A Tenacious Trents Wedding: Tenacious Trents, #9

By Jane Charles

A SECOND EPILOGUE: Catch up with the Trents, meet up with old friends, and possibly meet someone new.

 Dearest Reader,

     You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Jonathan Bridges and Miss Genviève Mirabelle. The marriage is to take place at the Church of St. George, Hanover Square, Mayfair, London, on May 1, 1815 at two in the afternoon. I am fully aware that this is not a proper or appropriate time for a wedding. However, the church has been quite busy of late, sometimes with two and three weddings scheduled a day, and neither the bride nor groom were willing to wait weeks just so they can be married before noon. Thus, they have expedited matters and obtained a Special License. This was mainly due to Mr. Bridges not willing to wait longer than necessary to make Miss Mirabelle his bride. 

A wedding breakfast shall follow at the home of Lord and Lady Bentley, and a ball will be held that evening. I do hope you'll join us for this most celebrated event. Besides the Trents, friends and acquaintances you might be familiar with will also be in attendance, but I don't dare give their names away. That would ruin the surprise.

 The Right Honorable Countess of Bentley

• Language: English
• Publisher: Night Shift Publishing
• Release date: Sep 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516335466

Jane Charles

Jane Charles has lived in the Midwest her entire life. As a child she would more likely be found outside with a baseball than a book in her hand. In fact, Jane hated reading until she was sixteen. Out of boredom on a long road trip she borrowed her older sister’s historical romance and fell in love with reading. She long ago lost count of how many fiction novels she has read over the years and her love for them never died.  Along with romance she has a passion for history and the two soon combined when she penned her first historical romance.  What turned into a hobby became a passion, which has been fully supported by her husband, three children and three cats. JaneCharlesAuthor.com Jane can be contacted at: [e-mail] Twitter and FB: JaneACharle  

Book preview

An Invitation

Dearest Reader,

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Jonathan Bridges and Miss Genviève Mirabelle. The marriage is to take place at the Church of St. George, Hanover Square, Mayfair, London, on May 1, 1815, at two in the afternoon. I am fully aware that this is not a proper or appropriate time for a wedding. However, the church has been quite busy of late, sometimes with two and three weddings scheduled a day, and neither the bride nor groom were willing to wait weeks to be married before noon. Thus, they have expedited matters and obtained a Special License. This was mainly due to Mr. Bridges not willing to wait longer than necessary to make Miss Mirabella his bride. 

 A wedding breakfast shall follow at the home of Lord and Lady Bentley, and a ball to follow that evening. I do hope you’ll join us for this most celebrated event. Besides the Trents, friends, and acquaintances you might be familiar with will also be in attendance, but I don't dare give their names away. That would ruin the surprise.

 The Right Honorable Countess of Bentley

Rose, the Dowager Countess of Bentley

April, 1815

Rose Trent, Dowager Countess of Bentley, dabbed at her eyes as Geneviève Mirabelle began her walk down the aisle. She looked absolutely stunning in the sea blue satin gown with a gossamer overdress of soft green, trimmed with tiny pearls. Geneviève had not wanted anything so fine, or expensive, and insisted her best dress would do for the occasion, but Bentley ordered otherwise.

Clayton Trent, Earl of Bentley, the bride’s half-brother, was in charge of this day. The fine wedding at St. George’s, the wedding breakfast, though a luncheon in this case, and a ball to follow, were not because he favored Geneviève over his other three, half-sisters, but for the single purpose of sending a message to the haute ton. And, it all was about to begin with the exchange of vows.

He’d even paid the fee for a special license, all so the marriage to could take place today, on an already busy day for the Mayfair parish church, at two in the afternoon.

Mr. Jonathan Bridges waited for his bride, formally dressed in long, dark trousers, a black frock coat with claw hammer tails, and a silver and black striped waistcoat. His white cravat was expertly and intricately tied, and the smile on his face was evidence of the happiness he felt upon seeing his bride. The love in his light brown eyes when he looked at Geneviève was almost painful it was so beautiful.

Nobody had ever looked at Rose the way Bridges looked at Geneviève. Or, the way any of her stepsons looked at their wives. It was also long past the time that anyone would. She wasn’t a young woman any longer and the last of the children was about to be wed.

Rose lowered her head and chuckled to herself. None of them were children any longer. In fact, the only ones she’d known as children were the Trent brothers: Clayton, Jordan, Matthew, and John, though Clayton was only a few years younger than her. She’d been closer to his age than his father’s on the day she married. Despite the five years that separated them, she’d become Clayton’s stepmother when he was only ten.

Even though this was a cheerful day, and she was genuinely happy for Geneviève, Rose experienced a bit of melancholy as well. What was she do to with herself now? The boys never really needed her, though they cared for her, and took care of her after their father died, the girls no longer needed her guidance either.

A sigh escaped and Rose hoped that the others thought was due to the emotion of the wedding, but it was more because of her memories. So much had happened since her husband died. A day Rose would never forget because it brought relief, not sorrow. Though it was proper to go into mourning, and she retired to the country which was the respectable thing to do, not a single tear was shed for the man who had married her when she was but fifteen and he was five and thirty. The former Earl of Bentley was a cold, cruel man, and as horrible as it may be to admit, which she never did to anyone, she was glad to be rid of him. Only one good thing came from their marriage and that was Madeline, their daughter.

If only the secrets could have been buried with him. Secrets that she’d become aware of when Madeline was only fourteen. The secret that his second wife, Adele, was not dead, but very much alive, living in Paris with Bentley’s first daughter, Julia. Rose had kept that secret because of the shame it would bring her daughter. She didn’t care so much of Society learning that her marriage wasn’t valid, but she’d not stand by as the ton painted her daughter, Madeline, a bastard.

It all worked out in the end, however, for Madeline had fallen in love and married Lachlan Grant, Marquess of Brachton. Before the two ever exchanged vows, Brachton had known the truth, and accepted Madeline as his wife, not giving a fig about the circumstances of her birth. That was all Rose had ever wanted – for her daughter to be settled and content.

She glanced to her left, and at the young woman she’d birthed so many years ago. Her very own joy and bliss in a nightmare of a marriage. From the first moment she’d held her daughter, Rose finally understood why a wife endured her husband’s attention when required because the end reward of a beautiful child was well worth the price.

By the next spring, Adele had been located, as had Julia. The family soon discovered that the reason Adele had run away in the first place before Bentley sent her to Paris, was because she was expecting another child and refused to have it raised near the father. Having known Bentley and his quick temper and preference for the switch, Rose could not blame the woman for risking life and limb to be away from the man. Had she been older and more secure, she might have had the strength to do the same. Unfortunately, fear guided Rose’s actions and responses most of the time since she’d grown up in a home similar to the one Bentley ran. Rose learned at a very young age that it was best to remain out of sight when her father, and later her husband, was in a temper and did her best to protect those younger than she. The moment her husband had taken his last breath was the moment she fully relaxed for the first time in her life. It was probably no different than what a man felt upon stepping outside of prison after many long years.

The pregnancy Adele successfully hid from Bentley was that of twins, Hélène and Geneviève, the bride. Rose had grown closest to Geneviève. But, none of them needed her now. They had lives and husbands to watch after them and Rose had nobody of her own. Which was well and good, she supposed, as she had no need for a husband as Clayton had seen that she was financially secure. But, what was her purpose to be now? What was to become of her if she had no one to mother?

Perhaps it was good that she and Ada, Dowager Viscountess Acker, were taking a trip in the morning. They’d originally intended to depart for the Caribbean six weeks ago, along with Geneviève, but her stepdaughter’s betrothal halted those plans. Ada still insisted on traveling and thought a holiday in Edinburgh would not be remiss and Rose’s family was in full agreement. So, tomorrow she would depart on a ship provided by her newest son-in-law. Perhaps it was exactly what she needed at this moment. Her life had always been guided by others. From her father telling her what to do, then a cruel husband, and then her concern for her children. This was the first time in her life that she was able to do something for herself without fear of consequences.

Rose lifted her chin and smiled. Juliette and Hélène stood beside the bride, while John and Brachton served as witnesses beside Bridges. This chapter of her life might be closing, and an adventure was exactly what she