“Excellent,” she replied. “For I find them most attractive. I am marrying a man, not a lad. But one thing I would like to know…and it is a little delicate.”
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “What is it about this library that invites discussion of delicate matters?”
“Possibly the color of the rug. Or the vast array of books. But I must ask how you feel about children.”
He hesitated. “Neither here nor there. In the past I was quite content with my brother Tristan as my heir. He and his wife Tabitha will soon welcome their sixth child.”
“Goodness me,” Ada blurted, recoiling a little. “I was hoping you might be amiable to the thought of one. Perhaps two at the most. I would dearly love to be a mother, and soon, but have no desire to be endlessly pregnant. Too many sights to see and charitable works to undertake. Schoolrooms. I should like to supervise the building of a great many schoolrooms. And hospitals. Healthy minds and healthy bodies…are you…are you laughing at me, Your Grace?”
Jasper stood, stepped forward, and kissed her soundly. “I’m thinking how perfectly, splendidly wonderful you are. But really, if you are going to make significant requests like a dozen schoolrooms, hospitals, or a babe in your belly, you should at least put your spectacles on first.”
“Duly noted,” Ada replied, attempting to nod solemnly when she was about to burst with elation. “I wonder…must we return to the parlor?”
“Sometime soon, I suppose. But I’m quite sure Mother, Miss Lacey, and Miss Kinloch can wrangle a vicar and a curate. At least until the brandy runs out. After that the clergymen should probably start running.”
“I agree. And I do so adore this library.”
Indeed, the room would always hold a special place in her heart. Here, she had taken the first step in freeing her true self from the confines of her upbringing and society. Today, it had borne witness to the happiest moments of her life outside the old gamekeeper’s cottage.
How glorious to know with Jasper there would be so many more.
It was his wedding day.
Jasper peered at the looking glass as he attempted an elaborate arrangement of his silk cravat for the twentieth time. He’d not expected this, then again, he’d never expected to meet a woman like Ada. His sweetheart.
The battle between their families as to how the day should proceed had been amusing. His mother and Winslow had waxed lyrical over a grand ceremony at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London with half of society and the royal family in attendance, while Reverend Blair had unbent just enough to insist upon St. Mary’s in Charlton Kings with himself officiating.
But Ada had not wanted either option, so Jasper had suggested he travel to London for a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury at Doctors’ Commons, followed by an intimate private ceremony in the drawing room at Gilroy Park. She’d approved of that idea, and invitations had been sent to Tristan and Tabitha, Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch, Mr. Blair, and his mother and Winslow. Reverend Henry Foulkes, the brisk yet kindly vicar of St. Mary’s in Cheltenham for the past fifteen years, had agreed to officiate.
“You’re looking surprisingly well, brother.”
Jasper raised an eyebrow at Tristan as he sauntered into the bedchamber in his best man wedding finery, top hat dangling from one hand. “I would look better if this damned cravat would sit properly. Did you expect to find me hiding behind a curtain, perhaps? Curled up in the armoire?”
Tristan grinned. “I wasn’t sure. You’ve been disturbingly amiable since meeting Ada—don’t scowl, she gave me leave to use her given name—but wedding days can cause the hardiest of men to falter. I was so afraid Tabby would change her mind that I downed an entire hip flask of brandy prior to our ceremony.”
“I’m a little surprised no one tried to dissuade me from wedding Ada,” he said cautiously. “She is a vicar’s daughter, rather than a peer’s.”
“You are the duke. Marry whom you please. But it’s quite obvious to all and sundry that you are madly in love with each other, and that is what we wanted for you. Happiness.”
Jasper cleared his throat. “Do I look…well?”
“Hmmm. White silk cravat, muslin shirt, black tailed jacket, black knee breeches, stockings, and diamond-buckled shoes. I might think you lacked a sentimental touch, but the brown and gold embroidery on your waistcoat represent Ada’s eyes and hair, do they not?”
“Perhaps.”
His brother chortled and stepped closer to expertly arrange the recalcitrant cravat. “You are indeed in love. But I must urge you to hurry, if only for your bride-to-be’s sake. Mother, Tabby, Miss Lacey, and Miss Kinloch opened another bottle of brandy, and are now all cooing around her like a flock of mad doves. Mr. Blair is giving advice to Mr. Foulkes on the ceremony. We may in fact bear witness to the first drawing room duel between two men of the cloth.”
“Hell and damnation,” said Jasper, smoothing his jacket sleeves. “I’m too old for such theatrics.”
“If you think that is theatrical, wait until society discovers England’s most eligible yet stubbornly unwed duke has returned to London with a village clergyman’s daughter wearing his ring.”
“Don’t remind me. Ada would prefer I not send a notice to the newspapers. She thinks that we should simply stroll into balls and soirees and say lovely to see you, charming decorations, surprise, we’re married.”
Tristan whistled. “I hope you have plenty of hartshorn on hand. That will cause a mass swoon to end all swoons, especially from Prinny. He so admired your string of short and strict contracts.”
“I’m sure he’ll recover,” said Jasper, rolling his eyes. What the foolish, spendthrift Prince of Wales thought of his marriage mattered not one whit. All that mattered was Ada. “Shall we proceed to the drawing room?”
“We shall. Tabby and I are so happy for you. We’ll be even happier when you fill that carved cradle down the hallway with an heir…too soon?”
“Far, far too soon,” he replied. That he’d been coming inside Ada at every opportunity in a quest to grant one of her dearest wishes was not something anyone else needed to know. “By the by, I’m not saying any of you were correct…but there might be a grain of truth in life brightening after meeting the right person.”
Tristan turned, his eyes glistening. “It’s the gospel truth.”
“Gah. You want to hug me, don’t you?”
“I really do.”
Jasper sighed. “Under the circumstances I will permit a brief celebratory embrace for the duration of approximately two seconds—”
His brother enveloped him in a bear hug. And didn’t let go.
“Here, now,” said Jasper as he awkwardly patted his brother’s back. Perhaps hugs weren’t the worst thing in the world. “You’ll undo your effort with my cravat.”
A few minutes later, they made their way downstairs to the drawing room. Mrs. Eden and her team of maids had been busy; they’d moved the furniture to fashion a sort of aisle with chairs either side, there was a plethora of flowers and ribbons, and a smiling Mr. Foulkes waited on a hastily constructed wooden dais, bible in hand.