Richard launched forward, leaping over the low table in between, and bowled bodily into the earl. They crashed into the wall and his sword flew out of his hand. He compensated quickly, his fist a blur as it swung upward and made contact with the earl’s left temple, the stricken man’s eyes glazing and rolling back into his head moments before he bonelessly toppled to the floor.
Richard knelt, checking his pulse to assure he was alive and then peeling back an eyelid to assure he was deeply unconscious. Satisfied on both counts, Richard then turned to Simone.
She stood taut and straight, her eyes glittering with residual anger and gradually dawning happiness. Her cheeks were flushed, hair loose and disheveled, chest heaving with ragged inhalations, and the only thought that went through Richard’s mind was that she looked absolutely ravishing!
“You came,” she said simply.
“I came,” he responded.
And then the stasis broke. They crossed the short space between, arms embracing fiercely and mouths crushing together in a passionate kiss.
Artois nudged Warren, both men smirking as they backed out of the room.
“He always has all the fun,” Warren grumbled good-naturally.
“True. But no one knows the truth but us three, so the tale can be spun to our advantage. At least our wives can think we are the heroes and that should earn us more than a kiss.”
The marriage of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam and Lady Simone Fotherby took place three weeks after Christmas in the small chapel attached to the Fotherby estate in Buckinghamshire. It was a humble ceremony and reception with the bride wearing an unpretentious pale yellow gown that accented her stunningly youthful blonde coloring and glowing mien. She walked down the aisle preceded by her two sons tossing rose petals and escorted proudly by her stepson, Lord Oliver Fotherby, with eyes only on her earnestly waiting groom. The Colonel wore his most elaborate dress uniform with the wealth of earned medals adorning his chest polished until gleaming, wool tailored to perfection for his stocky physique, and a countenance beaming with transcendent joy.
The intimate gathering of friends and family were unified in their happiness for the couple. How could anyone feel otherwise when the two were so forthright in their giddy elation? The sacred vows were exchanged before the altar with due solemnity only broken for a second when Richard glanced toward Darcy, who winked and grinned. Many in the audience knew of the tortuous road these two had traversed to reach this place as the scandals surrounding Lord Wellson’s murder and the formal severing with her father, Lord Wrexham, were now common knowledge. But only a handful knew the full extent of the trauma, and thus rejoiced in the union finally coming to fruition.
Congratulations and blessings were abundant. Darcy was uncharacteristically effusive in his felicitations, saving the best of his teases for after the honeymoon. Lizzy did not hesitate in kissing her cousin smartly on the cheek and hugging his new bride. Dr. George Darcy was as effusive as his nephew and did not reserve his teasing. Raul and Anne Penaflor were genuine in their well wishes while Lady Catherine de Bourgh nodded politely. Lord Matlock was stately, as was Lady Matlock, but the controlled tears in their eyes spoke volumes. Jonathan clapped his brother on the back and offered a lusty “well done” while Priscilla tried not to express her chagrin over the younger brother marrying a woman of higher rank. Lord Montgomery accompanied his wife to her brother’s nuptials, although he looked positively bored stiff with the procedure, but Lady Annabella Montgomery was surprisingly moved by her brother’s happiness and bestowed a heartfelt kiss and embrace.
Georgiana extended sincere congratulations and wishes for eternal happiness to the couple. Simone embraced her young cousin in true joy and understanding of the circumstances, Richard having divulged his tumultuous emotions during their separation. The groom, however, avoided Georgiana’s eyes. His remorse and discomfort were evident, feelings that were ridiculous as Simone and Georgiana genuinely liked each other and neither woman wished for anything but his happiness. It was a strained situation that pained all three of them.
A number of Richard’s friends and military associates were present, each delighted to be a part of witnessing the long-time bachelor finally succumb. The Vernors, Sitwells, Hugheses, and Bingleys were in attendance, as were a select group of Lady Fotherby’s lifelong friends and her three sisters. Considering the prominence of the bride it was a modest assembly, many in Society shocked and angered to be denied an invitation; but Simone was unfazed. She readily embraced life as wife to an ordinary gentleman, who in her eyes was extraordinary in every possible way.
“So, Cousin, how is matrimony suiting you thus far?”
“I have been married for exactly one hour, Darcy, so aside from wishing desperately that I was alone with my bride, I do not think I can give an explicit accounting of the matrimonial state. Ask me again in a month or so.”
“Indeed I will. If you are then ready to quit your bedchamber for an evening with me.”
“Remember that I am marrying a woman with children so will undoubtedly not have as much time to dally in my conjugal bed as you probably did.”
He grinned at his cousin, Darcy grinning in return.
“Young Lord Fotherby appears healthy at the moment.”
“He was slow to recover from the poor medical management administered by Wrexham’s quack,” Richard said with bitterness. “Simone lost too many hours of sleep worrying over him, another reason her father deserves to be shot for what he did.”
Unfortunately, the most Lord Wrexham would suffer as a result of his crime was a left arm that pained him and had limited mobility. It was monumentally unfair, but Simone had no legal recourse, as there was no proof that she was detained against her will unless she chose to launch an extended investigation. Since this would likely be a fruitless effort in light of her father’s wealth and influence, it was not worth further scandal that might harm her children. Harry and Hugh were young enough to be innocently unaware of the drama. Oliver’s sequelae was serious, his condition critically worsened due to nearly two months of mistreatment. But in the end, that too may have been an odd blessing as Dr. Angless collaborated with the Fotherby family physician, as well as Dr. Darcy putting his superior intellect and unique experience to the mix, and a new plan was devised for the mysterious ailment. Oliver was responding favorably, a great deal of his gaiety and heartiness undoubtedly the result of observing the only mother he had ever known glowing with happiness.
“You a father,” Darcy teased, noting the fond smile on Richard’s face as he watched Hugh, Harry, and Oliver laughing as they exhaled on a cold window and drew pictures in the vapor. “Who would have thought it?”
“Not I,” Richard said with a laugh. “Far too much responsibility for me. Simone must be crazy.”
“Maybe,” Darcy agreed with a grin. “Do you think you will miss it?” He nodded toward the mass of medals adorning Richard’s chest.
“At times I am sure I will. It is hard to fathom no longer being a part of what has been essentially my family and identification for nearly as long as I can remember, but I am prepared to enter a new phase of life and identity as husband, father, and estate manager. I gave the matter intense contemplation, as you know, and it is for the best. I cannot be the husband she deserves if I am encumbered with my professional duties. Nor do I want to run the risk of another war or being deployed. I will not be parted from her, Darcy, not ever again.”