Page 29 of His Unforgettable Bride (Bride Ships: New Voyages #4)
Never, ever oversleep on your wedding day,
especially if marrying a king.
– Commoner, Juliet Dash
The Bascandy Palace
June 1864
J uliet had nobody to blame but herself.
Last night, she informed her attendants she would open her door in the morning when ready for assistance. But then she’d barely slept, too excited about her ceremony at the Royal Chapel, her upcoming romantic honeymoon at Henry’s second home on a shell-covered beach on the coastline, and marrying someone as wonderful as her betrothed.
Thus far, the forenoon had flown past in a blur. People rushed in and out of her bedchamber to deliver a five-course breakfast, a romantic message from her groom, last-minute advice from her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and the announcement of a wedding gift arrival—a horse. A genuine horse in the courtyard.
What a day, and it had barely started.
Now, attired in a satiny robe, Juliet sat before a gilded dressing table and gazed into a diamond-shaped mirror. She stretched to trace her image with her fingertip. A lady stared back at her with pinned-up hair, a bridal wreath of orange blossoms and myrtle sprigs crowning her head. She blinked aside a joyous tear.
Who’d have predicted her path to happily ever after? Certainly not her.
Church bells chimed in the distance, and she closed her eyes, cherishing the sweetness. According to Henry, bells typically played an hour before a wedding ceremony, calling guests to the chapel. But he had arranged for the music to clang hourly because she adored the engaging sound, resurrecting precious memories of her grandfather and the nighttime bells in Everly.
Her soon-to-be husband was charming like that.
“Will there be anything else, Miss?”
Juliet’s eyes popped open as she turned and smiled at a lovely lady-in-waiting named Adelia. She’d forgotten all about her presence. “Thank you, but no. Not until it’s time to don my gown.”
She could single-handedly toss on a dress, but that would be a royal mistake, particularly today.
After a curtsy, the woman left Juliet alone with the puppy curled in the sunshine near the window. Juliet rose and glided around the vast room, running her finger over a deep blue tassel tieback, the embossed floral wallpaper, a velvety petal in a vase of three dozen red roses, a quaint music box of gold, and a tiara she hesitated to touch. But she gently tapped the highest point.
It was all too much, yet part and parcel of marrying her future husband.
The voyage from Victoria had passed in a whirlwind. She’d learned enough to write a book on Bascandy and the monarchy. Fine dining and moonlit strolls on the deck with Henry occupied her evenings, naturally with Miss Walker or Dobbin chaperoning. One night, she dropped her knife, the one generally strapped to her calf, over the ship’s railing, causing barely a ripple in the water.
She didn’t need it anymore.
Henry had forewarned his mother of Juliet’s upcoming arrival and unprecedented plans via a letter. Although the Dowager Queen hadn’t initially welcomed Juliet with open arms, she’d softened her stance after learning Juliet had little interest in her son’s wealth. His lovely sisters had accepted her in a heartbeat and vice versa.
Juliet paused beside the bed, larger than her entire room at the Firths’ mansion. Her gorgeous gown draped across the plush royal blue covering. If anyone had objected to her decision to wear Daisy’s dress, the whispers hadn’t reached her ears. She ran her finger across the high, satiny waistline.
According to her ladies-in-waiting, the square neckline matched the latest fashion, yet an inch too low for Juliet’s taste. But she’d adapt. Maybe she’d start to feel like a bride after she slipped into the gown.
She still felt like ordinary old Juliet with orange blossoms in her hair.
True to his word, Henry had met Faith the same night they arrived in Bascandy. She had no desire to wed him or anyone else for an excellent reason—she still mourned Sutton. Soon, she’d leave the country for a worldwide tour of her own, perhaps the first step in mending her broken heart.
Official duties had filled much of Henry’s agenda, and his easy-going manner had balanced Juliet’s initial awkwardness at the palace. Fittings, introductions, and parties—where she met duchesses, viscounts, and marquesses—had busied her days.
She halfway knew what to expect regarding the upcoming ceremony—a flock of bridesmaids, a fanfare of trumpets, a cake weighing more than two stones, and guests in made-to-measure court dresses and tails. A tad overwhelming. Yet she held tight to Livy and Tabitha’s last-minute advice—when unsure how to respond, merely nod and possibly say, “Indeed.”
Someone rapped on the closed door from the adjoining room. Juliet hurried forward in her slippers from Tabitha, stopping inches from the door. “Henry?”
“Were you expecting someone else?” Her future husband’s voice rumbled.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone. You’ve been sleeping in a different wing.”
“Not anymore.” They’d discussed countless topics on the ocean steamer, though never sleeping arrangements after the wedding. Surely, they’d share a bed, would they not? “Open the door. I have a gift.”
Another one?
In the last week, he’d purchased her a music box, books of poetry, and a new wardrobe, complete with more riding habits than weekdays. “I appreciate you, but I don’t need lavish presents. Besides, we’re not to view one another until the ceremony.” Even then, she’d don a veil.
“But it is cake.”
Cake? Juliet opened the door a notch, and he handed her a plate containing an apple dessert with a heavenly cinnamon scent. Temporarily, she set it on a nearby ornate table with wooden legs and a granite top. “I am royally impressed you brought me food. It’s perfect.”
“You are perfect,” he said through the narrowly opened door.
A lady never rolled her eyes, but nobody watched, so Juliet did. And yet his flattery worked its magic, and she smiled. “I’m anything but. Are you nervous?”
“I am beyond excited to wed you finally.”
“Finally? We haven’t even known each other for a year.”
“But I have waited for you my entire life.”
Her heart slammed against her chest as she laid her cheek against the thick wooden door. “Sometimes you say exactly what I’m feeling. It’s uncanny.”
“Did Livy also give you a marriage manual as a wedding gift? Mine is titled The Proper Young Husband’s Book .”
“Yes. She handed me The Proper Young Wife’s Book , which has an entire chapter devoted to kissing rules.”
He laughed. “I do not believe we need guidance on the subject.”
Silence hung between them until she said, “Indeed.”
“Are you garbed in your gown yet?”
“Why are you asking?”
“I am trying to recall if tradition dictates that I cannot gaze upon you fully attired before the ceremony or if I cannot see you at all beforehand.”
She had no idea, but adored his eagerness and recalled the last time they’d spoken through a barely open door back in Everly. Back then, she feared she wasn’t worthy of him and had been pushing him away. But Livy and Tabitha helped her understand she had to open her heart more and depend on God to help her.
Henry wrapped his big hand around the door’s edge, inches from her lips. The temptation to kiss his fingers, one at a time, prodded her to act. Dare she? Soon, they’d wed. Juliet gently pressed her lips against his warm knuckle before straightening.
He drew a sharp breath, and the air they shared sizzled. Neither believed in superstitions, and one little peek should not cause a kingdom-shaking catastrophe. “Do you want to forego tradition?”
“You have no idea.” His voice carried a huskiness she craved.
“Please enter if you wish.” She backed up as the door slowly opened to reveal her future husband.
Impeccably dressed, he wore a royal uniform of gold trousers, a white cummerbund and same-colored shirt, and a blue jacket with brass buttons. His freshly shaven face carried the scent of sage on his skin, and she wouldn’t mind messing up his neatly coiffed hair. But she’d wait until the honeymoon.
What a blessing to have such a charming and impossibly wonderful husband-to-be.
When Juliet opened her mouth to tell him not to mess up her hair, he dropped his finger to her lips, tracing the top, then the bottom. “Do not say anything. I want to stare at you for a minute or two silently.”
His tawny eyes held a fire. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other in days. They’d shared a candlelit meal last night. But standing in a bed chamber, with her wearing nothing but slippers and a silky robe, had a distinct intimacy. She tightened her belt.
Shivers danced over her skin as the desire for her future husband built. He cupped her neck, and her knees weakened. Thank goodness he embraced her, or she might have collapsed. Their lips met, as did their souls.
She didn’t want to think about someone arriving to help her dress for the ceremony. Or that Henry should have left for the chapel by now. Or that they had a lifetime to share their affection. No, she only wanted to savor the here and now.
His feathery kiss teased and sped up her pulse. Her hands roamed, exploring his broad shoulders, thick neck, and lush hair. When his fingers made a trail up her cheek, warmth enveloped her, yet a shiver crept upward as well.
They had traveled on far different paths, but she knew all the way to her toes that God had brought them together. Ideally, she’d awaken in his arms every morning and they’d share the same pillow each night. And she believed he yearned for the same thing. But they had to stop sharing their affection now, or she’d mess up more than her hair.
Reluctantly, she placed both of her hands against his muscular chest and shoved enough to break their embrace. They stared at each other, breathless.
She softly smiled. “I’ll see you at the chapel.”
With love in his eyes, he rubbed his thumb over her chin and whispered, “Once upon a time, a scrappy orphan and a rebellious prince fell in love and lived happily ever after.”
“And they grew fat but incredibly delighted, eating cake every day.”
He laughed before sobering, his voice husky. “Thank you for rescuing me and agreeing to become my wife. You, my love, are truly unforgettable.”
Brimming with joy, Juliet reached for his fingers and squeezed. “And thank you for being my fairy tale.”
* * *
Thank you for reading His Unforgettable Bride ! Make sure you haven’t missed any of our romantic Bride Ships novels by Jody Hedlund and Patti Stockdale.
No one writes Western historical romance like Lacy Williams! Journey to Wyoming and discover five mail-order brides and the men who love them in our Wind River Mail-Order Brides series.
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