Lady Pamela (34 page)

Benjamin hurried toward her. She remained frozen in shock, staring at him, and as he came closer he saw that her feet were bleeding.

He swept her up in one movement. She buried her head in his neckcloth and wept. He carried her down the pier, and along the quay, and to his own coach, and ’twas some time, then, before the duke’s carriage moved from the quay. Time for words, and explanations.

Time for a proposal of marriage.

Yes, said Lady Pam.

* * * *

 Lady Detweiler was saddened to miss Lady Pamela’s wedding, but not overmuch, as Amanda had always preferred the practical to the sentimental.

’Twas fated for those two to marry, and well past time. So be it.

She and Millicent had been ensconced for a week on the
rue St. Honoré
, and were cheerfully making the rounds of Paris. Lady Millicent, to Amanda’s gratification, had interests beyond the latest style of ball gown. After visits to a few of the finer Parisian milliners–Lady Detweiler’s own fortune being more than adequate to the task of outfitting her young charge–Milly declared herself satisfied.

“I,” said Lady Millicent, “am tired of shopping.”

Amanda snorted in surprise.

“If we are to be in Paris,” added the girl, “should we not learn something of the history of the city? Good heavens, ’twas the site of the
Révolution
, and Napoleon, and–”

This, of course, was entirely to Lady Detweiler’s own tastes. And so the two extended their stay, visiting the ruins and cathedrals and palaces of the French capital. They walked through the
Place de la Concorde
and shuddered at its history, written in blood upon the stones beneath their feet, and even stood before the half-finished
Arc de Triomphe
.

Lady Pamela wrote Amanda of the wedding plans, and of her contentment in the circumstances. Lady Detweiler, rarely a good correspondent, was on this occasion quick to reply–

       True love, you say. I’ve little evidence of its existence, but if ’tis real, you deserve it above any other....        Be happy and amusing, as you always were, for there is more to be learned from simple happiness,I believe, than all the books of philosophy.

The guests had already taken their seats. The marquess waited. A rustle of silk and lace, and Lady Pamela stood before him, as beautiful as ever before. The joy shining from her eyes was enough to bring tears to his. He draped the veil gently over her face and tucked her hand under his elbow. Then Lord Jonathan Sinclair, the Marquess of Luton, led his sister down the flower-strewn aisle of the chapel.

for Finn

Copyright © 2003 by Amy Lake

Originally published by Five Star in 2003

Electronically published in 2006 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.