The following evening, at the prescribed hour, Ernest and Henrietta, with Barrington acting as chaperone, descended the Ravenwood brougham, at Hyde Park, to partake of the Promenade. Coiffed to perfection, his fiancée cut a flawless picture of the perfect English noblewoman, yet one of her unique creations set her apart from the crowd. Now, if only she would stop fidgeting.

“Are you sure about this?” She bit her lip and surveyed the throng. “Can we not come back next year? Or, perhaps, in the following century, when they are all dead?”

“Do not fear, my little bird, as I am with you.” With Hen firmly anchored on his arm, he led her into the rotation. Yet he ignored the not so polite stares and the number of those who gave them their backs. Were they so perfect? Bloody hypocrites. “And I shall not leave your side.”

“I fear I am going vomit.” Pale, she slowed and inhaled a deep breath. “Whatever happens, do not let me faint in front of the ton.”

“Darling, relax.” Was it too soon? Had he overestimated her fortitude? “I promise, everything will be fine. And you will not vomit, because you have had naught but dry toast and weak tea, this morning. I told you to take lunch, but you refused. Daresay, it is the effects of ravenous hunger that plague you.”

“But I am too nervous to eat.” With her hand, she clutched her throat and toyed with the diamond necklace he insisted she wear. “What if Mrs. Dudley or her horrible sister is here? What if I am confronted?”

“I wager you can handle them.” Barrington positioned himself alongside Henrietta, sandwiching her between two estimable Howes. “By the by, I am sorry Florence is not here, but I forbade her from attending, because she is not rested after last night. She was so furious, I feared she might be moved to violence, if she spied either of the two harridans, here, and I would rather not have my pregnant wife arrested for assault.”

“I understand, completely.” Henrietta glanced from left to right, and Ernest noted the lines of strain etched about her eyes. All of a sudden, she started. “Oh, dear.”

“What is wrong?” It was then he discovered the source of her discomfit, a rapidly approaching Beryl Hogart, accompanied by Lady Jersey, and he whispered, “Easy, as she is the soul of charity.”

“Lord Ravenwood, Lord Ernest, and Miss Graham, it is so good to see you.” Profuse with dramatic emotion, Mrs. Hogart made a show of addressing Henrietta. “I had it on my list to pay call, but you so generously grant me an audience, instead, and I am honor-bound to make my apologies for the shameful treatment meted on you, while you were guests in my home.” With a lace-edged handkerchief, she daubed her large nose and sniffed. “I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for the egregious breach in decorum, Miss Graham. I can assure you, such behavior is not the norm at my events. And I said to Mrs. Dudley and Ms. Bland, ‘Never again will you darken my doorstep or partake of my musicales.’”

“To be denied such joy is a very great tragedy, indeed, and they are all the poorer for it, but you mistake the situation, Mrs. Hogart.” As Ernest anticipated, his bride-to-be displayed her characteristic humility, while he swallowed a snort and Barrington covered his mouth. “I am as much to blame as anyone, and I am so sorry I ruined your daughters’ wonderful performance.”

“Oh, you are a woman of discriminating taste and uncommon judgment.” With a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk, Mrs. Hogart peered at Lady Jersey. “Did I not tell you the very same?” Then she gazed at Ernest. “And I said as much, last night, did I not, Lord Ernest?”

To wit he nodded.

“So you did, Beryl.” Lady Jersey inclined her head. “We have not been properly introduced, but I am Lady Jersey, and I must compliment you on your fashions, Miss Graham, as they really are quite remarkable.”

“Thank you, my lady.” As Florence instructed, Henrietta curtseyed.

“Miss Graham, you would do me a very great honor, if you would consent to create something for my Miranda, for the Duke of Rylan’s ball, because we shall announce her wedding, in The Times, just prior to the gala.” Now that was something Ernest had not predicted, but it played right into his plans, as Mrs. Hogart pressed a fist to her chest. “I beg you, do not refuse me, and I shall pledge unlimited entry to my musicales.”

“Oh.” Henrietta responded with a timid smile. That threat, alone, was enough to send Ernest running for Derbyshire, but he persevered for his future wife. “I am overwhelmed by your kindness, and the honor is mine, Mrs. Hogart. If you bring your daughter to Howe House, I will take her measurements, and we can discuss colors and materials, as well as her vision and style, because it is important to capture the wearer’s personality to achieve a perfect fit.”

“Did you hear that, Lady Jersey?” Mrs. Hogart gloated. “Just wait till I tell Mrs. Ponsonby my daughter is getting a Graham original.” Then she waved. “Well, enjoy the Promenade. Cheerio.”

The surrounding pedestrians whispered and pointed, and Ernest gave Henrietta a gentle nudge. “Let us continue, sweetheart.”

“What just happened?” She rubbed the back of her neck. “And why is everyone staring?”

“Because you just got the official approval of not one but two of the most influential matriarchs in the ton,” Barrington explained.

“Indeed, Beryl Hogart and Lady Jersey wield considerable power in the social arena, and no one will gainsay them, for fear of retribution and censure.” Ernest spied his conspirators, who gathered in their usual place, and steered her in their direction. “But Mrs. Hogart is also one of the most obliging figures in London.”

“That is why everyone attends her loathsome musicales.” Henrietta nodded to a passing couple, which acknowledged her, and Ernest sighed in relief. “And if I do an adequate job of designing for Miranda—”

“You are ensured a lifetime of sore ears, as well as Mrs. Hogart’s good opinion.” Barrington snickered. “Given the ensemble is to accompany a wedding announcement, I wager the matchmaking mamas will beat a path to your door.”

“But I am one person.” Another group of ladies dipped their chins in unison, and Henrietta responded, in kind. “I cannot possibly serve everyone. Will that not hurt me, in their estimation?”

“Perhaps, we should look into purchasing a boutique, of your very own, if that would make you happy.” Ernest began running the numbers, as he enjoyed finance. “You could interview and hire additional seamstresses, to help sew your exclusive designs.”

“My lord, I must confess the idea thrills me, but I have very high standards.” She bit her lip, and he could almost read her thoughts. “Still, if I require samples of their work, and I speak with each prospective candidate, we just might succeed in building a profitable enterprise.”

“Ah, I love it when you talk money.” Thus they arrived at the pivotal moment, and Ernest winked at his allies.

“Ravenwood and Lord Ernest.” His Grace, Blake Elliott, the Duke of Rylan squared his shoulders, and it was as though all of society held their collective breath. “And this must be the inimitable Miss Graham, I presume? The Duke of Rylan, at your service.” Then he broke character and cast a devilish countenance. “My duchess speaks of little else besides your designs, and I wonder if I might impinge upon you to make a dress for her?”

“Well, now you have done it.” On cue, His Grace, Damian Seymour, the Duke of Weston elbowed Rylan, and the ducal duo, well known for their longstanding affiliation, launched their scheme. “If you buy a gown for Lenore, then I must purchase one for Lucilla.”

“And that is my problem, how?” Rylan scoffed. “It is not as if you cannot afford it, cheap bastard.” To Henrietta, he said, “Spare no expense, Miss Graham, as I would have only the finest for my duchess.”

“I swear, you are intent on bankrupting my dukedom.” Weston shoved aside the other duke. “I shall pay double for a garment of equal quality.”

“My card, Miss Graham.” Rylan extended a hand.

“And mine.” Weston pushed to the fore.

“Your Graces, there is no need to argue, as I shall be delighted to outfit both duchesses.” For the first time since they arrived in the park, Henrietta surrendered Ernest’s escort, collected the cards, and stashed them in her reticule.

And then a veritable sea of ladies, demanding similar services, swamped her.

 “I told you, the ton is naught but a polished mob.” Barrington clucked his tongue, as they removed to a safe place to watch the theatrics. “They love a scandal, second only to a love story, which you have given them.”

“She is going to need a large storefront.” Ernest made a mental note to contact his solicitor, at once. In that instant, Hen caught his gaze, and the sheer elation he glimpsed well nigh brought him to tears. “Thank you, for doing this.”

“I should thank you, brother.” Barrington patted Ernest on the back. “While this may sound sentimental, I mean every word. You made me the man I am today, and I am grateful for the opportunity to repay you. So, now that we have made a triumph of the situation, what is next for you and Henrietta?”

“That is easy.” Hope glimmered and unfurled, filling his chest with unparalleled anticipation for a bright future. “After the wedding, I would start a family.”

“I thought you commenced that, back at Garring.” Barrington snorted. “Given the ruckus. Good God, she has incited a riot.”

“We did, yet she shows no sign of progress, much to my disappointment.” Five more ladies joined the throng, and Ernest basked in pride as Henrietta managed the commotion. “But we are still finding our way.”

“Well, you will forgive me if I say you are on your own with that particular task.” Barrington shifted his weight. “It is all I can do to keep pace with Florence, not that I am complaining.”

“Brother, I am happy to submit I get your meaning, and the work is good.” Between every new address, his little bird met his stare, investing each brief connection with a singular phrase he could not mistake, I love you, and he could not wait to get her home and enact a private celebration. “And believe me, I require no help in that respect.”

~

From a cloudless sky, sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, projecting a colorful mosaic on the wooden floor of the nave at St. George’s Hanover Square. An array of nobles, garbed in their best attire, filled the box pews, as Ernest, immaculate in a coat of Bath superfine, turned to Henrietta and pledged, “My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home.”

Of course, his warm and reassuring embrace had been her haven since they consummated their love, at Garring Manor, and she passed each night enveloped by his strong body. Through tears of joy, she made the same vow, and in a flurry of activity that left her giddy, she raced down the aisle with her new husband.

At the curb, the Ravenwood landau awaited, and he lifted her into the squabs before joining her.

“Upon my word, we are married.” She gazed at him and blinked. “Or is this a much-cherished dream? If so, woe to the person who wakes me.”

“My darling wife, and how I have longed to address you as such, for good or ill, we are bound for all eternity, and no one can take you from me, again.” Onlookers shouted for them to kiss, and Ernest glanced at her and smiled. “Shall we oblige them?”

She nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, please.”

Chuckling, he set his mouth to hers, ever so briefly, and the crowd cheered.

“Oy.” He called to the coachman. “Drive on.”

“What is the rush?” Enjoying the moment, she spied Barrington, Florence, and her father, and waved. “Oh, this is such fun.”

“I have a surprise for you, and we are due at Howe House, for our wedding breakfast.” Twining his fingers in hers, he pressed his lips to her gloved knuckles. “And I would have thought you famished, by now, given I exercised you quite thoroughly this morning.”

“If memory serves, I did my share of nibbling, much to your expressed pleasure.” And her cheeks burned as she recalled their naughty habits, but never did she suffer shame, because he was her man. “In fairness, I only did what you taught me.”

“And you did well, my dear, as I want you, even now.” Flushing red, he claimed another sweet kiss, just as the rig pulled to the curb. “Ah, we are here.”

“What are we doing on Bond Street?” Curious, she glanced left and then right. “Are we meeting someone?”

“No, my love.” With an air of smug satisfaction, he motioned to an empty building. “My gift to you, on our most special day.” He pointed for emphasis. “It has four floors, as well as a storage area, below stairs, and ample room for expansion. If necessary, I can purchase the shop, next door.”

“You cannot be serious.” Studying the red brick structure, trimmed in Portland stone, she noted a curious sign above the massive windows. “Ernest, it is too much.”

“But we talked about it, and we agreed you should open your own boutique.” As usual, he leaped in headfirst with nary a care for the specifics. “Since we journey to the Continent, in a fortnight, I thought we could buy fabrics and notions on our trip to Paris. That would give you the opportunity to examine the fashions and incorporate more ideas into your designs. Would you not like that?”

“You warned me we would not see much beyond the confines of our suite.” She giggled. “Do you renege, my cherished husband? Because I rather look forward to being ravished.”

“I love it when you call me that, and I am going to bury my face between your luscious thighs, tonight.” At his bold pronouncement, which she doubted not for an instant, she tensed. “Now, do you not like it? Am I not to be rewarded for my thoughtfulness and generosity?”

“I adore it and you.” Then she leaned close and whispered her intentions, as she planned to thank him when they adjourned to his chamber, and he groaned. “Think about that, as we partake of our breakfast.”

“Trust me, I shall be hard pressed to forget it, as I may be erect until the New Year.” He shifted his weight. “And I should keep my coat buttoned, lest I embarrass myself at our party.”

“Then, by all means, let us away.” Then she tapped her chin. “Only, I would know what the sign says. I suppose that is French, but I do not know what it means. Is it the name of the last business that occupied the space?”

“Ah, that is my touch, and I would ask you not to change it, as I suspect you will appreciate the significance.” Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he nuzzled her temple. “Le Petite Oiseau is French for ‘the little bird.’”

“Oh, Ernest, I love it.” For the umpteenth time that day, she wrestled with happy tears and fumbled for her handkerchief. “I still cannot believe everything worked out for us, and we are finally united.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He cupped her cheek. “Regardless of the past and those who conspired against us, we triumphed, and now I would celebrate our future.”

Despite the open-air landau, Ernest bent his head and kissed her. And kept kissing her.

A few minutes later, the ceremonial equipage came to a halt before Howe House, and they descended to the graveled drive. Before she could take a step, he bent and swept her off her feet.

Laughing, he charged into the foyer, where Barrington and Florence lingered.

“How did it go?” Barrington asked. “Did she like it?”

“She loved it.” Ernest set her down and slipped an arm about her waist. To Henrietta, he said, “My brother located the vacant shop, and I suspect we may need to secure the building alongside, because my wife is brilliant, and I predict she will be a smashing success.”

“If the requests we have fielded are any indication, you are right.” Florence gave Henrietta a quick peck on the cheek. “My dear, your unconventional wedding gown has caused an even bigger stir than your ceremony, and the ballroom is abuzz with ladies just waiting to place an order.”

“Really?” Henrietta snorted in astonishment. “I did not anticipate that, because my implication was quite elementary.”

“And I am interested to know the meaning behind the frock.” Ernest retreated and scrutinized her from top to toe. “While you are stunning in whatever you wear, I had thought you might employ all the colors of the rainbow, as well as your signature, hand-painted flowers.”

“Yet hers was a genius maneuver.” Florence shook her head. “Bedecked in all white, she stood out from the crowd. Indeed, we could not miss her, as she walked the aisle on Graham’s arm.”

“Yet, even that was not my intent.” Henrietta smoothed her skirts and adjusted a sleeve. “Rather, I look upon my garb as a chance to start anew, and the pristine white, with minimal ornamentation and lace in the same hue, symbolizes a blank canvas, of a sort. It is my declaration, as I begin my life as part of something greater than myself, and I would leave behind the ugliness of the past, when I venture forth as a lady.”

“Darling, I am touched beyond words by your considerate nature.” Ernest furrowed his brow. “But I am proud of you, just as you are.”

“Thank you.” She brushed a lock of blonde hair from his forehead. “And I am equally proud of my husband.”

“Then let us join our guests, before you two combust.” Barrington snickered. “There will be plenty of time for that, later.”

“You are one to talk.” Ernest elbowed his elder brother. “If I recall, you locked Florence in your private apartment for three days after your nuptials, and the noises—”

“That is quite enough.” Florence rolled her eyes and steered Barrington toward the hall. “Now, let us adjourn to the ballroom.”

Despite the complimentary mentions in the gossip columns, leading up to the big event, Henrietta struggled with doubts about her reception. While Florence explained there would always be those who would not receive a servant’s daughter, society could be fickle, and the weak could be swayed by the powerful people firmly entrenched in Henrietta’s corner.

One such person was the first to greet her, as she entered the expansive, grand dining room, which boasted Egyptian décor by Thomas Hope.

“Percy.” When she shouted his name, he splayed his palms in welcome, and she hugged him. “Oh, now we are related, treasured cousin.”

“Yes, we are, dear Mrs. Howe.” Even as he grinned, a hint of sadness colored his blue eyes. “Aw, I wish you the best, old friend. Perhaps, someday, you will help me find true love and redemption, because I am lonely, Henrietta.”

“I will, Percy.” Perched on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “I promise, I will. And you must visit Ernest and I, at Whitstone, because you are never alone. You are family, and I expect you to celebrate the holidays with us.”

“Thank you, sweet lady.” With that, he bowed.

The next friendly face brought her to a quick halt, and she curtseyed, as Ernest bowed. “Your Grace, I am so honored you could attend my special day.”

“Posh.” The Duchess of Rylan waved, dismissively. “I would not miss it for the world, and I wore the gown you sewed, especially, to show my support.”

“I am so glad it meets with Your Grace’s approval.” Just then, Henrietta caught sight of the Duchess of Weston. “And I am doubly blessed, as I see Her Grace sports hers, as well.”

“Indeed, my sister is thrilled with your creation, as it suits her.” The duchess peered over her shoulder. “Your design to accommodate her missing appendage is nothing short of remarkable, and we are grateful. But I wanted to have a brief word with you, about a personal matter, if I may.”

“Of course.” Henrietta glanced at Ernest. “My lord, I will meet you at our table, and I will not be long.”

“That is fine, darling.” He kissed her hand. “As I need to arrange a toast.”

“So, how may I be of service, Your Grace?” Curious, Henrietta moved to stand near a wall. “What can I do for you?”

“Actually, it is what I can do for you that I would discuss.” The duchess lowered her voice. “You see, you and I have much in common, given you are not the first unconventional bride, and I wager you will not be the last, as I was not to the manor born. Indeed, I am but a general’s daughter, as is my sister. I met that insufferable man I call a husband, when he almost ran me aground with his horse, and we fell in love aboard his ship, but he led me to believe he was but a sea captain in service to His Majesty. Scoundrel that he was, Blake never told me the truth of his rank, until after we docked in London, and he owned my heart. Like you, I thought I was not good enough to wed a duke, but he proved me wrong, and I found my place in society, just as you will find yours.” She took Hen’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “There will be times when you doubt yourself, when you wonder if everyone considers you a failure and predicts your fall, and you will want to flee. Mark my words, and heed my advice. Walk, never run from the ton, and never let them see you cry, as they admire strength and seize upon the slightest hint of trepidation to turn and rend you. As my husband so correctly asserted, love knows no rank or social etiquette. All that matters is that Lord Ernest chose you, and you accepted him.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Again moved to happy tears, Henrietta sniffed. “You know not what your support means to me.”

“Oh, I think I do.” Her Grace stepped to the rear and nodded. “Now, I believe it past due for you to join your husband, as he stares at you, and this is your time to shine.”

“If you will excuse me, Your Grace.” Buoyant with renewed confidence, Henrietta curtseyed and all but skipped to the table of honor, where Ernest waited.

“Is everything all right?” He pulled her close. “What did the Duchess want?”

“Everything is wonderful.” His boyish countenance, bereft of the worries that plagued their courtship, melted her heart, and she eased to the chair he held for her. “And she imparted sage wisdom.” Toying with the crystal stem of her glass, she prepared for the feast, when she noted he remained on guard.

“If I may have your attention.” Calm fell upon the massive room, as Ernest loomed tall. “I know it is not the usual custom for the groom to begin the festivities, but since my marriage has been anything but customary, and my love affair with my bride defies the norm, I hope you will grant me a bit of license, in this respect.” In that instant, she held her breath, and he gazed at her and winked. “You see, I have known Henrietta from the morning she entered this world, and from that moment, she has been my lady. Although we were separated for a while, she remained a guiding light during my darkest hours, such that I cannot recall a time when I was not hers, and I am convinced she was fated to be mine. So I ask everyone to join me, as I toast my incomparable bride. My Henrietta. My stablemaster’s daughter.”