Chapter 6

The next day, a package addressed to Ellie arrived by special messenger. Curious, she untied the string, pausing when an envelope fluttered out. She reached down to the floor, picked up the envelope, and opened it.

My dear Eleanor,
Please accept this gift as a token of my esteem and affection. You looked so lovely in green the other day. I thought you might like to be married in it.
P.S. Please do not cover your hair.
Ellie could barely suppress a gasp when she felt her fingers touch luxurious velvet. She pulled aside the rest of the wrappings to reveal the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen—much less had the opportunity to wear. Fashioned of the deepest emerald velvet, it was simply cut, without flounces or ruffles. Ellie knew it would suit her perfectly.

With any luck, the man who'd given it to her would suit her as well.

* * *

The morning of her wedding dawned bright and clear. A carriage arrived to carry Ellie, her father, and Mrs. Foxglove to Wycombe Abbey, and Ellie truly felt like a fairy princess. The dress, the carriage, the impossibly handsome man waiting for her at the end of her journey—they all seemed like props in some glorious magical tale.

The ceremony was to take place in the formal drawing room of Wycombe Abbey. The Reverend Mr. Lyndon took his place at the front, then, much to everyone's amusement, let out a little yelp of dismay and rushed out of the room. "I have to give away the bride," he explained when he reached the door.

Further laughs ensued when he said, out of rote, "Who gives away this woman?" and then added, "Actually, I do."

But those moments of lightness did not ease Ellie's tension, and she felt her entire body clench up when her father prompted her to say, "I will."

Barely able to breathe, she looked over at the man who would be her husband. What was she doing? She hardly knew him.

She looked at her father, who was gazing at her with uncharacteristic nostalgia.

She looked over at Mrs. Foxglove, who had seemingly forgotten her plans to use Ellie as a human chimney brush and had spent the entire carriage ride over going on and on about how she'd always known that "dear Eleanor would make a splendid catch" and "my dear dear stepson-in-law, the earl."

"I will." Ellie blurted out. "Oh, I will."

Beside her, she could feel Charles shaking with laughter.

And then he slipped a heavy gold band onto the fourth finger of her left hand, and Ellie realized that in the eyes of God and England, she now belonged to the Earl of Billington. Forever.

For a woman who had always prided herself on her pluck, her knees felt suspiciously watery.

Mr. Lyndon completed the ceremony, and Charles leaned down and placed a fleeting kiss upon Ellie's lips. To an observer it was nothing more than a gentle peck, but Ellie felt his tongue flick along the corner of her mouth. Flustered by this hidden caress, she'd barely had time to regain her composure when Charles took her arm and led her over to a small group of individuals she assumed were his relatives.

"I did not have time to invite my entire family," he said, "but I wanted you to meet my cousins. May I introduce Mrs. George Pallister, Miss Pallister, and Miss Judith Pallister." He turned to the lady and two girls and smiled. "Helen, Claire, Judith, may I present my wife, Eleanor, Countess of Billington."

"How do you do," Ellie said, not sure if she was supposed to curtsy, or if perhaps they were supposed to curtsy, or if none of them needed to at all. So she just smiled in her most friendly manner. Helen, an attractive blond matron of about forty years, smiled back.

"Helen and her daughters live here at Wycombe Abbey," Charles said. "Since the death of Mr. Pallister."

"They do?" Ellie said with surprise. She looked at her new cousins. "You do?"

"Yes," Charles replied, "as does my maiden aunt Cordelia. I don't know where she's gone off to."

"She's a bit eccentric," Helen said helpfully. Claire, who looked to be thirteen or fourteen years old, said nothing, a sullen expression firmly fixed on her face.

"I'm sure we will get on very well," Ellie said. "I have always wanted to live in a large household. Mine has been quite lonely since my sister left."

"Eleanor's sister recently married the Earl of Macclesfield," Charles explained.

"Yes, but she left home many years before that," Ellie said wistfully. "It has been just my father and me for eight years."

"I have a sister, too!" Judith chirped. "Claire!"

Ellie smiled down at the young girl. "So you do. And how old are you, Judith?"

"I am six," she said proudly, flicking back her light brown hair. "And tomorrow I will be twelve."

Helen laughed. " 'Tomorrow' tends to mean any day in the future," she said, leaning down to kiss her daughter on the cheek. "First you must turn seven."

"And then twelve!"

Ellie crouched down. "Not quite, poppet. Then eight, then nine, then—"

"Ten, then eleven," Judith interrupted proudly, "and then twelve!"

"Correct," Ellie said.

"I can count to sixty-two."

"Is that so?" Ellie asked, using her best "impressed" voice.

"Mmm-hmm. One. Two. Three. Four—"

"Mother!" Claire said with a beleaguered sigh.

Helen took Judith by the hand. "Come along, little one. We will practice our counting another time."

Judith rolled her eyes at her mother before turning to Charles and saying, "Mama said it's high time you got married."