was more told we were getting married and instead of involving me in any of the decisions, he had made them all… even to the point of not telling me our wedding date till the night before!
What really irked me was that all of his decisions were, of course, perfect, from the flowers, to the music, to my gown. I wouldn’t change anything. Begrudgingly, I had to admit the man knew me inside and out.
Damn him.
He had also rightfully pointed out I would have probably found the entire process stressful and overwhelming with all the royal protocols that had to be followed. That was the problem with Richard. Whenever I had an issue with him, he always had an excellent reason, usually with my welfare in mind, as to why he acted or did something heavy-handed and domineering.
So here I was, staring at my reflection in an ancient oval mirror in some tucked away antechamber in Westminster Abbey, wondering how the hell I had gotten to this point.
The kaleidoscope spun.
I ran my hand down the silk bodice of my dress. It was a different one from that dreadful day of course but the dress design was still the same. There wasn’t the usual fuss about hair and makeup you’d expect on a bride’s wedding day since Richard insisted I keep a more natural, innocent look. My hair had been curled and piled loosely on top of my head. My makeup was done in simple pinks with only a little black eyeliner to define my lash line.
Instead of a diamond tiara, I wore a crown of orange blossoms with a simple tulle drape as the veil. Just like Queen Victoria. He had thought of everything.
Traditionally, the bride would arrive at the church by car or carriage and process into the abbey with a lot of fanfare, but Richard refused to allow it for safety reasons. I had been escorted into the church a few hours ago, literally under armed guard. My dressing room had two entrances, one into the church, the other into a hallway that led outside. Both of them were guarded by two men each. Richard wasn’t taking any chances.
The woman who came in to do my hair chatted about what a scandal my wedding was causing. Despite my thinking it was an absolute chaotic circus, it was apparently a scandalously small, understated wedding for a man of Richard’s prestige and standing. The fact that he was marrying me less than a month after we had announced our engagement and with fewer than two hundred guests in attendance had led to all sorts of speculation from pregnancy to Richard dying of a secret disease and wanting to secure his legacy.
None of them knew Richard… not like I did.
Despite his love of grand gestures and big surprises, which secretly I believed he loved only because it kept people off-balance and always guessing his intentions, Richard was a very private person. If he had truly had his way, we’d probably be getting married in the parlor of his estate followed by a simple wedding breakfast, as they had done in the Victorian era. Whether or not they realized it, Richard conceding to a wedding at Westminster with the queen in attendance was an enormous affair in his mind.
I turned at the discreet knock at the door.
As it opened, you could hear the blare of trumpets echoing around the hall.
The queen had arrived.
My stomach did a somersault.
I wished Richard was here to hold my hand and tell me everything would be okay. Because neither of our parents were still alive, I was being led down the aisle by some high-ranking aristocrat whom I had never met. The distance between now and that long aisle where Richard waited would feel like a football field. Especially with all those curious and judging eyes on me.
“Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Simmons as he entered the room. “We are almost ready for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Simmons.”
He turned to leave. “Oh, dear me, I almost forgot. I was told to give this to you. I’m terribly sorry that they opened it. Your security detail insisted on checking it first.”
Smiling, I took the small package from him. He left with a final warning for me to be ready in less than five minutes.
As I examined the package, I could see from the torn paper it was a book. Pulling it free of its gold wrapping, I realized it was a beautiful leather-bound copy of Pride and Prejudice.
Richard.
My