Page 82 of The Mistletoe Dare

I would have liked you all here to wish me happy, but I think Rochford might have done himself an injury if I’d asked him to wait until spring. Especially now Papa has given his permission. So the next time you see me, I shall be Her Grace, the Duchess of Rochford.

―Excerpt of a letter from Lady Georgina Anderson (daughter of Ruth and Gordon Anderson, The Earl and Countess of Morven) to the rest of the Daring Daughters.

5th March 1841, Wildsyde Castle, Scotland.

They were married in the kirk at Canisbay. It was a plain building, stark in its simplicity, but elegant too, and bloody freezing on a fresh March morning. The congregation’s breath clouded about them as the bride and groom exchanged vows and Lady Georgina Anderson became the Duchess of Rochford.

Rochford had been a bag of nerves all morning and was well aware he was lucky that Joe hadn’t beaten him to death with a flat iron. He’d been surly, impatient, and sick with anxiety, until Joe had sat him down with a large glass of whisky and reassured him Georgie was not about to run away at the last minute.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Joe said, exasperated. “Like you hung the moon, you daft beggar. Now the last time I told you not to bollocks it up, did you listen? No, you did not. So, keep your trap shut and get through the bloody service, and then she’s stuck with you, the poor, sweet child. Lord above, she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.”

With no one else to talk him down, and no better advice on offer, Rochford had done as he was told and made it to the kirk without anyone doing him an injury. Even the bride’s father, which was a miracle.

Now he stood with his new wife beside him, and the minister had told him he might kiss the bride. He let out an unsteady breath and reached for the heavy lace that covered her beautiful face, uncertain if he was eager or reluctant to see her expression. Steeling himself, he drew back the veil with hands that felt clumsy and too large to handle the fragile material and found his wife beaming at him. Rochford was fairly certain his heart stopped beating before restarting with a thud hard enough to break a rib.

“Get on with it, then,” she whispered.

Rochford felt the smile curve over his lips, tugging at the scar as his grin widened. Obediently, he ducked his head and kissed his bride.

The wedding breakfast was lavish, merry, and mercifully brief. The Anderson family welcomed Rochford more warmly than he felt he had any right to expect, considering he was stealing their only daughter away. Georgie’s brothers did corner him, however, when he left the breakfast to instruct his staff to prepare for their departure.

He was making his way back to the party when the three of them stepped in front of him, blocking the corridor.

“A bit late now,” Rochford said dryly. “If you wanted to frighten me off, it would have been better done last week.”

“Perhaps we just want to make her a wealthy widow,” Muir suggested, smirking.

Lyall glowered at him, and Muir subsided with a huff.

“We’ve something to say,” Hamilton cut in, which was obvious enough.

“Out with it, then,” Rochford said, folding his arms.

It was rare to come across men who could look him in the eye, but these three were the closest he’d ever seen. They were built like their father, and like the castle they stood in, ready to endure anything.

The eldest spoke then, his voice soft, but no less forceful for it. Rochford thought it might be the first time he’d heard him speak the entire time he’d been in Scotland.

“Ye had best make her happy, Rochford. She’s a good girl, and she’s not half so tough as she makes out. Ye’ll look out for her, aye?”

“I’d protect her with my last breath. I’ll not hurt her. You’ve my word.”

Lyall nodded. “Make sure of it, for if she has any cause for complaint, we’ll know, and we’ll come for ye.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Rochford said gravely.

Apparently, this had been the correct response, as Lyall’s grin was quick and rather devilish. Rochford shook his and his brothers’ hands, and the four men returned to the wedding breakfast without bloodshed.

Georgie dithered outside the carriage as she said goodbye to her family. For now they were only travelling to Rochford’s property in Wick for their wedding night, before carrying on to Mulcaster the next day. Yet it felt as if she were leaving for the other side of the world, her life was changing so profoundly.

Mama had sobbed audibly whilst they’d said their vows and was weeping still, though she swore they were happy tears. Pa was scowling, which meant he was feeling too much to speak and did not know what to do with himself.

Georgie hugged her brothers in turn and endured their good-natured teasing, whilst she stuck her nose in the air and told them they must treat her with respect now that she was a duchess. Naturally, this had them all falling about laughing.

Mama stopped crying long enough to kiss her and to tell her not to forget the advice she’d given her last night… a comment which made Georgie blush and set her brothers off howling again until her father told them to belt up before he made them.

Georgie walked to her Pa, who swallowed hard and looked as if he were facing a firing squad, his expression was so resolute.

“I’ll be back in the spring, Pa. Rochford promised,” she said, taking hold of his fingers as she had when she was a little girl.