In the face of such worries, Will nodded to his future in-law, silently letting him know he understood the difficulties of life, hoping he would understand that he would support him even when things were hard.
Her uncle shakily passed Beatrice’s hand over to him. Beatrice flinched for a single moment, and he knew exactly why.
He leaned in as he took her hand. “I promise,” he whispered, “you are not simply passing from one owner to the next. You are about to become the most powerful woman in England, aside from the queen.”
“All because of you,” she whispered back.
He was not certain that it was a compliment.
He definitely could not entirely argue that point. So, instead he countered softly, “But it’s what you’ll make use of what I can give you that is important. I believe in you, Beatrice.”
She blinked rapidly, and for one moment, all her confidence vanished and she looked as doubtful as he had felt before she arrived.
Straightening her shoulders as one facing a firing squad with noblesse oblige, she turned to face the bishop.
The bishop looked at them both through glasses that were far less exciting than Beatrice’s own golden spectacles.
Said spectacles had slipped down her nose, and, much to his delight, she pushed them back up, a clear sign she was about to do something with purpose.
It was the most endearing habit. And oddly, it set him at ease.
He loved it.
As the bishop began the familiar preamble, William’s mind wandered. Wandered to Beatrice, wandered to the future, thinking what they might do with their days and their nights.
The very idea that he was going to get to spend the rest of his nights with Beatrice seemed almost impossible. And damned enticing.
He’d always known that in many ways he was fortunate, of course, because of all the things he’d been allowed and given in society. But the idea of endless nights with Beatrice? That was fortune indeed.
Some part of him had always been afraid that any joy he had would be ripped from him. After all, he’d known a great deal of tragedy. The idea that this could be taken away? He would not think on it.
No, he would not let himself linger in doubts. He’d think only of the possibilities ahead.
Beatrice and he would be triumphant when all had been tragedy in the past. They were choosing a different path, a different kind of marriage. And that…that would mean everything.
As the bishop finally asked him those fatal words, he said, without hesitation, “I do.”
William allowed his thoughts to slip away, considering Beatrice, watching her. He loved her face, how animated it was as she listened. When the word “obey” was intoned, she cringed.
He’d wished that they could have omitted it from the ceremony. But the bishop had insisted such a thing was impossible; dogma stated that it must be said. And so he’d agreed, but as the word was said, he squeezed Beatrice’s hand, an assurance that he would never expect her to obey him. How could you expect such a splendid creature to obey? That would be the height of insult to her, and any man who expected his wife to obey him was looking for a very boring life indeed.
No, it was the fact that Beatrice was so vital, so capable, so independent that made him want her so.
And finally, when it came time for her to say “I do,” she said it so firmly and so fiercely, he knew that she was choosing to be as committed to this venture as he.
When he slipped the ring onto her finger, it did not feel like a moment of ownership. It felt like a moment in which they were both freeing themselves from all the expectations of society.
Will smiled down at her.
She met that smile with one of her own. A smile full of determination to succeed.
Yes, this was the beginning of something beautiful, and he would not let them fail.
Chapter Eighteen
Beatrice wondered at the fact that the wedding had to take place in the morning.
It seemed terribly inconvenient and most stressful to the bride and groom to have to get married in the morning and wait for hours upon hours upon hours for the wedding night.