Once and Always
Page 74
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“Now, may I proceed?” whispered the archbishop indignantly.
Jason’s lips twitched. “Please do.”
As the archbishop began reading the long service, Charles gazed joyously upon the bride and groom, his heart swelling until it felt ready to burst, but a flash of purple seen from the corner of his eye combined with an eerie feeling that he was being watched suddenly drew his attention. He glanced sideways, then stiffened in shock as his eyes clashed with the pale blue ones belonging to the Duchess of Claremont. Charles stared at her, his face alive with cold triumph; then, with a final contemptuous glance, he turned from her and pushed her presence from his mind. He watched as his son stood beside Victoria, two proud, beautiful young people taking vows that would unite them forever. Tears stung his eyes as the archbishop intoned, “Do you, Victoria Seaton . . .”
“Katherine, my love,” Charles whispered to her in his heart, “do you see our children here? Aren’t they beautiful together? Your grandmother kept us from having children of our own, my darling—that victory was hers, but this one is ours. We shall have grandchildren instead, my sweet. My sweet, beautiful Katherine, we shall have grandchildren. ...” Charles bent his head, unwilling to let the old woman across the aisle see that he was crying. But the Duchess of Claremont could see nothing through the tears that were falling from her own eyes and racing down her wrinkled cheeks. “Katherine, my love,” she whispered to her in her heart, “look what I have done. In my stupid, blind selfishness I prevented you from marrying him and having children with him. But now I have arranged it so that you shall have grandchildren instead. Oh, Katherine, I loved you so. I wanted you to have the world at your feet, and I wouldn’t believe that all you wanted was him. . . .”
When the archbishop asked Victoria to repeat her vows, she remembered her bargain to make it appear to everyone that she was deeply attached to Jason. Raising her face to his, she tried to speak out clearly and confidently, but when she was promising to love him, Jason’s gaze suddenly lifted toward the domed ceiling of the church, and a sardonic smile tugged at his lips. Victoria realized he was watching for lightning to strike the roof, and her tension dissolved into a muffled giggle, which earned a deeply censorious frown from the archbishop.
Victoria’s mirth vanished abruptly as Jason’s deep, resonant voice echoed through the church, endowing her with all his worldly goods. And then it was over. “You may kiss the bride,” the archbishop said.
Jason turned and looked at her, his eyes gleaming with a triumph that was so intense, so unexpected, and so terrifying that Victoria stiffened when his arms encircled her. Bending his head, he claimed her trembling lips in a long, bold kiss that caused the archbishop to glower and several guests to chuckle; then he released her and took her arm.
“My lord,” she whispered imploringly as they walked up the aisle toward the doors leading from the church, “please—I can’t keep up with you.”
“Call me Jason,” he snapped, but he slowed down. “And the next time I kiss you, pretend you like it.”
His icy tone hit her like a bucketful of freezing water, but somehow Victoria managed to stand between Charles and Jason outside the church and smile tightly at all of the 800 guests who paused to wish them both happy.
Charles turned aside to talk to one of his friends just as the last guest emerged from the church, leaning heavily on the jeweled handle of her ebony cane.
Ignoring Jason completely, the duchess approached Victoria, peering steadily into her blue eyes. “Do you know who I am?” she demanded without preamble when Victoria smiled politely at her.
“No, ma’am,” Victoria said. “I’m very sorry, but I do not. I believe I’ve seen you somewhere before, for you look familiar, and yet—”
“I am your great-grandmother.”
Victoria’s hand tightened spasmodically on Jason’s arm. This was her great-grandmother, the woman who had refused to offer her shelter and who had destroyed her mother’s happiness. Victoria’s chin lifted. “I have no great-grandmother,” she said with deadly calm.
This flat denouncement had a very odd effect on the dowager duchess. Her eyes glowed with admiration and a hint of a smile softened her stern features. “Oh, but you do, my dear,” she said. “You do,” she repeated almost fondly. “You are very like your mother in looks, but that defiant pride of yours came from me.” She chuckled, shaking her head as Victoria started to argue. “No—do not bother to disavow my existence again, for my blood flows in your veins and it is my own stubbornness I see in your chin. Your mother’s eyes, my willfulness—”
“Stay away from her!” Charles hissed furiously, his head jerking around. “Get out of here!”
The duchess stiffened and her eyes snapped with anger. “Don’t you dare use that tone on me, Atherton, or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” Charles bit out savagely. “Don’t bother to threaten me. I have everything I want now.”
The Dowager Duchess of Claremont regarded him down the full length of her aristocratic nose, her expression triumphant. “You have it because I gave it to you, you fool.” ignoring Charles’s stunned, furious stare, she turned to Victoria again and her eyes warmed. Reaching out, she laid her frail hand against Victoria’s cheek while moisture misted her eyes. “Perhaps you will come to Claremont House to see Dorothy when she returns from France. It has not been easy keeping her away from you, but she would have spoiled everything with her foolish chatter about old scand—old gossip,” the duchess corrected quickly.
She turned to Jason then and her expression became very severe. “I am entrusting my great-granddaughter into your keeping, Wakefield, but I shall hold you personally responsible for her happiness, is that clear?”
“Quite clear,” he said in a solemn voice, but he eyed the tiny woman who was issuing vague threats to him with thinly veiled amusement.
The duchess scrutinized his tranquil features sharply, then nodded. “So long as we understand one another, I will take my leave.” She lifted her wrist. “You may kiss my hand.”
With perfect equanimity, Jason took her upraised hand in his and pressed a gallant kiss to the back of it.
Turning to Victoria, the duchess said bleakly, “I suppose it would be too much to ask—?” Victoria could make little sense of what had transpired in the minutes since her great-grandmother had walked up to her, but she knew beyond any doubt that the emotion she saw in the old woman’s eyes was love—love, and a terrible regret.
Jason’s lips twitched. “Please do.”
As the archbishop began reading the long service, Charles gazed joyously upon the bride and groom, his heart swelling until it felt ready to burst, but a flash of purple seen from the corner of his eye combined with an eerie feeling that he was being watched suddenly drew his attention. He glanced sideways, then stiffened in shock as his eyes clashed with the pale blue ones belonging to the Duchess of Claremont. Charles stared at her, his face alive with cold triumph; then, with a final contemptuous glance, he turned from her and pushed her presence from his mind. He watched as his son stood beside Victoria, two proud, beautiful young people taking vows that would unite them forever. Tears stung his eyes as the archbishop intoned, “Do you, Victoria Seaton . . .”
“Katherine, my love,” Charles whispered to her in his heart, “do you see our children here? Aren’t they beautiful together? Your grandmother kept us from having children of our own, my darling—that victory was hers, but this one is ours. We shall have grandchildren instead, my sweet. My sweet, beautiful Katherine, we shall have grandchildren. ...” Charles bent his head, unwilling to let the old woman across the aisle see that he was crying. But the Duchess of Claremont could see nothing through the tears that were falling from her own eyes and racing down her wrinkled cheeks. “Katherine, my love,” she whispered to her in her heart, “look what I have done. In my stupid, blind selfishness I prevented you from marrying him and having children with him. But now I have arranged it so that you shall have grandchildren instead. Oh, Katherine, I loved you so. I wanted you to have the world at your feet, and I wouldn’t believe that all you wanted was him. . . .”
When the archbishop asked Victoria to repeat her vows, she remembered her bargain to make it appear to everyone that she was deeply attached to Jason. Raising her face to his, she tried to speak out clearly and confidently, but when she was promising to love him, Jason’s gaze suddenly lifted toward the domed ceiling of the church, and a sardonic smile tugged at his lips. Victoria realized he was watching for lightning to strike the roof, and her tension dissolved into a muffled giggle, which earned a deeply censorious frown from the archbishop.
Victoria’s mirth vanished abruptly as Jason’s deep, resonant voice echoed through the church, endowing her with all his worldly goods. And then it was over. “You may kiss the bride,” the archbishop said.
Jason turned and looked at her, his eyes gleaming with a triumph that was so intense, so unexpected, and so terrifying that Victoria stiffened when his arms encircled her. Bending his head, he claimed her trembling lips in a long, bold kiss that caused the archbishop to glower and several guests to chuckle; then he released her and took her arm.
“My lord,” she whispered imploringly as they walked up the aisle toward the doors leading from the church, “please—I can’t keep up with you.”
“Call me Jason,” he snapped, but he slowed down. “And the next time I kiss you, pretend you like it.”
His icy tone hit her like a bucketful of freezing water, but somehow Victoria managed to stand between Charles and Jason outside the church and smile tightly at all of the 800 guests who paused to wish them both happy.
Charles turned aside to talk to one of his friends just as the last guest emerged from the church, leaning heavily on the jeweled handle of her ebony cane.
Ignoring Jason completely, the duchess approached Victoria, peering steadily into her blue eyes. “Do you know who I am?” she demanded without preamble when Victoria smiled politely at her.
“No, ma’am,” Victoria said. “I’m very sorry, but I do not. I believe I’ve seen you somewhere before, for you look familiar, and yet—”
“I am your great-grandmother.”
Victoria’s hand tightened spasmodically on Jason’s arm. This was her great-grandmother, the woman who had refused to offer her shelter and who had destroyed her mother’s happiness. Victoria’s chin lifted. “I have no great-grandmother,” she said with deadly calm.
This flat denouncement had a very odd effect on the dowager duchess. Her eyes glowed with admiration and a hint of a smile softened her stern features. “Oh, but you do, my dear,” she said. “You do,” she repeated almost fondly. “You are very like your mother in looks, but that defiant pride of yours came from me.” She chuckled, shaking her head as Victoria started to argue. “No—do not bother to disavow my existence again, for my blood flows in your veins and it is my own stubbornness I see in your chin. Your mother’s eyes, my willfulness—”
“Stay away from her!” Charles hissed furiously, his head jerking around. “Get out of here!”
The duchess stiffened and her eyes snapped with anger. “Don’t you dare use that tone on me, Atherton, or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” Charles bit out savagely. “Don’t bother to threaten me. I have everything I want now.”
The Dowager Duchess of Claremont regarded him down the full length of her aristocratic nose, her expression triumphant. “You have it because I gave it to you, you fool.” ignoring Charles’s stunned, furious stare, she turned to Victoria again and her eyes warmed. Reaching out, she laid her frail hand against Victoria’s cheek while moisture misted her eyes. “Perhaps you will come to Claremont House to see Dorothy when she returns from France. It has not been easy keeping her away from you, but she would have spoiled everything with her foolish chatter about old scand—old gossip,” the duchess corrected quickly.
She turned to Jason then and her expression became very severe. “I am entrusting my great-granddaughter into your keeping, Wakefield, but I shall hold you personally responsible for her happiness, is that clear?”
“Quite clear,” he said in a solemn voice, but he eyed the tiny woman who was issuing vague threats to him with thinly veiled amusement.
The duchess scrutinized his tranquil features sharply, then nodded. “So long as we understand one another, I will take my leave.” She lifted her wrist. “You may kiss my hand.”
With perfect equanimity, Jason took her upraised hand in his and pressed a gallant kiss to the back of it.
Turning to Victoria, the duchess said bleakly, “I suppose it would be too much to ask—?” Victoria could make little sense of what had transpired in the minutes since her great-grandmother had walked up to her, but she knew beyond any doubt that the emotion she saw in the old woman’s eyes was love—love, and a terrible regret.
