Eight Days to go.
With his wedding only a matter of days away, Monsale had to avail himself of a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. An expensive privilege offered to only a few such as the nobility.
On his way home from Doctors’ Common, Monsale stopped by the home of George and Jane Hawkins in Coal Yard Lane. The pregnant Jane and her rounded baby belly greeted him at the door.
“Your grace, what a lovely surprise. Come in.”
As he stepped through the front door into the cozy, old home, Jane called upstairs to her husband. “George, Monsale is here.”
The thud of heavy boots on the narrow, oak stairs announced the arrival of the Honorable George Hawkins. “Good morning. You are up and about early. It’s just past eleven.”
Monsale ignored the remark about his habit of being a late riser. He had never been an early bird. Late the previous night he had sent word to his friends of his impending marriage and an invitation to the wedding at Monsale Castle.
“Lots to do before the wedding. I had assumed that a chap just turned up and stood in front of the minister, said yes a few times, and that was it,” he replied.
He accepted a congratulatory kiss on the cheek from Jane. “I hope you will be very happy.”
They followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen which was situated at the rear of the house. The house overlooked a small, well-tended plot of land filled with vegetables and raised herb beds. Monsale’s gaze roamed appreciatively over the garden as he pulled out a chair and sat.
“I must bring you some of my rose bushes to plant along the border. Make things look pretty.”
Jane and George exchanged a look of surprise. Monsale simply chuckled. “I am about to become a married man; I need to be able to talk about these things.”
“May I offer you a cup of tea or a slice of cake?” asked Jane.
“I think that would possibly be a bridge too far for the impending bachelor, my love. I think a whisky might be more welcome,” said George.
He kissed his wife and spoke quietly to her before Jane left the kitchen. The click of the front door closing soon followed.
“I didn’t mean to drive her out of the house,” said Monsale.
“You have always had a strange effect on women. But fear not, Jane has an appointment at Captain and Mrs. Jones house. Gus’s mother is hosting a luncheon for Evangeline. Apparently, she has taken quite a shine to her new daughter-in-law and is doing everything to make her feel welcome.”
It was a relief to hear that Mrs. Jones had forgiven the French-born Evangeline for having stolen her youngest son away to go and live in Brittany. “Gus says they are already planning to have his parents come to stay at Château-de-La-Roche. Captain Jones is interested in the work they are putting into the new roof beams that are being installed in the east wing of the main house.”
Repairs to the fire damaged château were going to take a long time. It was a pity Monsale wouldn’t ever be able to see them. France was the one country he would never dare to try to visit again. There were still several outstanding warrants for his arrest. The French navy wasn’t likely to ever forgive the man who had stolen three of their ships.
George took a seat in a chair on the opposite side of the table from where Monsale sat. He produced a whisky flask from his jacket pocket and offered it to him. Monsale shook his head. “No, I have too many things to do this afternoon.”
His friend narrowed his eyes. “Are you well?”
“Yes. Just a little…” he sighed.
“A little what?”
The words stuck in his mouth. It was hard enough to accept that he was nervous, saying it was nigh on impossible.
“I’m a little unsure of myself. Marriage is a huge step.”
Especially when it likely included him having to make the sacrifice that the rest of the rogues of the road had all done as they took on wives. Giving up the darker side of the business. Setting aside illegal work and doing his best to become an honest man was going to take some doing.
Monsale had wrestled with the problem for the past year, long before the Prince of Wales had thrown the fealty oath into the mix. If he was going to ever be a father who his children could look up to, he had to move on from a life of crime.
“How did you do it?” he asked.
A look of realization appeared on George’s face. “You are not worried about getting married, it’s the other thing that concerns you. Walking away from the old life? Ah, yes, my friend, I can understand exactly how you are feeling right now. I must be honest with you, its bloody scary. For a time, I wasn’t sure I could do it.”
“But you did.”
“Yes. Love makes you reassess everything. When it came down to a choice between having Jane in my life or staying a thief, the decision was surprisingly easy. I’m just not sure how you will deal with it.”
George left the rest of the obvious unsaid. He had given up his life of crime for a woman he loved. Monsale was getting married because he had to save his family fortune. Love wasn’t playing a part in it.
“I’ve been under no illusion that it would take time to untangle myself from the web of dubious business deals I’ve been mixed up in, but over the past year, I have been slowly pulling back from them. The only major outstanding piece is the smuggling operation, and that’s more down to Gus’s reluctance to give it up,” replied Monsale.
The McNeal family hadn’t always been criminals. Before the death of his wife, James McNeal, had been a good man who only dabbled in the odd bit of government sanctioned privateering. Grief had seen him throw his respectable life away and become a full-blown pirate, taking Andrew with him.
George took a sip from the whisky flask, then stuffed it back into his jacket.
“If you have been withdrawing from the life over the past year, you must have had in mind to marry sometime soon. Which means, knowing you your grace, that a particular woman must have been on your mind. And I don’t mean Lady Euphemia Marshall.”
He held out his hand, and George quickly passed him the flask. Flipping it open, Monsale took a long drink.
“I gave Naomi every chance to put her name on the list. She repeatedly refused. A man can only take no for an answer, so many times.”
George winced. He and Jane were good friends of Naomi, which made this whole thing painfully awkward.
“I just wonder if perhaps you didn’t give her a chance. Jane doesn’t think you treated her very well. Says you shouldn’t have ever put Naomi in the position where she had to compete to become your duchess.”
Thank you, Jane, I could have done with your sage advice earlier.
“It’s done. So just leave it alone. Besides, the last time Naomi and I spoke, she told me she hated me.”
He wasn’t going to make mention that he had been kissing Naomi and trying to grope her breast at the time. Or that she had struck him with some force.
The look on her face before she had slapped his face, had kept Monsale awake the previous night. He should have been staring at the ceiling worrying about his impending marriage, but instead all he could think of was Naomi’s soft sighs and the overwhelming sense that she would have given him everything there and then if only he had said those three little words.
“Be my duchess.”
Tell yourself all the lies you want. They are not the words she needs to hear first from your lips. She wants to hear the other three little words.