Was she regretful that she had deceived the duke? Was her conscience bothering her over it? Did she feel guilty that Cally was so unhappy? Yes, she did, but no one had forced Cally to marry Valerian Hawkesworth. She had taken one look at his handsome face, considered the elevated social position she would attain, and agreed. I will not accept responsibility for my sister's unhappiness, Aurora decided.

That still left the problem of why she kept seeing Hawkesworth's face in her daydreams, even when she was contemplating the deliciously sensual St. John. Both were tall and lean. St. John had an attractive face with good features, but Valerian was extremely handsome, his face a combination of angles and planes. This is ridiculous, Aurora thought. It makes no difference what they look like. That cannot be the reason that I keep imagining Valerian instead of St. John in my dreams. Yet, I am not aware that I feel anything for the duke but irritation. I do not think I have ever met any man who so annoyed me. That is not love. Even with my inexperience I am wise enough to know that. I don't know why I keep thinking of him, but I will not do it any longer. I will not! It is disloyal to my dear St. John. George is wrong. St. John does love me. I am certain of it. Did he not say he had never felt for any woman what he felt for me? It must be love, and I will not allow Valerian Hawkesworth to spoil my happiness. I won't!


Chapter 10

George Spencer-Kimberly and Miss Elizabeth Bowen were married on the thirtieth of October. It was a bright and crisp afternoon. The villagers had gathered outside St. Anne's to catch a glimpse of the bridal party. It was almost like family, for the Bowens had lived in Farminster for eleven generations, and there were several of those standing in the crowd who had not only seen Betsy Bowen grow up, but her father, Sir Ronald, as well.

It was a small affair with only close friends and nearby family invited. Almost everyone was known to the villagers. The bridegroom arrived on horseback with Mr. St. John and the duke. The ducal coach stopped directly before the church path to debark the old dowager, quite regal in burgundy velvet trimmed in beaver. Her snowy hair was piled high and had two fine plumes in it. Miss Spencer-Kimberly followed the dowager, quite pretty in dark green velvet, her ringlets bobbing. But then, to the onlookers' surprise, an open sedan chair was brought up to the coach and the young duchess was helped out and into the conveyance that was then carried into the church.

"She don't look good," an anonymous voice in the crowd said.

The dowager's sharp eyes swept the crowd for the speaker, but suddenly all was quiet. Linking her arm into Aurora's, they proceeded into St. Anne's. Inside, the church was filled with an air of expectancy. The midafternoon sun streamed through the stained glass windows, casting multicolored shadows on the oaken pews and stone floors. Fine white linen and autumn flowers adorned the altar with its gold candlesticks containing pure beeswax tapers. The two women proceeded to the front ducal pew and settled themselves. Calandra's sedan chair had been set in front of the pew so she might see everything from the best possible vantage point. St. John joined them, a quick smile on his lips as he greeted Cally, the dowager, and Aurora. The duke was to act as George's best man.

Lady Elsie nodded to them from across the aisle. Her eyes were red from weeping, and she clutched a sodden handkerchief. Her look was so woeful that the dowager leaned over, whispering softly to Aurora, "You would think her daughter were being forced into marriage with a monster, the silly woman!" Before Aurora might reply, however, the organ began to play a stately anthem, and the congregation arose to watch as the wedding ceremony began.

From the sacristy the bridegroom and the duke came forth to await the bride. Down the aisle tripped Misses Isabelle, Suzanne, Caroline, and Maryanne Bowen in yellow and white striped gowns, wreaths of late yellow roses in their hair. Now came Master William Bowen, aged ten, escorting the bride, who was radiant in her creamy taffeta gown with painted blue forget-me-nots, her hair piled atop her head, dressed with silk flowers and strings of pearls and lightly powdered. And awaiting them before the altar with George and the duke was the bride's father, who would marry the couple.

The ceremony was elegant yet simple. It was only the second wedding she had ever attended, Aurora thought as she watched her brother and his glowing bride. The church was peaceful, and it all seemed so right. How different it was from Cally's wedding in the hallway of the plantation house on that long-ago early spring day. Perhaps with God's blessing George's marriage would be a happier one than Cally's. Aurora hoped so with all her heart, but then, she knew Betsy and her brother would be happy. They already were, and it could only get better between them as the years went by because they were so well suited.

The newlyweds came down the aisle, smiling, the service over, their union formalized. They walked from the church to the cheers and good wishes of the villagers, the rest of the wedding party, and the guests following behind them to the vicarage, which was located on the other side of the churchyard. Aurora walked next to her sister, who despite her sedan chair looked exceedingly uncomfortable.

Are you all right?" Aurora asked.

"How could I be all right with this creature inside me?" Cally grumbled irritably. "Having to sit like this is horrible, and I can only imagine that I look a fright!"

"You can recline on a settee at the vicarage," Aurora said soothingly. "George and Betsy are so happy that you made the effort to come to the wedding, Cally."

"Why does George have to leave us?" Cally whined. "I don't want him to go, Aurora. I am afraid without George."

"That is so much nonsense, Cally," her sister chided her. "You were without George all those months before we arrived in England. And you know why George is going. He must run the plantation. Besides, do you want Mama left alone forever on St. Timothy?"

"I wish I could go with him," Cally whispered. "I wish it were two years ago, that Papa were alive, and we had never heard of Valerian Hawkesworth! If I had only known, Aurora, I would not have agreed to marry him. What if this creature I carry is not the son he wants? Then it will begin all over again, and I do not believe I could bear it!" Her voice had begun to have a hysterical edge to it.

"Calm yourself, Cally," Aurora said sternly. "This is our brother's wedding day. It is a happy time, and I will not have you spoiling it with an attack of the vapors! You will put a smile on your face, and you will speak politely with all who greet you. If you do not, I shall convince St. John, and believe me it will take little effort, to elope immediately, and I will leave you! You will not enjoy being alone with your dark thoughts and bad temper, I promise you!"

Calandra's defiance crumbled in the face of her sister's threat. She forced a wan smile onto her face. "You are hard," she murmured.

The front and rear drawing rooms of the vicarage were decorated with autumn flowers and branches of colored leaves and evergreens. Here the bride and groom received their guests and the many congratulations offered them. In the dining room the table was set with antique Irish linen and lace, silver candelabra, a silver bowl of late roses, and the bride's cake in the center of the table. There was champagne served from the duke's own cellars. Sir Ronald, a man of modest means, was extremely grateful for the Hawkesworths' generosity. A usually reserved man, he was expansive today in his delight over his daughter's excellent marriage. Betsy's union now joined his family in a tenuous marital connection with the Hawkesworths. This meant that he might seek just a bit higher for his other girls.

The wedding cake was cut, served, and eaten. The toasts were drunk to the couple's good fortune and happiness. Betsy discreetly hurried upstairs to remove her bridal finery and get into her traveling costume, aided by her sisters and her still-weepy mother. George was also nowhere to be seen, having gone to change from his satin breeches into something more practical for the road. The young couple would spend the next few days upon the road, making their way to London, and the vessel that would take them to St. Timothy.

Again Valerian Hawkesworth had shown an openhanded munificence. George and his bride would travel in the duke's large traveling coach. A baggage wagon would follow, overseen by Wickham and Betsy's maid. The newlyweds would spend three days in London at Farminster House before boarding the Royal George for their trip to St. Timothy. The duke had paid the first-class passage for the bridal couple so they might travel in the utmost comfort and privacy on this, their honeymoon voyage.

Dressed for travel, George Spencer-Kimberly came to bid his two sisters farewell. Cally could not help weeping. "I feel that I will never see you again," she sobbed piteously, but he reassured her fear as he always had since they were children.

"We'll come for a visit in five years' time, little sister," he told her. "Perhaps we will even be able to persuade Mama to come then."

"And our children will get to know one another," Aurora said cheerily. "Mama will be in her glory with all her grandchildren gathered about her, don't you think, Cally?"

Cally sniffled, and nodded slowly.

George now turned to Aurora. "You are certain?" he said meaningfully, looking directly at her. "I want you happy with St. John, and not miserable like our poor Cally." His hands rested lightly upon her shoulders, his eyes filled with concern.

"I am as sure as any woman can be," she answered him. "It is a good match, and I believe we suit, George. What more can there be but that. At least I do not fear the marriage bed like our sister."

"No"-his hazel eyes twinkled at her-"you do not, I suspect, but more than that I do not want to know," he chuckled. Then he kissed her upon the forehead, hugging her to him. "Be happy, dearest Aurora!"

"I will, George," she promised him.

He turned his attention back to Calandra, pulling her gently to her feet and embracing her, kissing her upon both cheeks. "Try and be good, Cally," he said softly. "In the end you will find that hearthside and children are the happiest life for a woman."

"Nonsense!" Cally replied with a touch of her old spirit. Then she sat back down again heavily. "Give Mama my love."

"Together," George said. "Forever," Cally replied. "As one!" Aurora finished.

"The bouquet! Betsy is going to toss her bouquet!" came the cry from the hallway. "Come along, girls!"

Giggling, pushing, and shoving for the best position, all the unmarried ladies hurried into the hallway, where Betsy stood halfway up the staircase, the now slightly wilting flowers clutched in her hand.

"Come on!" George pulled Aurora by the hand and pushed her into the fray.

"One! Two! Three!" chorused the other guests, and then the bride pitched her bouquet, which seemingly by magic went directly into Aurora's outstretched hands. She caught it, laughing, and blew a kiss in St. John's direction.

"Oh, that's not fair!" Isabelle Bowen protested. "We all know that Aurora will soon be married! She already wears the St. John betrothal ring."

"You're too young to be married yet, Bella," the new Mistress Spencer-Kimberly said with a smile. "Whoever catches the bouquet must wed within a year, or no one else present can marry. That is the rule. Do you want every girl in the county waiting for you to make up your mind regarding some young man? We all know that you have a terrible time deciding things!"

There were nods and chuckles of agreement all around. Then, before Isabelle could protest, the bridal couple was making its final farewells, climbing into the coach and departing. As the vehicle made its way down the drive with both Betsy and George hanging out its window, smiling happily and waving, Lady Elsie burst into fulsome tears, joined by her daughters, who continued waving weepily at the retreating carriage.

"Good grief!" the dowager muttered. "Where is our transport? I do not intend to stand here and be drowned by the tears of that silly woman and her four remaining chits. Valerian! Fetch the coach!" She turned her attention to her host and hostess. "A lovely wedding," she murmured. "May I thank you on behalf of the entire family, but we must be going. The duchess cannot take any more excitement, y'know. It was quite an effort for her to come, you understand. Good-bye! Good-bye!"