Chapter Twelve
“Shall we, my dear?” Burke held out his arm to Portia. “Let’s go and join the others. Charlotte and I will have to leave shortly.”
A little puzzled by his formality, she took his arm, not without a certain amount of awkwardness. “This is rather silly for an evening at home, isn’t it? Who is going to stay with me? The queen herself?”
“Snippy.” He chuckled. “Don’t be sarcastic. It’s not the queen, because she has better things to do, I’m sure.”
“Really? Name two.”
“Not important.” Burke nipped the incipient conversation in the bud. He knew Portia’s fondness for a good scrappy argument. “But since we couldn’t get her Majesty, we managed to obtain a very appropriate alternative.”
He opened the door to the small salon and Portia nearly stumbled at sight of the tall man in a very formal uniform. “Oh my God.”
“Hello Miss Fielding. It’s lovely to see you again.” He glanced down at himself. “Please don’t shoot me this time?”
“Commander Moreton.” She choked a little. “What the hell-er-dickens are you doing here?”
She glanced at Devon, who was grinning from ear to ear, and at Charlotte, next to Commander Moreton, who was sporting an even bigger grin, if that were possible.
Then she turned to Burke and clutched his arm as a shiver of apprehension went through her. “James. What’s happening?”
He freed his arm and took both her hands in his. “Portia, Charlotte and I have discussed this. And we have also discussed it with Devon. It’s now your turn. Del is here because of our friendship, and also because of his current rank as Fleet Commander.”
“I don’t understand…” she flashed Moreton a glance. “I shot him, you know.”
“I know. I was there.”
“But…is he here to arrest me or something?” Another shudder racked her muscles and she clutched his hands.
“No, no, Portia.” Burke looked at her with tenderness. “Because of his rank, Fleet Commander Moreton is authorized to pilot an airship. He is also authorized to perform marriages.”
Portia felt her jaw drop but was helpless to do anything about it. She turned and stared at Devon. His smile had disappeared, but his eyes shone with love.
“Portia.” James pulled her attention back to himself. “Devon has indicated that he intends to marry you. And you yourself have echoed his sentiment. Therefore, Del is here to perform the ceremony. If you are willing.”
Her world spun, and—dizzy for a moment or two—she closed her eyes and forced herself to think.
“How can we? The banns, my parents…” The obstacles flooded through her mind.
“All taken care of, my love.”
She felt, rather than saw, Devon come to her side. James released her and she turned to her future husband. “Do you really want this?”
He took her face in his hands. “With everything that I am. Yes, Portia. I want to marry you.” He kissed her delicately, but didn’t let her go. “I have to ask you that same question. Do you really want this?”
Did she? Was this right for her? Wasn’t she supposed to yearn for a church and throngs of well-wishers and a dozen giggling attendants fussing around her?
Her brain eased and her body relaxed as she realized the truth.
“I want this Devon. More than anything else in the world. I want to be your wife.”
“And I believe that is my cue.” Commander Moreton stepped forward as they both turned to him. “May I just say this is a rare pleasure and a perfect opportunity for me to express my thanks, Miss Fielding. But for you I wouldn’t be here tonight. This ceremony will be very special. For both of us.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Commander. I’m glad you’re all right.” She remembered his loss, but kept it to herself. He looked healthy and cheerful, even though there were shadows deep in his eyes.
She reached for Devon’s hand. “Well then, let’s get on with it, shall we?”
*~~*~~*
The lights at Harbury were blazing, the airships were illuminated, and the entire scene was one of brilliance as it all reflected off the snow.
“It looks beautiful, doesn’t it?” Charlotte was tucked in to James’s side as they walked from the cottage along the path to the hall.
“You’re just glowing from attending a wedding,” teased James.
“Yes, I am, I won’t argue that. I’m so happy for Devon and Portia. They are so right for each other it’s almost ridiculous.”
“Just like us?”
“Oh no,” answered Charlotte, making James frown. “We’re beyond perfectly suited.”
“Ah.” He heaved a sigh of relief. “Should we ask Del to marry us too?”
“Lovely man,” replied Charlotte. “But such a sadness behind his eyes.”
“Remind me to tell you his story someday. And yes, there’s a reason for that look. I saw it myself.” James shook his head and steered Charlotte around a nasty iced rut in the lane. “But he is still young. Young enough to recover from it, I hope.”
“I heard Portia say she’d shot him. So you’d better tell me that tale. No forgetting now.”
“I don’t forget,” huffed James. “I merely adjust my priorities now and again. Some things become less important.” He grinned down at her. “Before you ask, you’re always my top priority.”
“What a lovely thing to say.” She reached up and pulled his head toward hers, giving him a quick kiss. “See why I’m so excited to be marrying you?”
They walked on, content just to be together on a beautifully clear night. The stars vied with the Harbury lights in their brilliance and the snow crunched beneath their feet.
“We don’t have to stay too long, do we?” Charlotte’s pace slowed as they neared the nicely shoveled driveway, and saw the carriages arriving.
“No, I think we should make an appearance, do the pretty, and then quietly slip away. I doubt our absence will be noted.”
“I hope not.” She sounded worried. “My concern is that Lady Alwynne will expect me to monitor arrangements. I have become sort of a second-in-command for this event…”
Her voice tapered off, and James didn’t need a sign to let him know that his beloved was nervous. She had a right to be, he realized, given that they were walking casually into a den of…well, of people who lived and thought outside the pale of normalcy.
She lifted her chin then, looking at the door, observing the many guests arriving. “Oh hell. How bad can it be? There must be a hundred people here already, and at least a hundred more on the guest list.” She glanced at James. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about tonight.”
James nodded. “I tend to agree.” He leaned down closer to Charlotte’s ear. “But just in case, I suggested to Commander Moreton that he bring some guests with him. There will be more than a few specially trained airmen incognito amongst the dancers and the rest of the military this evening.”
Charlotte stared at him. “What a brilliant idea. Now I must confess myself feeling much safer, even though I know you’ll be at my side to protect me.”
“Darling,” said James. “This is the Harbury Hall ballroom with two hundred strangers. Not the Dower House.”
Just mentioning the place sent a chill over James’s skin, and he fought to dismiss the terrible images that still darted through his mind at the mere sound of its name.
“I know. But still, one can’t help but feel that this place, these people, are evil.”
“Not the place, Charlotte. Harbury Hall has housed aristocracy for centuries. But the people? Yes. These people. Lord and Lady Harbury. I believe the Bible puts it best… whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. Or however it goes. Lady Harbury reaped the result of her complete dismissal of what was going on in the laboratories. Lord Harbury’s time will come. I’m certain of it.”
“My goodness. You just quoted the Bible, James. You never fail to surprise me.” She hugged his arm.
“My upbringing included a lot of religious instruction. Whether I wanted it or not.” He chuckled. “I’ll tell you about that sometime, too. But for now…here we are.”
Some of the carriages were now having to pull in to disgorge their passengers halfway down the drive, so James and Charlotte were not alone in their walk up over the clean-swept gravel to the front steps.
Servants were there, ready to assist with coats, mufflers, capes and any other needs the arriving company might have.
Thus relieved of their outer garments, they joined the slowly moving line of guests heading toward the Harbury ballroom. Everyone appeared enthusiastic about the evening, although James observed many casting glances around, either admiring the elegant architecture or seeking some sign that nothing untoward would occur.
The reputation of Harbury Hall had taken a lot of knocks over the past months, so morbid curiosity was a likely emotion of many of the guests.
Smart uniforms were all over the place, and the growing number of decorations also featured various sized renditions of the British Flag, often paired with the insignia of the Airship Division represented this evening.
“It looks damn splendid, Charlotte. You did an amazing job here…”
Reaching the top of the stairs, James blinked at the glow emanating from the ballroom. It was if a snowball had been lit and was dazzling all who gazed within. The walls were hung with white silk, and along the highest edge were fronds of pine, their different foliage in contrasting shades of green. The windows were edged with it, and on the floor were dozens of large vases containing what looked like green flowers tied with gold ribbons.
Charlotte nudged James as they stood waiting for their turn to be presented. “Those urns…that’s Portia’s work.” She nodded in approval. “Very nice indeed. Yes, I believe Lady Harbury should be most satisfied.”
Then it was their turn.
“Inspector James Burke and Mrs. Charlotte Howell.”
He wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or not when the conversation continued without cessation. Apparently neither he nor Charlotte were worth a second glance.
He heard a sigh and shot her a quick glance. She grinned back. “I know. But I think we’re pretty darn important, myself.”
He hugged her arm. “We can leave soon.”
“Silly man. We’ve just arrived. And here, we have to greet our hostess…oh, and the Baron. Must be standing in for Lord Harbury.”
This, mused James, should be interesting.