For the next several days, repairing the orangery was their primary focus. Even so, it was rare to find Jonathan and Celeste very far apart. While he supervised the workmen who were putting in the new panes of glass, she was painstakingly repairing the curtains that were used to separate the different areas in the big glass buildings. While he was helping mix cement, she was working at the potting table with the under-gardeners.
It reached the point that the staff and villagers just grinned at each other when the two were together. There were a few, however, who frowned because they feared what might come of this young couple who were so clearly drawn to each other, yet so far apart in station.
Celeste worried about it, but Jonathan merely picked up her hand and kissed her fingers when she finally asked him. “Not to worry. I will not leave you. I would sooner give up the duchy than you. As it happens, I don’t plan to give up either one. But I want to be certain that it will come to pass, that which I have set in motion, before I accidentally make another promise that I cannot deliver.”
One drowsy afternoon late in July, a messenger from Edinburgh came on horseback.
He was dusty from traveling, but the most interesting thing about him was his livery, which made it plain that he was a royal envoy. When he drew near, he alighted from his horse. After enquiring directions of several people, he hurried toward Jonathan and Celeste.
When he was sufficiently near, he bowed first to Jonathan and then to Celeste. He then pulled a scroll from his belt pouch and began to read, “In as much as she has rendered assistance and aid to a peer of the realm and supported him in recent trials, going above and beyond the call of duty, allow me to present to you, the Right Honorable Dame Celeste Singer, this Order of the Thistle. Will you receive it?”
“I, um, that is,” Celeste stammered.
“Just say yes,” Jonathan directed.
“Yes,” Celeste repeated.
The messenger lifted the flat links of the chain and placed it over her head. Then he turned to the people who were working on the orangeries and announced, “Please allow me to introduce the right honorable Dame Celeste Singer.” Then he said more quietly, “There will be an official presentation, but the honor is yours right now.
Everyone cheered and the applause echoed off the mountains. But only echoes came back to them. No wolves howled.
Chapter 56
Celeste’s honor, of course, called for celebration. As the sun sank down behind the mountains, trestle tables were set out in the courtyard. Fresh fruit, roast fowl of varying sorts, and mounds of new vegetables, and platters heaped with bread were set out. It was very much the same food they would have been eating anyway, but adding tablecloths and calling it a feast made it a festive occasion.
No one had dressed up for it because they had been working hard all day long and no one had time to go back home and change. That didn’t decrease the festive ambiance.
An impromptu band struck up a dance, and several of the younger villagers found enough energy to step out to the lively music. Just as a merry country dance was in full swing, another messenger, this one in a plain gray suit of traveling clothes, alighted from an old wagon drawn by a pair of farm horses.
If he had not already known who was in that wagon, Jonathan would have known it from Celeste’s joyful shout. “Mama! Papa!”
The Right Honorable, newly made, Dame ran toward the dusty couple, completely heedless of any sort of dignity.
First her mother, then her father, folded her in a warm, loving embrace and for a few moments there were no words spoke among them at all.
When Jonathan approached the joyous family reunion, Celeste turned to him, joy shining in her eyes. “Oh, Jonathan! I mean, Your Grace, please allow me to introduce my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Singer.”
“I am honored to meet them, Miss Singer. They have come just in time, for as of this hour you and I are equals. I will not have to contemplate choosing between your and this land. Mr. Singer, Mrs. Singer, I beg leave to court your daughter, for it is my earnest hope that she will consent to be my wife.”
Celeste gaped at him wordlessly. “Well,” said Mr. Singer. “I think that is up to Celeste. What do you think, my dear?” he turned to his wife.
“I think this is very strange, but if he is an honest man and true, I see no harm in it,” Mrs. Singer consented.
Then Jonathan took both Celeste’s hands in his.
“Celeste, I would get down on one knee and do this properly, but you would then have to help me get up again, considering the work I have done today. Is it just possible, knowing all that you know about my past and my way of doing things, that you might perhaps entertain the idea of becoming my wife?”
Celeste laughed. “Oh, Jonathan. I vowed not long after I arrived here to serve you in any way I could just so I could remain near you. I would adore being your wife.”
Celeste put her arms around Jonathan Harper, Duke of Gwyndonmere, and tipped up her face to be kissed. Jonathan returned her embrace, kissing her deep and slow, like a thirsty man trying to make a sip of water last. She leaned into him, savoring his warmth, the strength of his muscles, the thud of his heart, and the way his breath quickened. Her own was a little faster, too, she realized. There was only one cure for it. She leaned into the kiss, putting in it all the fear, all the hope and all the love she had grown to feel for him.
Chapter 57
On a fine August morning, with the newly refurbished orangery shining behind them, Betty, Sally Ann, and Martha were in the wedding pavilion, putting the final finishing touches on Celeste’s wedding dress.
“This is so very strange,” Celeste said. “So much has changed in such a short time.”
“But wonderful,” Sally Ann said.
