“T here’s nothing for it, Papa. I am going to marry him.”
Standing before her father, watching his face, Cymbeline wondered why she felt so trepidatious. Usually, she always felt so empowered and confident in his presence.
No doubt her nerves stemmed from the fact that she had assumed all her life that her marriage would be a simple affair, and there would be no conflict.
She would find a handsome young man who interested her, and who she interested, bring him to her parents, and all would be well.
But now, as she stood before her father and her mother, she felt herself wondering if they were going to be angry with her. A circumstance she really wasn’t prepared for.
“Are you certain?” her father replied tightly, as if the words caused him pain. This big man that so many were so afraid of, in her experience, was the softest and kindest of all people. “Will you be happy—”
“Papa, that is not a helpful question. How can I know—”
“I was certain about your mother,” he rushed in. “Almost from the moment I—”
Winifred touched his arm. “My dear, you are simplifying the past.”
He ground his teeth together.
“You do not want to stand in the way of this, my love,” her mother said gently.
He looked down at his wife softly, pulled her to him, and said, “I am so grateful to have you as my guide, my darling, so I don’t trounce that young duke into sense, but you know that I only feel this way because…”
Winifred squeezed his arm, then looked to her daughter.
“Yes, Mama?” she prompted.
“Parents are always going to be afraid for their children,” her mother said factually but kindly. “Not all parents, of course, but loving ones. Your father and I love you so dearly.”
Her mother drew in a deep breath, then pronounced, “Baxter is a wonderful man.”
Her father snorted.
“He is, Ajax,” her mother retorted with a tsk.
Her father snorted again.
“Stop that!” her mother castigated, batting at her father’s muscled arm. “He’s one of the best men in England, and that’s what you are afraid of. You are afraid he’s going to drive himself into an early grave, and that’s why you don’t want her to have him.”
Cymbeline sucked in a shuddering breath at these words that everyone, save her future husband, seemed to understand. “Then we help him.”
“Some people don’t want to be helped,” Ajax ground out. “You better be aware of that.”
“I am,” she said, surprised by her father’s intensity and yet also touched by his love for her. “I don’t wish to change him, but that doesn’t mean that I have to stop trying to help him.”
Her mother looked at her gently. “You’re right, of course, and anything can happen. But it is best that you let him take his time and see how our family lives, and perhaps, eventually, that will do the trick.”
She thought of how he’d reacted to the idea of Christmas in the country. Would he be willing to be with her family enough once they were wed? Surely, yes.
“Thank you, Mama,” she replied. “But do you agree to the marriage? You know I need your approval.”
“Marry him anytime you choose, my love,” her mother encouraged. “I don’t think we could ask for anyone more suited to you.”
Ajax snorted again.
“Stop that, darling.” Her mother sighed.
“I don’t know if I can,” he said. “Surely, there has to be someone better.”
“Now, Papa,” Cymbeline said, crossing to her parents and taking her father’s big hands in hers. “I appreciate the fact that you think I am worthy of another great man. But he is the great man I want.”
Ajax blew out a sigh that sounded as if he was being tortured upon the rack.
“Yes, fine,” her father begrudged, softening. “I do agree that he’s as worthy as my brother Leander, your uncle, the duke. But still, I can’t stop him from working himself to death. You can’t either. None of us can. He thinks it’s some sort of badge of courage, of honor.”
“He does,” she agreed, though it dismayed her. “I wish I could stop that too, but I think that I need to admit that I must simply enjoy him for the time that I have him.”
Her father let out a bleat of sound at her realism.
But her mother smiled. “Your father is both proud and infuriated that you are so young and yet so wise.”
“Would you wish me to be foolish for a good many years, Papa?”
“Perhaps,” he huffed before he tugged her into an embrace.
“You’re right though. If you do love him, and it seems that you two bloody do love each other, though you’ve known each other such a short time.
Your mother and I were the same. I cannot stand in the way of love.
So, you’re right, if he continues to willfully burn his candle so intensely at both ends, you must enjoy the fool for as long as he’s around. ”
“Thank you, Papa,” she said, tears stinging her eyes.
“Now, we shall have a wedding then. A great one. A large one,” her mother gushed. “I’m sure that’s what he wants.”
She searched her father’s face, hating that she was bringing worry to her parents, but unable to turn away from the man she loved. “But is a big wedding what you want, Papa?”
A sheen filled her father’s eyes as he raised his hand to her cheek and gently said, “Is it what you want? Because I want what you want, come what may.”
She beamed at him and then her mother through burgeoning tears.
She had no reason to be afraid. Whatever she wanted, they would want it too.
And they would always be there to support her.
She wondered if Callum had ever truly known that.
His mother seemed kind enough, but had anyone really been there to challenge him, and to push him the way that her family had with her?
Maybe that’s what he needed. Maybe she could provide that.
Maybe she was ridiculous, but it didn’t matter.
She now could not imagine her life without him.
No one alive at present felt more relief than Callum as he stood outside St. Paul’s Cathedral in the most lavish suit that he had ever owned.
This was what he had been striving for since the moment he set eyes on Cymbeline.
He knew it now. There was no questioning it. This was what he had wanted. And finally, he had it. There would be no going back.
The steps of St. Paul’s were full to the brim with people from every walk of life, hoping to get a glimpse of the Duke of Baxter and his soon-to-be bride, who was to arrive soon in a bridal coach that he had made certain was decorated in garlands and flowers that would be the envy of a queen.
The cathedral within was packed to within an inch of its life. There was a chorus. The notes of its song soared up towards the dome as the guests waited for the wedding to begin.
The wedding itself would be as grand as any royal affair. He had not arranged the wedding.
His mother and the dowager duchess had, with the help of Lady Winifred. It had been decided that their wedding would be the most wonderful wedding of the century.
So many of the Briarwood weddings had been small affairs, and this time it seemed that they were going to do their utmost to have a union that was larger than ever—a sign that, despite the difficult times, life was to be celebrated. And he adored that.
As he strode down the nave of the cathedral to take up his place, he did not bother looking right or left.
He knew that he was surrounded by the most powerful people in the land. They had all come to witness his wedding. They had all come to witness him celebrate being alive. For that was what a wedding was.
He could not stop smiling. This was exactly what life was about, people all about him, feeling excitement, making things happen. And this was definitely making something happen. A wedding was one of the greatest and most important events of a duke’s life.
When he reached the spot just before the altar and took up his position, with Cymbeline’s cousins standing there waiting, he did not feel as if he needed to be worried.
No, this was the beginning of his life, the next phase of it. The most important phase. The phase where he secured his legacy, and would no longer have to worry about…
No, he would not think about that. Once he had a son, he would not have to worry at all. He would not have to worry about slipping away from this world too soon, as his father had done. It was the only thing that had ever given him pause, that he could exit this life without having produced a son.
Yes, the truly great work of a duke was not just in the land and in the government, but in making a family. And he would. He would have a large family with her, of that he was certain.
Calchas stood staring at him. He was Callum’s groomsman. It was an interesting choice, but he felt it was the best idea to choose the most suspicious of the cousins to stand up next to him. The others, Octavian and Laertes, were in a line behind the naval man.
Calchas stared at him with a hard, ball-crushing energy. “You mess this up, and you know what will happen to you.”
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of the field—”
“No, no, I have a ship,” Calchas said under his breath. “I will tie you up, put you on it, attach an anchor to your legs, and drop you out in the Atlantic. Quite cold, quite deep. It will be an interesting descent.”
“Your family is really very violent, considering how much it seems to adore the concept of love.”
“Look, old boy,” Calchas said with a slightly frightening but merry sally, “sometimes one needs motivation. And it’s clear to me that you do. I’m still not a fan of all of this. I felt it was a dangerous thing that she dressed as a man, and I think it’s a dangerous thing that she’s marrying you.”
“I promise I’m not going to hurt her.”
“All men say that,” Calchas drawled, unimpressed. “Many of the men of my family have said that. But you know what they do? They still hurt the people they love, because it is the inevitability of humans to do so. You’re going to hurt her. My question is, once it happens, what will you do?”
He stared at Calchas, nearly at a loss for words. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly,” Calchas drawled. “That is what makes me nervous.”
And then the organ of the cathedral started. It’s pure, reverberating notes flew through the air. The congregation stood. And then there she was.
Cymbeline stood at the towering doorway of the nave, her beautiful soft pink gown glistening with jewels. It was a resplendent costume, worthy of a princess.
Her hair was coiled softly atop her head, decked with pearls and pink roses.
She strode down the aisle slowly, with her father guiding her. For a moment, he was certain that Ajax, much like Calchas, was going to give him a stare that equaled death.
But Ajax did not stare at him as if he wished him death. No, quite the contrary.
Ajax gave him a stare as if he wished him not just life, but a very long life. And it did something to Callum. It struck him hard in the heart and the soul, and he did not like it. For once again, that boundary that he had set up so long ago felt like it was shaking under a stare like that.
He shoved the consideration away. He was being a fool. Lord Ajax merely felt sentimental on the day of his daughter’s wedding.
Of course he did.
Who would not, with a daughter as beautiful as she, who was so good, kind, and intelligent?
When Ajax placed Cymbeline’s hand into Callum’s, he felt it a moment that transcended time, that transcended all of his life to this point. And he knew that this was bigger and somehow more important than anything else, despite what he usually told himself.
She lifted her gaze to his and smiled.
His heart nearly stopped at that smile.
Ajax did not say anything, but his hand rested over their twined ones for a long moment. Callum felt the benediction of a powerful man. And his throat tightened. Suddenly, he wished… Oh, how he wished that his own father was here, giving his blessing, watching him wed.
His father had missed most of the important moments of Callum’s life, not because he had died, but even when he’d been alive… He’d been too busy, as the dowager duchess had pointed out.
But it had been worth it, surely, all the sacrifices that had been made for the great duke.
Yes, of course, those sacrifices were all worth it. The sacrifices that were coming would be worth it too. And so he shook off the strange sensation roiling through him and turned towards the bishop.
Cymbeline was his. That’s what mattered.
He had finally found a family that would be perfect for him, because when she was alone, she would always have her family to go to when he was too busy, when he was hard at work.
She would never be alone, not as he was.
No, this was perfect. This was everything that both of them needed.