February 10, 1840
"Good Morning, Lord Melbourne…" his valet's voice chimed as it filled the dark bedroom and roused Melbourne from his sleep.
Melbourne inhaled sharply and, turning over on his pillow, blinked one eye open and, then groaned quietly and shifted under his blankets.
"Wedding day. No Parliament. Go away."
"I know, Sir," Marc said with a good humored scoff as he lay Melbourne's breakfast on the side table then moved to the large bay windows on the other side of the room, "But, you asked to be awakened, My Lord."
"Well, I retract it…" Melbourne grumbled, keeping his eyes closed
"I understand, Sir. And I'm sorry to have to do this considering the night you had last night, but you need to be at St. James' Palace by—" Marc started as he pulled back the curtains to let the early morning light flood in.
"Ah!" Melbourne cried and rolled over, throwing one of the feather pillows over his face to shield himself, turning his back to Marc as the valet walked over to the bed and eyed the empty bourbon bottle sitting there.
"My Lord, I'm sure you'll feel better after you've had your breakfast," Mark assured him as he picked up the empty bottle and the used glass and tucked them under one arm.
"What time is it?" Melbourne grumbled
"For your own sanity, Sir," Mark responded as he pulled Melbourne's usual three newspapers from under his other arm, "I shall not answer that question at the present except to say it's early...it's very early, Sir."
Melbourne peeked out from under his pillow at the small clock on his opposite bed side table—the one that used to be his wife's.
"Oh…my…God…" he moaned, "Five-thirty?!"
"Yes, Sir…" Marc replied as pulled Melbourne's long robe from a nearby chair and tossed it onto the end of the canopy bed, "I believe there is one of those in the morning as well as the evening, fancy that…"
"Die…" Melbourne responded, tightening the pillow around his head
"I've brought your newspapers, Sir," Marc said gently, trying to coax Melbourne, "And I believe, according to the servants, there is quite the hysterical caricature of Peel in the morning Times that is worth a look…"
To Marc's amusement Melbourne's arm shot out backwards from under the covers to receive the newspaper, his hand grasping at air.
"Sorry, Sir," Marc lamented, pulling the paper out of reach, then turned on heel and started to walk back over to the side table, "My Lord Melbourne only gets his paper if he gets up and eats his breakfast like a good chap."
"Die, twice…" Melbourne growled
"As you wish, Sir." Marc replied with a half-smile as he placed the newspapers next to Melbourne's breakfast tray.
Finally, Marc heard Melbourne exhale and the prime minister removed the pillow from over his head, tossed it aside and turned over.
"Good Morning, Sir," Marc smiled, "Sleep well?"
"Monday…kill…ridiculous sword…sleep…" Melbourne mumbled as he pulled himself upright and sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed and forlornly put his face in his hands
"Forgive me if I don't respond, Sir," Marc replied, squinting, "I didn't quite catch all of that—"
"That's because it's five-thirty in the morning!" Melbourne whimpered as he pointed at the clock then blindly started reaching for his dressing gown lying at the end of his bed.
"I suppose right now My Lord is wishing he had supported the Lord Chamberlain's push for an evening wedding?" Marc quipped
"Die." Melbourne deadpanned with as smirk as he threw the dressing robe over his shoulders and came to his feet
# # # # # # #
St. James Palace, London
Lord Melbourne's chocolate eyes focused on his gloves as he turned them over and over impatiently in his hands, seated cross-legged, dressed in his formal coat and trousers, in one of the ornamental chairs in the throne room in the presence of the Lord Uxbridge, the Lord Belfast and the Duke of Sussex.
Prince Albert had arrived over an hour earlier and now stood with his brother, Ernest and his Uncle King Leopold just outside the chapel, waiting for the royal procession to send him in to the alter first.
The Queen arrived from Buckingham Palace soon after her bridegroom, royal trumpets and choir announcing her arrival, but she immediately retired to one of the dressing rooms with her attendants to finish dressing and put the final touches on her gown and hair.
Melbourne envied Albert.
He didn't even look nervous.
Melbourne smirked as he thought to his own wedding day to Caroline many years earlier.
He had been a nervous, excited wreck that spring day and nearly put her ring on the wrong finger…
It seemed calming and reassuring, yet odd, that Albert wasn't having typical wedding day jitters.
"Pull…Pull!" The Duke of Sussex suddenly snapped at his attendant who was trying in vain to straighten the bottom of the Duke's dress coat over his trousers, bringing Melbourne out of his thoughts.
Melbourne cast his eyes over to the Duke as the portly little fellow fixed the brocade on his jacket front as he watched the young man's progress in one of the side mirrors on the wall, "Don't be a dandy, man! I'm not a china doll for Heaven's sake! Pull! I don't want all of London to see my breeches!"
Melbourne bit his lip to suppress any laughter as he moved his eyes to Lord Belfast and Lord Uxbridge who were not doing as well, practically hanging on to each other to keep from keeling over in laughter in the corner at the Duke's expense.
"Lord Melbourne," the Lord Chamberlain suddenly appeared in the doorway
Melbourne's gaze shifted to the tall gangling fellow who ran the Queen's household and all royal events.
Bless him. The poor man looked like he was ready to implode with the stress of the day and it was barely 11am.
"My Lord," the Lord Chamberlain inclined his head respectfully, "It is time for the Queen's escort, Sir."
Melbourne swallowed nervously, then twisting his gloves in his hand one final time, slapped them against his knee, then quickly stood from his chair and straightened the waist of his blue dress jacket, then his sleeves.
"Of course," he said, trying to keep his voice even as he made his way across the marble floor toward the Lord Chamberlain and his assistant.
With a short nod, he passed the two men and walked down the long hallway toward the chapel dressing rooms at the back of the sanctuary.
When he reached the large ornate wooden door he knew the Queen and her ladies would be in, he reached out to knock, but hesitated for a moment, exhaling nervously as he let his right fist hang in mid-air.
He hated to say it, because he truly valued the Queen's happiness above his own, but Lord Melbourne had been dreading this day for quite some time.
Actually, since the moment he had let her walk away from him that day at Brocket Hall.
Closing his eyes and steeling himself, Melbourne finally let his hand fall on the door and give a sharp knock.
There was a few moments of pause, then the shuffle of feet, then the lock was thrown from the door and a young red-haired woman in a cream colored dress, arrived, holding the large, heavy door open just enough that all the Prime Minister saw was her.
"Yes, Sir?" she asked with a kind smile, curtsying to Lord Melbourne formally
"It is time for the procession. I am here to escort the Queen to the throne room."
"It's alright, Marianna, let him in. I'm ready," Victoria's voice sounded behind the door and Marianna looked over her shoulder and nodded before turning back to Melbourne and pulled the door open wide.
When Marianna and the door were no longer blocking his sight, Melbourne's eyes softened and he gave a quiet gasp of awe as Victoria stepped down from her dressing pedestal in front of a large dome of mirrors on the other side of the room.
The morning light hit her through the stained glass window, surrounding her like a large, brilliant, halo as she walked toward him, and for about ten seconds, Melbourne thought he had died and gone to Heaven.
"Well?" Victoria smiled as she twirled gingerly before him in her white cream colored dress, adorned on the sleeves and bodice with gold brocade and a sapphire broach, her lace veil moving perfectly with her, "What do you think, Lord Melbourne?"
But, Melbourne could only just stand there in stunned silence, looking her up and down.
Victoria's face suddenly softened when she noticed the depth of pain suddenly coming to his eyes.
After another moment, when he still hadn't said anything, Victoria turned to her ladies, "Will you excuse us for a moment, please?"
The ladies looked surprised, but nodded and curtsied before moving swiftly past Melbourne and out the door.
But, Melbourne didn't notice them.
He only kept his eyes on Victoria.
When the door closed behind the last lady, Melbourne let out a sigh and closed his eyes.
Victoria immediately closed the distance between them and gently took hold of his hands, noticeably flinching for a brief moment when she felt the electricity spark between their skin.
Melbourne opened his eyes and looked down to her, "Forgive me, Ma'am."
"There is nothing to forgive, Lord Melbourne," Victoria smiled sweetly, then looked down at her hands, "It is a happy day for me..." she started
"And cruel one for me…" Melbourne added in a low voice, he too looking down to their intertwined hands, "Therefore, I must beg your forgiveness, Ma'am."
Victoria's eyes suddenly lifted to meet his, "But, why?"
"I think, in your heart...you know why, Ma'am," Melbourne whispered giving a sad smile
Victoria closed her eyes at his words, then after a moment, whispered back, "I love Albert."
"I know," Melbourne replied immediately, bringing his right hand tentatively to her cheek, willing her to open her eyes at his touch and she did as he continued, " I know. I know that it is my duty to step aside and I wish you every happiness, Ma'am. I truly mean that. I would never be that selfish—I could never be selfish enough to—"
"I know," Victoria said earnestly, leaning into his hand and giving a sad smile of her own, "I remember our conversation at Brocket Hall, Lord M."
There was a long tense silence between them before Lord Melbourne leaned forward slowly and said softly, "I think it was seeing you like this...in that dress...so radiant...so happy..."
Lord Melbourne sighed, "You don't know how I wish that I had…"
Suddenly, he pulled back and his words trailed off
"Had, what?" Victoria encouraged softly, her eyes never leaving his
Lord Melbourne's eyes suddenly shifted down to her lips and lingered there as he leaned forward again and said in a low voice
"That I had taken you in my arms and kissed you, Ma'am…..Just once…"
"Once?" Victoria asked softly, mesmerized by his eyes, his gentle hand cradling her face…all of it.
"Yes, Ma'am," Lord Melbourne whispered, his eyes shifting up to meet hers again, "Even if it was for the only and last time. Just one kiss with you would have lasted me a lifetime."
Victoria pursed her lips for a moment as she studied Lord Melbourne's face and the regret in his eyes before she stepped in closer to him and said confidently, "If that is what you still desire, Lord Melbourne…take your kiss now before I am a married woman before God and my realm…and feel…know…keep in your mind…what might have been, but can never be again."
A tortured look suddenly crossed Lord Melbourne's face, the conflict in his heart and mind at his Queen's words suddenly evident as the fingers of the hand on the side of her face, caressed her cheek and he thought about her offer.
Victoria took in soft breaths, trying to keep them steady to hide her nervous anticipation, as she waited for his response.
A moment that felt like an eternity passed as the tension between them grew…
Melbourne's breath became unsteady as he moved closer… and closer…seeming to close the gap between them…
Until, finally, Lord Melbourne slowly lowered his hand from her face and took a measured step back, the hand becoming a closed fist of frustration and calculated restraint at his side, his eyes never leaving Victoria's.
Victoria smirked sadly, her eyes clearing showing a small amount of disappointment as Lord Melbourne said in a kind, gentle voice, albeit a little unsteady with emotion, "Allow me to tell you that you look beautiful, Ma'am…and leave it there. For I should leave it there."
Then he bowed formally at the waist.
Victoria's face softened and she nodded, then turned on her heel and walked over to a small side table next to one of the mirrors where her bouquet of orange blossoms lay.
When she turned back, however, she gasped when she came face to face with Lord Melbourne, who had quickly, quietly and unexpectedly closed the gap across the room between them.
"According to the Tories, I'm going to Hell..." he whispered breathless, his eyes darkening with lust before he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and pulled her to him, "And if so, let it be for this!"
And then Victoria felt Lord Melbourne lean forward and capture her lips with his.
It started out passionate, but chaste on Melbourne's part. However, when he, like a gentleman, eased back to release her lips and give her a chance to rebuff him, he felt Victoria fall into him and kiss him back eagerly...and it stoked a fire in him that had burned steadily for far too long.
Lord Melbourne smiled against her lips just before their kiss deepened and she dropped her bouquet as she brought her hands to rest gently on his shoulders as she urged him on, relishing the feel of his lips tangling passionately with hers.
Suddenly, the royal trumpets sounded signaling the start of the royal procession and Melbourne reluctantly, but gently pulled back and released Victoria's lips, letting his linger over hers for a long moment before he slowly released his arm from around her waist and after planting a kiss on her nose, then her forehead, whispered against her skin, "May my soul make it to Heaven before the devil knows I'm dead…"
Victoria exhaled, her eyes dancing with happiness as she watched him stepped back gingerly, a smirk of satisfaction coming to his face.
They locked eyes for a long moment before he looked down to the ground at her feet briefly before saying, "Allow me, Ma'am."
Then he gracefully fell to one knee and picked up her fallen bouquet.
In another swift motion, he straightened and handed it to her.
She received it, then watched him stand, straighten his waist coat, then put on his gloves one at a time.
When he was finished, Melbourne gave her a small smile, turned toward the door and then offered her his right gloved hand as a formal anchor.
Taking in a deep breath to collect herself, Victoria placed her left hand over the top of his gloved one.
"Ma'am?" he asked, inclining his head and, after a moment, Victoria smiled and nodded her assent.
Melbourne reached for the door with his free hand and opened it, leading Victoria gracefully into the sanctuary hallway past Victoria's waiting ladies and attendants, who all curtsied deep in her presence.
Slowly, Melbourne led her toward the throne room, neither of them saying a word, but their connection humming between them as they moved.
When they finally reached the throne room, Melbourne paused just outside the doorway as the Lord Belfast and the Lord Uxbridge walked out to meet them.
They both bowed deeply to the Queen at the waist, before falling in line behind the formation of ladies and attendants at the Queen and Melbourne's back.
When the Duke of Sussex, Victoria's uncle, stepped forward, Melbourne bowed deeply in respect of his majesty, then upon straightening, released Victoria's hand and placed it formally over the Duke's own.
Victoria looked over her shoulder to Lord Melbourne and he gave a gentle smile and an encouraging nod.
A steward immediately appeared at Lord Melbourne's side and, holding the Sword of State long ways in his hands, bowed as he presented it to the Prime Minister.
Melbourne received it with the grace and respect it deserved, then turning toward the Duke and the Queen, firmly holding the hilt with both hands, raised the sword upright in honor, his face stoic.
Then turning swiftly on his heel, started to walking slowly and surely, the State Sword held out in front of him, leading the Queen's procession toward the chapel and down the aisle, past hundreds of royal family members and peers, as the organ began to play and the choir sang.
Lord Melbourne knew that, with every step, he was leading the Queen to her destiny...
To her new husband and away from him.
But, he had his kiss.
And it had been once.
But, as he reached the end of the aisle and took up his position to the left of the altar, he gave a small, knowing smirk behind the Sword of State.
For he knew that he had been right.
The kiss they shared would last a lifetime and he would carry a torch for the Queen for the rest of his life.