“You wish to marry Hortense.” Those had been the first words out of Nick’s mouth upon receiving the news. “Youwish to marryHortense?” He’d frowned. “Doesshewish to marryyou?”
Jamie had snorted. He hadn’t been able to help himself. His brother truly didn’t have a high opinion of him.
Then Nick had narrowed his eyes. “What’s this all about?”
“You’ll know soon enough.” Jamie didn’t owe Nick the explanation his brother thought he did.
Nick’s face had gone like thunder. “I’ll know now. If you think to dally with Hortense, think again.”
“I wouldn’t treat her so.”
“Will the marriage be a true one?”
“On my end, yes.”
Nick searched Jamie with his gaze. “You’ll need a special license.”
“That’s why I came to you.”
“When is this wedding to take place?”
“Saturday.” When Nick hesitated, Jamie asked, “Is it possible?”
“For the Marquess of Clare? Of course.”
Something nagged at Jamie. “And a dress. She will need a dress.” A beat passed. “Make it a whole new wardrobe.”
“I know of someone.” Nick wrote a name—Galante: Dressmakers Extraordinaire—and an address on a piece of paper. “Tell them it’s for Hortense.”
“Hortense knows a dressmaker?” Jamie was shocked. “She’s not exactly wearing the latest Parisian creations.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Just tell them.”
Now, Jamie couldn’t help anticipating how she would look in the dress he’d chosen. He’d only seen it on the dress form, a confection of powder-blue silk and silver. It looked entirely composed of clear mountain sky and crisp sunlight.
She wouldn’t feel at ease in the dress, as such a garment placed a woman at the very center of a room’s attention, a place she wasn’t too comfortable occupying. She spent the majority of her time hiding herself away.
The sound of rushed footsteps click-clacked across marble just outside the chapel, and Jamie felt muscles tensing, bracing themselves. Mariana breezed through the open doorway, and the tension released from his body. His feelings were all up and down and no in-between. Deuced irritating.
Mariana dashed up the aisle, mischief in her eyes. Seating herself in the front pew, she said, “Your bride is on her way.”
Next came a rapidclickety-clackagainst marble, and Sir Bacon appeared at the end of the aisle, drawing laughter from all, even the dour bishop. The terrier raced toward Mariana’s outstretched hand. She scooped him up and settled him on her lap.
But one person remained to arrive.
The perspiration that had been relegated to Jamie’s palms broke out across his entire body. This was it, the moment his future would change.
Ifshe appeared.
She had every reason and right to bolt. He wouldn’t choose to be saddled with himself, given the option. He was arrogant and stubborn, a trifle argumentative, and wholly intent on his goals once he’d set his sights on them. In no small part were he and Hortense similar on those points.
In name only.
A promise he intended to honor.
At the end of the short aisle, she appeared, and all past promises, all words, faded into the inconsequential. The sight of her stole his breath away. She was a small woman, but what hadn’t been apparent were her feminine curves.Until now.
She should wear nothing but such dresses—she was made for them—for such a dress only highlighted the fact that Amelie Hortense Marchand—with her lithe figure, her silky black hair, and penetrating cerulean eyes—was a diamond of the first water.
