was with her.
Then the prayer was over, and Royce stood. He smoothly brought her to her feet. The warm clasp of his hand in hers sent trembles tumbling down her spine, and when he met her eyes and she caught that wicked twinkle, need throbbed between her thighs.
She gasped as a realization came over her. I’m… happy. Beyond that, she felt content. No longer did she want to lose herself in the emotional storms that had battered her for the last few months. Would it last? Again, she looked at Royce. With his help, she could learn how to live with them, and what a marvelous thing that was, this having hope.
The vicar closed his book. He beamed at the assembled company. “I’m pleased to say I now pronounce thee husband and wife. May the Lord smile upon your new life. If you’ll step over to that table, my clerk will direct you to sign a few papers.”
In a daze, Isobel followed Royce’s lead. After she left her signature where indicated, her family surged around her, all offering hugs, kisses, and enthusiastic congratulations until her head spun and she wished she hadn’t become temporarily separated from her new husband. But Cousin Andrew beamed at her as if he’d been the one to bring about the union, and William had suspicious traces of moisture in his eyes as he, too, smiled at her.
“I couldn’t be prouder of you, Cousin Isobel,” Andrew said as he engulfed her in a hug that had the power to rearrange her bones. When he set her aside, his wife Sarah came forward to kiss her cheek.
“Don’t mind Hadleigh’s excitement.” Amusement danced in her eyes behind the spectacle lenses. She held her nearly four-month-old baby girl in her arms. “We are both beyond pleased at the match you’ve made.” Once more she came close and said in a whisper, “If you should need advice on anything, please don’t hesitate to come to me.”
“Thank you.” Then she accepted a hug from her aunt.
“You are radiant today, my dear. Your mother would have been so proud.”
Tears sprang to Isobel’s eyes. “I appreciate that. Somehow, I think she knew this would happen when I told her about Royce.”
“I know she did.” Her aunt patted Isobel’s cheek. Fondness lingered in her eyes amidst grief. “She and I talked shortly before she passed. Oh, she was so happy you’d found a man who might accept you as you are and who might temper your emotions.”
Isobel nodded. She wiped at a tear that fell to her cheek. “Royce—er rather Worchester—is surprising in every way.”
“I’m glad, dear.” Then she moved on to speak with the doctor. Lady Jane and Finn came to take her place.