Stripped of his usual self-possession, Sternheim stammered out something about being honored, glared furiously at everyone around him and hurried away. The last citadel had fallen to her. Durmand, watching from the sidelines, murmured, “That's a very clever lady.”
“No,” Randolph said quietly. “That's a very kind lady.”
But Dottie heard none of this.
On the day of the first wedding Randolph and Dottie drove together through the streets of Wolfenberg to the cathedral. Soon Harold arrived and took his place before the altar, waiting for his bride.
Dottie had to admit that Sophie was magnificent as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm, her long train streaming behind her. She wondered if Randolph was thinking that this was the day Sophie should have become his wife, but when she stole a glance at him he was brushing something from his sleeve.
It was much worse at the wedding reception when protocol obliged her to dance with Harold while Randolph danced with the bride. Dottie refused to look their way even once, but she couldn't stop her thoughts following them jealously around the floor.
And then the next day it was all to do again, except that this time she was the bride, despairingly conscious that a person of only five foot one could never match Sophie in splendor.
Her snowy dress was lace, specially woven by Elluria's famous lace makers. Her veil was held by a pearl tiara, part of the crown jewels. More pearls hung about her neck and from her ears. Queen Dorothea II had worn these same jewels to her wedding in 1874. Now they adorned Queen Dorothea III, as she would be known after her coronation.
Sounds below told her that Randolph was leaving for the cathedral. She would have stolen a glimpse but a shocked Aunt Liz barred her way to the balcony, uttering dire warnings about “bad luck.”
A message from the stables gave her details of the horses that would draw her carriage, led by Jack, the oldest animal in service and coming to the end of his working life. To be drawn by Jack was a promise of good luck.
And she was going to need good luck, she thought. She'd taken a huge gamble to marry the man she loved, uncertain of his true feelings for her. And perhaps she would never truly know. That was the real gamble.
But she would take it and risk the consequences. What was life if you were afraid to seize your chances?
Her procession was a long one. As she stepped outside to be handed into her carriage by Sternheim, proud to bursting point, the leading horsemen were already turning out of the main gates. They were followed by two open carriages containing the six bridesmaids, then a division of the royal cavalry and finally the bridal carriage, escorted by outriders.
And all this was for her, little Dottie Hebden, from Wenford.
She never forgot that drive to the cathedral. She'd known her people had accepted her more readily than she'd dared to hope, but now, as she went through streets lined with cheering crowds, smiling, wishing her well, she understood how completely they'd taken her to their hearts. She'd come home. She was eager to accept this place as home, as hers. She could embrace them, as they had embraced her.
She thought of Randolph and the embrace they would share that night. And then surely she could win his heart as he had won hers? She would banish his last regret about Sophie. At that moment she came within the sound of the cathedral bells, greeting her with a wild, joyous clamor, and she smiled in response. Her heart was high and her courage was enough to dare anything.
In a few minutes they drew up outside the cathedral. Her bridesmaids were waiting to assist her with her train and the long veil, and then they were all ready for the walk down the aisle.
The cathedral was large enough to seat over two thousand, but Dottie saw only one man as she moved along the red carpet that led to the altar. Randolph stood, tall and proud, his face turned in her direction. He didn't smile. If anything, his face was rather stern, and gave no clue to his thoughts. Perhaps he saw her, or perhaps he saw another woman, the one he'd really wanted.
Seeing him from a distance she understood that he was imposing, not because of his rank but because of himself. Even without a title he would always draw the attention of men and women, especially women. It wasn't merely his fine looks, the handsome set of his head and his dark, expressive eyes that would attract them. They would look at him with calculating eyes, reading the promise of pleasure in those long limbs and hard, narrow hips. They would understand the power, no less fierce for being concealed by his formal clothes, and also by the innate restraint of his nature.
She herself didn't fully understand that power, but she suspected it, and the suspicion gave an edge to every thought, every feeling and sensation. As she stepped forward to stand by his side she had never felt more alive.
The ceremony was long and impressive, but it reached her from a distance. All that she was really aware of was Randolph stepping forward, his face paler than she'd ever seen it. He took her hand and for a moment she thought that his was shaking. But she must have imagined that.
In ancient, traditional words they took each other as man and wife. At last the priest smiled, looking from one to the other.
“You may kiss the bride,” he said.
Strangely, this was the moment for which she'd been nervous, for she still didn't know on which ground this marriage stood. But when Randolph lifted her veil it was as though the white gauze shut out the world, leaving only themselves. His eyes were kind, full of a question, and she understood, with astonishment, that he was as uncertain as herself.
His lips lay gently on hers for only a moment, but as he drew back they shared a smile that the congregation, murmuring with pleasure, couldn't see.
The organ burst into joy overhead as they turned to go back down the aisle, united.
As they stepped out into the sunlight the crowd cheered their relief. Now they really felt safe from Harold.
The cheering became deafening when Dottie tossed her bouquet high into the air, to go sailing over the crowd and land in a confusion of excited squeals. It was something royal brides never did, but she did it anyway.
As they drove back to the palace she thought ahead to the reception. So many long speeches, so much protocol, so many hours before she could be alone with him. After weeks of fencing she would find out what kind of man Randolph really was. What would she find? Would she be glad or sorry?
The reception moved too slowly for her. At last came the moment she had looked forward to, when her groom led her onto the floor and took her in his arms for the first waltz. They had danced before, but not like this. Now they were husband and wife.
“Are you sorry?” he asked, oddly grave for a bridegroom.
“Should I be? Only you know the answer.”
“Trust me, Dottie,” he said abruptly, as though she'd touched a nerve.
“I have another wedding present for you. I was saving it for later, but I want to tell you now. I've signed the letters patent.”
“You've what?”
“The ones that make you officially Prince Consort. I didn't like leaving it up in the air.”
She thought he would react. After all, this last step was the one he'd really wanted, but he only looked at her with an odd little smile.
“Randolph?”
“I'm sorry. I was thinking how lovely you look.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. Thank you. When can we escape and leave them all behind?”
“I don't think they'd mind if we went soon.”
There were grins and kindly laughter when the bride slipped away to change. Their entourage, which had gone on ahead, was minuscule by Dottie's usual standards; just Bertha, being rewarded for dealing cleverly with Harold, and a valet. Randolph drove the car himself.
It was dark when they reached Kellensee and she formed only a brief impression of the building, solid and comfortable, but not palatially huge. To please the servants they sat down to a small meal and toasted each other in champagne, but at last the servants melted away, and Randolph said, “Come with me.”
Taking her hand he led her, not upstairs, but to a room at the back of the house. It was an oak paneled room, dominated by a large bed, with a few small rugs on the floor and the bare necessities of furniture.
“Not what you expected?” Randolph asked, a little wryly.
