“Kezia Marie.” Marianne held her three-month-old niece and cooed softly. “Your mama’s blond hair and your papa’s blue eyes. And all the sweetness of your grandmamma.” She swayed back and forth, gazing at the tiny, perfect round face. “Rachel, how did you choose her name?”
Rachel watched from her chair, a maternal glow on her own face. While she resembled her pleasant-featured sister Susanna, this little lady was a true beauty, and motherhood seemed to enhance her loveliness. “My mother’s name was Kezia, a Bible name. Many girls in Nantucket are named for the daughters of Job. And of course, Marie is for your own mother. Frederick said it would sound silly to call her Kezia Maria, so we change the final a to an e.” Her fair forehead crinkled into a frown of concern. “I pray Lady Bennington won’t mind.”
Marianne laughed. “She will not mind in the least, but oh, how I wish Mama could be here to hold her first grandchild. She was quite thrilled to learn you were expecting.”
“Yes.” Rachel’s smooth forehead crinkled again. “Frederick does not often speak of it, but I know it breaks his heart to live so far from his parents. Well, his mother, at least.” Her face grew scarlet. “Oh, dear. Forgive me. I know your father has always doted on you... I mean, well, my goodness, I do not seem able to say this right at all.”
Marianne kissed her precious niece. “Never mind. I know how Papa has always favored me over my brothers.” Her voice caught. “All that has ended now.”
“Will you write to him?” Rachel lifted her arms to receive her baby, then opened her dressing gown to feed the fussing infant.
Marianne’s own arms suddenly felt empty, and she hugged herself. “Oh, yes. I must tell Papa that I stowed away, that Jamie did not kidnap me.” She walked to the second-story window and gazed toward the indigo fields, where numerous black slaves tilled the green plants. One day soon, she must question Frederick about keeping slaves. “But Jamie says he will not dare to go back.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t be wise.” Rachel smiled down at her daughter, humming softly. She had a sweet alto voice, and Marianne looked forward to singing duets with her. “Nor can Frederick return. While he has not told your father—or anyone here in St. Johns Towne—of his decision to support the American Revolution, he knows it would be too difficult to hide from Lord Bennington.”
“Yes, our father always finds a way of disconcerting his sons. My brothers are all good men, but Papa has never made it easy on any of them. I am surprised but grateful that Frederick has found the courage to go this far on his own, something I pray for our three brothers.” Pulling up the fan on her wrist, Marianne waved it before her face. The scrimshaw fan was a gift, carved by Rachel’s father, dear Mr. Folger. Marianne had instantly fallen in love with the old whaler who had raised Jamie so well. “My, did it take you long to grow accustomed to this heat?”
“I can’t really say I have.” Rachel lifted Kezia to her shoulder and patted her back. “I grew up in Massachusetts, and we can have very warm summers there, but the heat is nothing like East Florida’s. However, our many trees provide relief, and cool water comes from deep within the earth to fill our cisterns and revive us.” She gave Marianne a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry we can’t make you more comfortable.”
“I do not mean to complain.” Marianne chided herself for revealing her discomfort. “I would endure far worse to be with Jamie.”
“Yes, I understand.” Rachel kissed Kezia’s forehead. “Betty,” she called toward the bedroom door.
The maid soon appeared. “Yes, Mrs. Moberly.”
“Please change Kezia and see that she naps.” Rachel gently lifted her baby, and the maid cradled her in her arms. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Betty took the infant away.
“Now.” Rachel rose and walked to her wardrobe. “If you’ll help me into my gown, we can join the men.”
Marianne’s pulse raced. She had patiently waited for Rachel to complete her maternal duties. Now their attention could be focused on the wedding. Her soon-to-be sister quickly dressed, and they held hands and descended the staircase.
The rest of the family awaited them in the drawing room. Mr. and Mrs. Folger, handsome older newlyweds, who were Rachel’s father and Marianne’s cousin Lydia, sat hand in hand on the settee. Mr. Saunders and his Molly, along with their friend Mr. Patch, stood nearby. By the hearth, Jamie and Frederick laughed over some private joke, but both broke off abruptly at the appearance of Marianne and Rachel. Jamie was first across the room, with Frederick right behind, and they each claimed their respective ladies.
“Lady Marianne.” Jamie took both of her hands in his, and his dark eyes sparkled with tender affection. “Are you ready to become plain Mrs. Templeton?”
Before she could answer, Frederick nudged his shoulder. “Now, Templeton, remember what I said. She requires much pampering and many compliments, or you will be very sorry. Oh, and do not forget the diversions. She requires parties and balls—”
“Tut, tut.” Marianne tapped her brother’s arm with her new fan. “You are speaking of the child I used to be. In case you have not noticed...”
“She is a wise and beautiful woman,” Jamie finished. “Now, if we can proceed to the church...” The eagerness in his voice sent a thrill through Marianne’s heart, fanning her own excitement.
Amid much chatter and gaiety, the company exited the house, with the ladies taking their places in the carriage and the men riding horseback. Marianne laughed to hear Frederick teasing Jamie about having to ride, and she looked forward to seeing Jamie surprising her brother with his newfound ability to manage a horse more than adequately. Just as she herself planned to manage her home, wherever Jamie decided to settle. For within the hour, Lady Marianne Moberly would cease to exist, and the American housewife with the plain title of Mrs. James Templeton had every intention of taking very good care of her tall, brave, handsome husband.
Jamie thought his heart would burst for joy as he stood hand in hand with his bride before gray-haired Reverend Johnson, vicar of St. Johns Towne. In her new rosy-pink gown, hastily sewn by Rachel’s capable hands, Marianne was more than beautiful...she was exquisite. As the minister led them in their marriage vows, Jamie looked down into Marianne’s fathomless blue eyes and drew in a long breath to steady himself. He was humbled to think that he, an orphan, a former whaler, a merchant of no great wealth, could secure the love of this extraordinary woman. For his sake, she had given up a life of ease and plenty, and he would do all in his power to make it up to her.
And yet along with this priceless treasure God had bestowed upon him came another responsibility. If they were to live their lives in freedom, he must do his part to help the Revolution succeed. Perhaps his connection to Lord Bennington’s family would somehow provide the way. Perhaps that connection would be a hindrance. Only time would reveal how things would turn out. But this time, instead of making any assumptions about wealth or class or rank, Jamie would more diligently seek God’s will in the matter. And this time he and Marianne would pray together and wait for His answer, just as they must do in regard to his sister. Jamie’s appreciation for his bride’s tenacity grew when she declared they must not rest until they learned of Dinah’s whereabouts.
Mrs. Jamie Templeton. How good that sounded. As Marianne and her newly wedded husband left the quaint little church, she felt as if she were walking on a cloud on the way to their wedding supper.
The vicar’s young wife, who Marianne learned had once snubbed Rachel, had almost fallen into a swoon when introduced to Lady Marianne. Mrs. Johnson insisted upon preparing the wedding supper on the lawn behind the vicarage. For the sake of peace, Marianne had accepted with the condition that the entire community and Jamie’s crew would be invited.
While village children scampered about, musicians played and revelers ate from the lavish buffet, Jamie took Marianne’s hand and sought the quiet of the sanctuary to be alone with her.
“My dear, beautiful bride.” His eyes had not ceased to shine this entire day. “Now that we’re wed, we must plan for our future.” His intense gaze softened. “You know of course that I must find a way to serve the Cause.”
She gazed at him through sudden tears. “Yes, I know.”
“And you’re not afraid?”
She laughed softly. “I did not say that.” She drew his strong, callused hands up to her lips. “We do not know how the war will end. I pray His Majesty will see reason and let the colonies be free to establish their...our own country.” She brushed a hand across his tanned, well-formed cheek. “This I do know. God has brought us together, and while we both shall live, I ask only this—that anywhere you go, wherever it is in this world, you’ll let me go with you.”
A frown flitted across his noble brow, but he nodded. “To be apart from you is not to live at all.”
She returned a rueful smile. He had not promised what she asked. But somehow she understood. And even if he denied her request, she would never stop loving him. So much lay ahead of them, but owning Jamie Templeton’s heart was worth any sacrifice she must make.
What was she thinking? This was her wedding day! Casting off her gloom, she gave him a quick peck on one cheek, then tugged him toward the door. “Come, my darling husband. Our guests are waiting.”
He pulled her back into a firm embrace and kissed her until her knees grew weak. “Come, my darling wife. Our life is waiting.”
Keep reading for an excerpt from Snowbound with the Cowboy by Roxanne Rustand.