Read Online The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Cartland
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invitation.
At the same time she made him feel uncomfortable and he resented that, just as, he thought savagely, he resented everything else which was happening to him.
There was a stir at the end of the Church and his Best Man whispered:
“The bride has arrived! At least she has not kept you waiting!”
The reason Antonia was on time, the Duke told himself cynically, was not that she was considering his feelings but that she would not wish to keep the horses that were conveying her from her home to the Church waiting in this heat.
Having seen Felicity as she arrived, he could not help asking himself if he would not have been wiser to marry the girl Clarice had originally chosen for him rather than her unimpressive, horsy sister.
Wearing a bridesmaid’s gown of pale blue that matched her eyes, and carrying a bouquet of pink roses which echoed the wreath she wore in her fair hair, Felicity looked extremely pretty.
She was in a modest way with her pink and white beauty the counterpart of the Marchioness.
Felicity had curtsied to him, and as she rose she said in a soft voice which only he could hear:
“Thank you! Your Grace must know how very, very grateful I am.”
What other man, the Duke asked himself angrily, in his position and with his reputation, would be thanked by a pretty girl because he had not asked her to marry him?
He took a quick glance at Antonia as she came up the aisle on her father’s arm and told himself again he had made a mistake.
It was very difficult to see what Antonia looked like since she wore a Brussels lace veil over her face.
Her wedding-gown, which had a long train, was carried by two reluctant small children who were being almost forcibly propelled up the aisle by their Nurses.
Behind them, Felicity was the only bridesmaid.
The service was conducted by the Bishop of St. Albans and the local Vicar. The Bishop besides actually joining the couple in matrimony gave them an extremely boring address to which the Duke deliberately closed his ears.
Then there was the drive to The Towers under triumphal arches made in the village with small nosegays of flowers being thrown into the open carriage by the village children.
The Towers, with such a large crowd inside it, seemed even hotter and more oppressive than the Church had been.
By the time Antonia had changed and come downstairs the Duke was feeling that if he had to wait any longer he would leave alone.
Fortunately—and the Duke had no doubt she was thinking once again of the horses waiting for them—Antonia was a good deal quicker than most women would have been in the circumstances.
But now they had escaped, the Duke thought with satisfaction, as he brushed the rice from his coat and thought that the pelting of the bride and bridegroom with rice as a symbol of fertility was a pagan custom which should have been done away with a long time ago.
“Do you think we ought to stop and tell the coachman to throw away the horse-shoes and the boots which I can hear rattling away behind us?” Antonia asked.
“I have had a better idea than that,” the Duke replied. “When we are out of the village, and just before we come to the cross-roads, I have ordered my Phaeton to be waiting for us. It may be unconventional, but I thought it would be a quicker way of reaching London.”
“And much more pleasant than being cooped up in here for hours,” Antonia exclaimed, “it was clever of you to think of it!”
The admiration in her voice mitigated a little of the Duke’s irritation that he had been feeling all the morning.
They drove on in silence, and when the carriage came to a standstill Antonia jumped out eagerly and hurried up the road to where the Phaeton was waiting.
She greeted the grooms in charge, addressing them by name, the Duke noticed, then went to pat the team of four perfectly-matched chestnuts.
She talked to the horses as they tried to nuzzle their noses against her and the Duke was aware of an expression on her
At the same time she made him feel uncomfortable and he resented that, just as, he thought savagely, he resented everything else which was happening to him.
There was a stir at the end of the Church and his Best Man whispered:
“The bride has arrived! At least she has not kept you waiting!”
The reason Antonia was on time, the Duke told himself cynically, was not that she was considering his feelings but that she would not wish to keep the horses that were conveying her from her home to the Church waiting in this heat.
Having seen Felicity as she arrived, he could not help asking himself if he would not have been wiser to marry the girl Clarice had originally chosen for him rather than her unimpressive, horsy sister.
Wearing a bridesmaid’s gown of pale blue that matched her eyes, and carrying a bouquet of pink roses which echoed the wreath she wore in her fair hair, Felicity looked extremely pretty.
She was in a modest way with her pink and white beauty the counterpart of the Marchioness.
Felicity had curtsied to him, and as she rose she said in a soft voice which only he could hear:
“Thank you! Your Grace must know how very, very grateful I am.”
What other man, the Duke asked himself angrily, in his position and with his reputation, would be thanked by a pretty girl because he had not asked her to marry him?
He took a quick glance at Antonia as she came up the aisle on her father’s arm and told himself again he had made a mistake.
It was very difficult to see what Antonia looked like since she wore a Brussels lace veil over her face.
Her wedding-gown, which had a long train, was carried by two reluctant small children who were being almost forcibly propelled up the aisle by their Nurses.
Behind them, Felicity was the only bridesmaid.
The service was conducted by the Bishop of St. Albans and the local Vicar. The Bishop besides actually joining the couple in matrimony gave them an extremely boring address to which the Duke deliberately closed his ears.
Then there was the drive to The Towers under triumphal arches made in the village with small nosegays of flowers being thrown into the open carriage by the village children.
The Towers, with such a large crowd inside it, seemed even hotter and more oppressive than the Church had been.
By the time Antonia had changed and come downstairs the Duke was feeling that if he had to wait any longer he would leave alone.
Fortunately—and the Duke had no doubt she was thinking once again of the horses waiting for them—Antonia was a good deal quicker than most women would have been in the circumstances.
But now they had escaped, the Duke thought with satisfaction, as he brushed the rice from his coat and thought that the pelting of the bride and bridegroom with rice as a symbol of fertility was a pagan custom which should have been done away with a long time ago.
“Do you think we ought to stop and tell the coachman to throw away the horse-shoes and the boots which I can hear rattling away behind us?” Antonia asked.
“I have had a better idea than that,” the Duke replied. “When we are out of the village, and just before we come to the cross-roads, I have ordered my Phaeton to be waiting for us. It may be unconventional, but I thought it would be a quicker way of reaching London.”
“And much more pleasant than being cooped up in here for hours,” Antonia exclaimed, “it was clever of you to think of it!”
The admiration in her voice mitigated a little of the Duke’s irritation that he had been feeling all the morning.
They drove on in silence, and when the carriage came to a standstill Antonia jumped out eagerly and hurried up the road to where the Phaeton was waiting.
She greeted the grooms in charge, addressing them by name, the Duke noticed, then went to pat the team of four perfectly-matched chestnuts.
She talked to the horses as they tried to nuzzle their noses against her and the Duke was aware of an expression on her
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