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It was more than enough in the circumstances. And probably quite more than she deserved.
* * *
Jackson wandered restlessly around his study with a glass of brandy in hand. It had been a very busy day. He had a meeting with the Archbishop of Canterbury to procure the special licence they needed to wed.
He smiled ruefully, recalling the meeting. His Grace had to be persuaded, of course. A special licence was not given out every day. Jackson was lucky that he was titled and wealthy. It was unheard of for untitled folk to procure one, he had had to pay five pounds for the privilege.
But it was done.
In two days hewasgoing to wed Lady Patricia Hunter.
After getting the licence, he had booked the church. Then he had walked into his favorite tailor on Regent Street to order his clothes for the day. Old Mr. Gilbert, as soon as he was told what the clothes were for, offered his hearty congratulations, grinning from ear to ear. He had left the tailor in a great mood.
The rest of the day had been spent organizing flowers for the great hall and consulting with the servants about the wedding breakfast. Gordon, his butler, was more than capable of overseeing it all – the servants at St. James were used to grand parties. Cook was already in a frenzy, ordering pheasant and geese and probably the fatted calf as well. She promised the cake was going to be a three-tiered extravaganza of sponge and marzipan, the best that she had ever made.
He sat down, putting his feet up. And then, there had been the ring.
It was Gordon who had reminded him that his bride would need a ring. He had almost forgotten that detail entirely. He had hastily ordered the carriage and arrived at the jewellers on Bond Street just before it closed for the day. He knew he still had time, but it was something he wanted to do now.
The jeweller, once apprised of what he was after, quickly showed him a variety of gold bands, each more elaborate and expensive than the last. For some reason, none of them appealed to him. Eventually, he had left, promising to return again tomorrow. When he had arrived back at St. James he had sat for a moment, not knowing why he had rejected them. They were perfectly acceptable, after all, and cost a pretty penny.
Jackson opened the top drawer of the desk, taking out a small jewellery case, covered in blue velvet. It was only after he had dined for the evening that he remembered it was here. His mother’s jewellery case. His father had always kept it in his desk. And now, of course, it belonged to him.
He opened it, looking at the pieces within. Most of the more expensive pieces that his mother had once worn, as Duchess of Merriweather, were under tight lock and key. They belonged to the duchy and were treated like any other valuable pieces of merchandise. The jewellery in this case were personal. Perhaps necklaces, rings, and brooches that had belonged to her since she was a girl, or his father had given her after their marriage.
He reached out, taking a ring, turning it slowly in his fingers so that it glinted in the soft candlelight. His mother’s wedding ring.
It was a plain gold band, obviously expensive, but not elaborate. Inside the perimeter it was engraved with a single line, in cursive script.
Three things will last forever – faith, hope and love – and the greatest of these is love.
He put down the ring, gazing at it. He didn’t know why, but the line from Corinthians touched him. The thought that his grim, frightening father had once been a young man so in love with his bride that he had engraved this on her wedding ring was somehow beautiful. Jackson had never known his mother, but he always wished that he had. Idly he wondered why his mother had not been buried wearing it. He supposed his father had taken it off her finger as an eternal reminder of her.
It would be a fitting tribute to both of them if he gave this ring to his own bride.
His heart lurched. It was hardly the love match that his parents had. He barely knew Lady Patricia. They hadn’t slowly courted and fallen in love. But hedidadmire her, and like her, and he well knew that he desired her. Was it too much to hope that love could grow between them? That perhaps they might one day be the love match that his parents had been?
Perhaps giving her this ring, with its faded message of old, enduring love, might be a good omen for the start of their married life together.
Carefully, he put the ring and jewellery case away. He would take it out again on the day and put it in the breast pocket of his jacket, and then he would slip it onto her finger. A circle of faith, hope…and maybe one day, love.
He reached up, touching the scar on his right cheek. He had always thought that love was out of his reach. One gash of a sword had ended his chances of it forever. But now, with the Lady Patricia, that hope reared up again as bright and bold as a new sun hovering over the horizon. He felt like he could almost reach out and touch it.
* * *
Patricia slowly opened her eyes. Sunlight was peeking underneath the heavy velvet drapes on her chamber windows. For a moment, her eyelids fluttered, still heavy with sleep. It would not take much to turn over in the bed and drift away once again.
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright in the bed, her heart hammering wildly.
It was her wedding day.
Her eyes drifted to the wedding gown, hanging on the outside of her wardrobe. It had been carefully pressed again as soon as it had been taken out of its pink box. She had tried it on under her mother’s eagle eye, to see that it did indeed fit perfectly. She knew that if there had been even one minor flaw – a gaping arm, a row of imperfect stitches – her mother would have sent it back to Mrs. Hedley immediately.
But there had been no need. The gown was perfection itself.
She gasped. There wasn’t much time, before Dulcie and her mother would enter the room, preparing her for the wedding. Already she could hear frantic footsteps on the hallway outside her chambers. She only had a few moments at most to herself before she would be swept away on a frenzied tide of preparation so that she would make the church on time.
She held up her hands, appalled to discover that they were shaking. She was going to be a bride. She was going to become a wife. It was the most important day in her life. Her whole existence had been geared toward it, as it was with all ladies. And now, it was finally upon her.
