She had already made a hugely consequential choice of answer once tonight. Now she was going to have to do it all over again. But the finality of this one was so...enormousthat her mind was threatening to shut down altogether.
Tomorrow?
She had said in the hearing of the duke and duchess no more than half an hour ago that she loved him. She still did not know if it was the truth, though she could not in all good conscience have said no. But admitting to loving a man—or thinking that perhaps maybe one just might love him—was a far different thing from agreeing to marry him. Marriage was forever. For better or worse. Getting married was something she wanted to feelgoodabout. Her wedding, that once-in-a-lifetime event, was something she wanted to plan with meticulous care. It was something for which she wanted her family about her. Her wedding day ought to be the happiest of her life.
Tomorrow?At two o’clock in the afternoon? Less than twenty-four hours from now? Withthe Marquess of Roathas her bridegroom and then as her husband for the rest of her life? The man she had hated above all others for four long years?
All because a dying man was to be placated?
Shelovedthat old man, she realized. And the duchess. And Jenny and Lady Catherine. Even Jenny’s sister and her family. Fromthe first day she had been drawn to them all as she never had been to any other family except her own.
But not tohim.
It had seemed the irony of all ironies that all these people she had come to love werehisfamily.
Tomorrow?
She had no idea how much time had passed since he had asked the question. But he had not moved—or removed his gaze from hers. She had not moved either. It would be surprising if there were not ten dents in the doorknob at her back by the time she finally let go, so hard was she gripping it.
Tomorrow?
“Yes,” she said.
And she felt that the one small word was like a physical thing, expanding to fill the room and seal her fate and his.
He moved then. He removed his elbow from the mantel and made her what looked like a curt bow. His expression did not change.
“Thank you,” he said. “I shall devote my life to ensuring that you never regret your decision. Allow me to escort you back to Jenny’s sitting room. I must go and report to my grandfather.”
He took her upper arm in a firm grasp, almost as though he were leading a prisoner away, and opened the door. He did not abandon her outside Jenny’s room, however. He opened the door, paused to look into the five expectant faces turned his way, and spoke.
“Lady Philippa Ware has done me the honor of agreeing to marry me tomorrow at two o’clock downstairs in the drawing room,” he said. “Excuse me now, please. I must return to Grandpapa’s room. There are arrangements to be made.”
And Philippa was left standing in the doorway, staring mutely at five people who stared mutely back.
—
When she awoke the following morning, Philippa yawned and stretched beneath the covers, considered turning onto her side and allowing herself to slip back into slumber for a little while longer, and... shot up into a full sitting position.
Good heavens, she hadslept! She had not expected to sleep ever again.
The events of last evening flooded into her mind in all their jumbled intensity. There had been enough of them, not to mention emotions, to fill a month of days and nights. But they had all happened within a few hours.
Today was her wedding day. If, that was...
There was a huge and heavyif.
She was almost not surprised when she realized her mother was sitting quietly by the window, half turned toward a narrow opening in the curtains. A band of sunlight was beaming through it.
“Did the Duke of Wilby live through the night?” Philippa asked. Foolish question. How was her mother supposed to know?
“He did,” her mother said. “He was awake when Kitty wrote me an hour ago and was demanding coffee, which he had been strictly forbidden to have.”
An hour ago.What time is it?She looked at the clock on the mantel.
“Half pastnine?” she said, pushing back her tangled hair from her face with both hands. It had been almost half past two when she blew out the candle beside her bed. She had tossed and turned for an hour or more after that. But she must have slept soundly for at least five hours. She could not even recall any dreams.
“You needed the sleep,” her mother said. “I am to let you know that all is arranged atthatend, Pippa, though how everything could have been done during the night and very early morning hours I do not know. We are all to attend the ceremony, of course. Any other relatives we have in London are welcome to attend too. Ben has gone to Eloise and Vincent’s to invite them, and Nicholas and Owen have gone to invite Charles and Marian and will then call upon George.”
