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“Only say yes if you think you can love me and we can care for each other the rest of our lives.” She tightened her grasp on his warm and sturdy hands. “I believe I’ve already answered that.” He chuckled and drew her so close that she wondered if her first kiss would be overlooking the Upper Loch. John merely looked into her eyes, his gaze steady and sure, full of promises. “You have made me the happiest of men, Your Royal Highness.” The warmth in her chest expanded to every limb. “If we are to marry, you can’t keep calling me Your Royal Highness.” “What am I allowed to call you?” “You
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“I have been most impressed that you have educated opinions,” she said. “They will be sorely needed if you are to stay your own man. Mama will want us living close to her, you know, but I want to live as a married woman in my own household. Making my own decisions, running the staff how I see fit, and ordering around my husband.” John’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You shall have your own household, my dear Louise.”
It is providence that Scottish nobility should join with the sovereign’s family.”
On the ride to Balmoral Castle, as Lord Hatherley led the conversation, Louise didn’t speak a word to John Campbell. She didn’t need to. His gaze upon her, an intensity that made her knees feel like water, told her everything she needed to know.
Mama might be the most powerful monarch in the civilized world, but she was also a mother who worried and cared about her children. A wife who had to carry on without her beloved husband. And a woman who was constantly in the spotlight. “I don’t know if I can attend dinner without bursting about the news,” Louise confessed. Mama chuckled. “You must, my dear. We will let everyone know at the proper time, but for now, you will have a lovely secret to keep close.”
“You may call me John, or Lorne, or husband dearest.”
“All right, March. But after my birthday.” “The seventeenth, right?” His mouth quirked. This time, she kicked his shin. John didn’t even flinch. “Oh, that’s right. The eighteenth. How could I forget?” He winked. “Your turn, Your Royal Highness.”
Louise’s imagination was vivid and hopeful, but the reality turned out quite different. The Duke did indeed come to Balmoral. Alone. Mama had requested it. She wanted to discuss the marriage contract and all the specifics without the interference of other family members, and that included the bride and groom.
The queen has offered to honor John with British peerage. I understand Her Majesty’s reasoning. She wants to elevate his rank in England and give him a seat in the House of Lords. This would remove his close association with Prime Minister Gladstone and the Liberal party and make him politically neutral.”
The Duke was watching her carefully. Waiting, she realized. She swallowed, then slowly, carefully said, “If John doesn’t accept the peerage title, I will stand by him. As his wife, Mrs. Lorne, the Marchioness of Argyll.” The Duke’s brows popped up. “You are willing to upset the queen?” Louise nearly laughed. “Mama and I have disagreed plenty, but there is one promise I must have faith in. She told me she wanted me to be happy. And if my husband is happy, then I shall be happy.”
Her given name upon his lips should have comforted her, but it didn’t. It only made her heart sink more. What if she lost him? Just when she’d found him?
John gazed at her, and she gazed right back. She waited for the agreement in his blue eyes, but it didn’t come. “I wouldn’t have proposed if I hadn’t already considered all the changes,” he said. “Marriage takes change, no matter what. I simply have a few more on my plate than the typical marquess.”
“The bigger question is yours, dearest Louise.” His endearment made her breath go shallow. “How so?” “Are you willing to be my marchioness?” She knew what he was asking. Was she willing to enter into a marriage with a commoner—a marriage in which she would be equal to his station, at least in Scotland? She’d already told the Duke her answer, and that hadn’t changed. “Yes.”
But from my viewpoint, you will be my wife, and no one else can interfere with that.” The tears were gone, replaced by relief. “So, you see, this is your decision, my love,” he murmured. “I’ve already made mine.” She saw it then. What she’d been waiting for. The conviction in his eyes—not of a temporary declaration—but of something deeper. A devotion that went to his very center. A commitment filled with a river of words that didn’t need to be spoken. “I’ve already made mine as well,” she whispered, “dearest John.”
As he erased all distance between them, she closed her eyes, wondering if this would be the moment. It was. John kissed her. One hand linked with hers, the other beneath her chin. Although only his mouth was pressed against hers, every part of her body flared warm. Her free hand curled around the lapel of his jacket, and she felt his smile against her mouth as she drew him nearer. He tasted of the cool Scottish breeze, yet he was so solid, warm, and . . . hers.
Not home to land and kindred wast thou brought, Nor laid ’mid trampled dead of battle won,— Nor after long life filled with duty done Was thine such death as thou thyself had’st sought! No, sadder far, with horror overwrought That end that gave to thee thy cruel grave Deep in blue chasms of some glacier cave, When Cervins perils thou, the first, had’st fought And conquered, Douglas! for in thee uprose In boyhood e’en a nature noble, free,— So gently brave with courtesy, that those Old Douglas knights, the “flowers of Chivalry,” Had joyed to see that in our times again A link of gold had graced
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Louise scanned her sister’s elegant handwriting. “Vicky has resorted to quoting her father-in-law. She says that the king of Prussia is most displeased that Princess Louise has chosen to lead a quiet life with a commoner instead of taking a position at the Berlin court by marrying his nephew.”
“The queen of Holland declared that I am stooping and entering a mésalliance.” Louise shrugged. “She’s not specifically wrong in her statement, but I still take offense to her tone.”
“What? Have you received another letter from the Crown Princess?” “How did you guess?” “How did I not guess?” John countered. “She writes you every week.” He paused. “And she will arrive tomorrow to give her opinion in person, I am sure. Has she changed her mind yet about me?” “Not quite.” Louise was trying not to let that thought ruin her birthday celebration. “Her letter informed me of the thorough disappointment from the king of Prussia.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “He’s most displeased, you know, and he considers my marriage to anyone who is not Prussian as a hostile act
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“I think I might love you for saying that, Lord Lorne.” The room seemed to go very still. No one had overheard them, but John’s eyes had fixated on her. Slowly, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss on her skin, just above her gloves. “It is a good thing that we are getting married this month then, my dear, and not the dreadful May you first suggested.” If they hadn’t been in a drawing room full of people, Louise would have pulled the man into her arms and kissed him soundly.
Their current plan was to spend four days at Claremont House, then return to Windsor before their early-April departure to Europe.
“There is one more thing, Mama,” Louise said, hoping that her timing wasn’t ill-mannered. Both the Duke and Duchess looked at her with interest. “We will be passing through Darmstadt. May we have permission to visit Alice and her family?” Louise might be marrying a commoner, one who did not have to seek a parent’s permission in all things, but she didn’t have the luxury. “I will think upon it,” the queen said.
“In private only, Lorne. And no one else may have that privilege. Not your siblings or your parents.” “Yes, ma’am,” John said humbly.
She’d sent a note to John, telling him that she had the beginnings of a fierce cold, and did he want to change his mind? He wrote back immediately to say he’d bring the bishop of London into her bedroom and perform the ceremony in their nightclothes if necessary. Louise had been smiling since. Well, at least when she wasn’t bemoaning her symptoms.
Upon her head, she wore a wreath of myrtle and orange blossoms she’d crafted herself. She’d also designed the short wedding veil of Honiton lace. Arthur, Leo, and Beatrice had given her three diamond brooches shaped as daisies, and she used them to hold her veil in place. The gift from John was her most treasured though—a bracelet of sapphire, diamonds, and pearls that could be worn as a pendant. She’d added it to her diamond necklace so that the gift could be on display. As a final touch, she wore two bracelets—an emerald one given to her by the Prince and Princess of Wales and a diamond
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The Order of the Thistle was the highest knighthood one could receive in Scotland. It was founded by King James VII of Scotland and represented the order of chivalry. Louise fully prepared herself for him to reject the queen’s offer, but instead, to her surprise, and perhaps the queen’s as well, John stepped forward.
Now that the formal ceremony and wedding meals were over, she was more than ready to begin life as a married woman. Wedding guests had lined the path to the carriage, and they threw handfuls of rice and satin shoes at the bride and groom. Louise laughed and ducked her head as the rice pelted her shoulders and collected in her hair. John Brown held a new broom that he’d throw after the carriage, in Highland tradition. Beyond the drive, there were still crowds of people at Windsor, watching their exit.
“You look quite the confection, my love,” John whispered in her ear. She let the words slide all the way to her heart as she tightened her hold on his hand.
John squeezed her hand. “Look. It’s raining flowers.” And it was. From the balconies and upper windows, people tossed out flowers as the carriage passed by. Louise stared at the flowers in wonder. They were dotting the street, making it seem as if they were driving through a garden.
John lifted out a shawl. “I am sure you won’t be needing this since I’ll keep you plenty warm. Shall I put it in the bottom drawer of the bureau?”
He returned her smile then closed the distance completely and kissed her. Slowly this time. They didn’t have to fear being walked in upon since a locked door separated them from the rest of the household. Louise returned the kiss, more fully than she ever had before. She didn’t know much of what happened between a husband and wife, but she trusted John, and that was more important to her right now.
“Hours?” “Felt like hours.” He leaned down and kissed the back of her neck. Warmth seared through Louise, and she drew in a shaky breath. “John . . .” “Yes, my love?” Her pulse thrummed harder. “Thank you for marrying me.” He smiled, then straightened and, quite deftly, removed the rest of the pins from her hair. Then before she could use the hairbrush herself, John picked it up and gently ran the brush through her light-brown locks.
She’d been married for two days now, and she and John had little cause to leave their suite except for meals. “Ignore it,” John said, his chest vibrating against her cheek. She’d curled next to him, her new favorite sleeping position. She understood now why mothers were so protective when it came to letting their daughters spend time with men.
“The Emperor Napoleon has arrived and needs our compassion. He’s looking forward to being received by you.”
John came up behind her and slipped his arms about her waist. She leaned back, letting the warmth of his arms encircle her.
“I am happy to be patient, my love, but I’ll need more than a kiss on the cheek as compensation.” Louise laughed, then she kissed him on the other cheek. Only when he drew her tight against him did she kiss him fully.
John smirked. “I come from a family full of sisters who are all accomplished, and I am sure if they had more options, they would excel. I’m a Liberal for a good reason, not because of my father, but because the progression of human rights, and women’s rights are part of my core beliefs.” She was keenly interested in his opinion; suddenly this was a very important thing to find out about her husband. “Do you think women are levelheaded enough to vote?” “Levelheaded?” John chuckled. “If that’s the requirement for voting, then most men should be exempt. I’ve never met a woman who couldn’t grasp
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“My dearest one,” he said softly, reaching across the space between them and taking her hand in his. “I see it in your eyes right now. You have dreams that you need to fulfill. And since you’re now my wife, I want to help you as a supporter of education for the poor, health reform, and women’s suffrage.”
For now, she drew his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss there.
“It’s Bertie and Alix . . . Their baby was born premature, and—” She handed over the telegram to John and buried her face in her hands. The poor, innocent child was born early, like his oldest brother, except this child—christened Alexander John Charles Albert—had not lived for more than a day.
Their honeymoon had been planned to span two months, but it felt like only a few short weeks. The highlight had been Florence, where John had spent the winter of 1867, and he took her around to his remembered haunts. They spent their days wandering through galleries, examining paintings and sculptures, eating at cafés, and deciding what to buy for their home together. They found art pieces, terracotta busts, and venetian blinds, but mostly they learned about each other’s tastes, likes, and dislikes.
If other countries, such as France and America allowed women to become doctors, then England would look like the elderly uncle who refused to leave his country estate when progress was knocking right at his front door. “Bringing together innovation and advancing commerce was your father’s vision, was it not?” John had said. “Prince Albert was the mastermind behind the Crystal Palace, and look what that did for the world—brought hundreds of countries together and thousands of brilliant minds into the same location. What is more fantastic than that?”
It was with these thoughts that Louise arrived with her husband in Kensington at the Argyll House in early June. Louise’s first moments were surreal. She was truly a married woman, and she would be living on her husband’s family property. She’d no longer reside under the queen’s roofs except for visits. John gave her the grand tour of the spacious house, with stained-glass windows overlooking the two staircases, a lovely library, and charming drawing rooms. Louise asked him, “How long has this house been in your family?” “Father purchased this house in 1853.” John kept ahold of her hand as
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“If I have more needs, then I’ll ask my husband. He should be around here somewhere.” “If you see him, let me know.” John’s blue eyes glimmered. “I’ve got other duties to attend rather than showing a princess around this estate.” Louise laughed and turned toward him. Looping her arms about his neck, she reveled in this instant of joy with her husband. Their private moments would be few and far between if she were to guess. The Argyll family was a large brood. John drew her close and kissed her softly.
“I love you, dear Louise,” he said. “I want you to know that. We are young in our marriage, but I am ever so happy that you chose me.”
“Do you think you’ll ever come to love me?” he asked. The hope in his voice made its way into her soul. It wasn’t really a question she had to scramble for an answer to. John was an intriguing man, a generous man, and the thought of not being married to him was something she couldn’t bear to consider. Perhaps that meant she loved him. “I think it’s too late for that.” His brows dipped, and a frown line crossed his forehead. “What do you mean?” “It means that I already love you.” She wondered if her heart might leap straight from her chest. John kissed her then. Not everything was perfect in
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“My life is busy and full, and I have an attentive husband.”
The Duke had gone to extremes with preparations, and now the queen wouldn’t be attending after all. She’d suffered from a bee sting in early August and was still experiencing aftereffects.
When they arrived in Arrochar, a tiny village in Loch Long, the Duke joined them aboard the steamer after it docked. “Thank the heavens you’ve arrived at last. I’ve been feeding hordes of people waiting for the celebration to commence. My inn, the Argyll Arms, is teeming with guests, and there’ve been yachts and steamers coming in by the day with supplies and passengers.”
He presented a Campbell tartan to her, woven into a shawl, and John helped her drape it over her shoulder and fasten it above her hip.
