The wedding of the Duke of Sutherland was to be a major event. All the inns, hotels, and rooms within a ten-mile radius of Wells were booked for the event. The wedding would take place in the cathedral on the first day, and the next day the guests would travel the two-and-thirty miles to Grayson Manor where the reception was to be held over a long weekend of celebration.

Preparation at the Manor would begin up to a month in advance and, additional staff would be hired to accommodate the noble guests and their entourage. No money was to be spared. No delicacy was to be overlooked for the guest’s delight. A beautifully landscaped pond and fountain were created in front of the Manor, with gracefully swimming swans and benches for sitting to contemplate the vistas.

Three orchestras were engaged to provide various kinds of music in several of the great rooms to keep everyone entertained. Lavish buffets were available from dawn until midnight for the guests to eat whenever they felt hungry. And one grand feast was planned in the large dining room for the last night of the celebration where more than a hundred were expected to attend.

And, within the whirlwind of activity leading up to the wedding, George was finishing off his last several paintings and shipping them in his own carriage to London for the show which would open in less than a week after the wedding.

Both George and Lucy were so busy; they rarely had a moment alone together. But one evening, a few days before they were to leave for Wells, they found themselves drawn to the studio at the same time.

George was just sitting in a chair at the large studio window, gazing at the stars and taking a moment to find some repose. Lucy was drawn by her desire to recapture that moment when George had proposed to her. Her little desk in the messy studio had become a sacred spot for her and often, after a particularly difficult fitting for the wedding gown, she gravitated to the studio to just sit and dream of her happily-ever-after moment.

“I was coming here to hide out for a bit, but I saw the light and expected to find you here,” Lucy said as she came inside.

George turned in his chair and smiled, extending his hand to her and beckoning her to come to him. She went over and sat on his lap, putting her arm around him and laying her head on his shoulder.

“This is all so wonderful, but I shall be grateful when it is finished, and we can begin to live our new life,” Lucy said.

“Yes, I have often thought we should just run away and hide out in some forest and become Robin Hood and Maid Marian, disregarding all convention and living our lives as brigands and roustabouts.”

“It sounds heavenly,” she said, giving George a kiss on his cheek, “But then you would not be able to paint, and I should need to scrub clothes and cook stews and never again set pen to paper.”

“Perhaps you are right. And do think of how lovely a month or two in Venice will be. I shall feed you chocolates and mussels and bathe you in a bathtub filled with rose petals.”

“Not all at the same time I hope,” she said with a giggle.

George was overcome with a welling up of affection for her and he grabbed her and swung her around on his lap, picking her up as he stood, and placing her on her feet to face him.

“My dearly beloved, Lucy, I shall cherish you always. Through the storms that life shall send our way, and the glorious joys that life shall bring us—always, always, always know that you are forever in my heart, my dearest, dearest Lucy.”

“I still cannot believe that I, the daughter of a tenant farmer, will soon become the Duchess of Sutherland and married to the most wonderful man I have ever known in my entire life.”

“And I can assure you—Mother will never let you forget that.”

* * *

“Will you still visit me when you are Duchess?” Lucy’s bridesmaid, Isabell, asked as she helped Lucy with her bridal gown the day of the wedding, as she was being dressed in a hotel room in Wells.

“I see no reason why not,” Lucy responded.

“People with power can change.”

“Power? What power shall I have? His Grace is basically a farmer and an artist. I am a humble writer, still waiting to be published. I hardly think any of that will go to my head and cause me to become a tyrant.”

Isabell laughed. “Hold still. I cannot believe how many buttons there are on this gown.

The soon to become Dowager Duchess was sitting on the side of the room, with Flossy standing beside her, scrutinizing every move, and spoke up at Lucy’s statement of modesty. “Lucy, you are soon to become the Duchess of Sutherland. I can assure you it is not a modest position, and I urge you to take your duties and responsibilities seriously. You are about to become married to one of the highest peers of the realm, and you must obliterate all thought of your humble beginnings and rise to the station to which my son has risen you. I beg you not to take this matter lightly.”

Lucy turned to her Grace and said, “Thank you for your kind admonition, but please let me beg to differ with you. I have always believed that power and status must be tempered with compassion and understanding of those who are not of one’s class. I hope that my humble beginnings might serve as a counterbalance of modesty to the power that my husband yields, for I believe wisdom always serves the greater good of all.”

Her Grace took up her fan and pointed to her drops which Flossy began to prepare.

Lucy stood before the tall mirror and gazed at herself. Betsy was standing by with the white gold and diamond coronet to place on Lucy’s head. Charlotte Goodwin waited with the bridal bouquet of white and light pink roses.

“How lovely you look,” Isabell said as she stood back and admired her friend.

The gown was the simplest of dresses. Bone-white sheer layers of delicate fabric fell from just below the bust to the floor creating a train. A decorative belt of diamonds and pearls were sown around the dress where the skirt met the bodice. Simple, sheer sleeves fell from the shoulder to the wrist. She wore a pink and white diamond necklace George had given her just yesterday.

“Oh, my…” Lucy said, “This is really happening. She turned to Betsy, and said, “I guess it is time.”

Betsy came forward and placed the coronet on top of Lucy’s beautifully prepared hair. Charlotte came over, gave Lucy a hug and handed her the flowers.

Again, Lucy looked at herself in the mirror, now fully dressed and ready for the altar.

“Very well, dear friends. I believe we have a wedding to attend.”