“Yes, I recall what you said. You do not want to fuss. And yet this gown... It looks like a church-going dress.”
“Well, I am getting married in a chapel.”
“You know perfectly well what I mean, young lady. It looks like any Sunday gown. Not special. A wedding gown should be special. I felt like a princess when I married your uncle. I wanted that for you.”
Marianne took a deep breath and looked down at her gown. It was a perfectly respectable A-line gown in an off-white color with sleeves that went down to her wrists and lace around the hem and the cuffs.
Was it spectacular?
No, it was not—in fact, her aunt was right. It was a gown she had previously worn to church. She had had the hem trimmed and the lace added to make it a little bit more festive, but other than that, it was not anything outstanding.
She would wear a veil, and that would be that. No fuss where none was needed. After all, they were not getting married at Saint George’s, Hanover Square, or some other fancy church. They were getting married at Lucien’s estate, in the small chapel near the main house.
It would be the first time she would see her new home. Until now, she and Lucien had only met either at her aunt’s home orat Rhys and Charlotte’s home to discuss the wedding, the dowry, and the contract. It was unusual for a woman to be involved in such negotiations, but she had insisted, and fortunately, her brother-in-law was open-minded. As was Lucien. In fact, he was the one who had spoken up when her aunt had suggested that it was not necessary for Marianne to attend.
He had promised—he had insisted—to put clauses in the wedding contract, making it clear that she would receive a monthly allowance, regardless of where they resided at any present time. The wording had made Rhys chuckle, although his solicitor had commented that it was rather unusual. But in any case, Marianne’s future was secure. All she had to do today was take him as her lawfully wedded husband.
Ten minutes later, Evelyn and Charlotte arrived, and they rode to Marianne’s new estate together, while Aunt Eugenia took her own carriage, as she had decided to give the girls some time to themselves.
“You will love Wexford,” Charlotte said. “It is beautiful. Such a grand estate. There is a maze. And such a wonderful ballroom—it’s a shame it has never been used.”
“I did not know you had visited so often to know the estate so well.”
“I have only been twice. Rhys usually goes alone, but the two times I was there, Lucien and Rhys were so busy playing billiards and going hunting that I was left behind to entertain myself. And I did so by taking James and Henry exploring, and we ended upgetting lost in the maze. Lucien had to come rescue us. Take my word for it—leave yourself breadcrumbs when you explore it,” she said with a laugh. “Henry is no help.”
“I doubt I will be taking his son into the maze. Or anywhere, really. That is not part of the agreement.”
Evelyn shook her head. “You cannot honestly believe that this agreement will stand when it comes to the little boy,” her sister said.
“Truly, Marianne, I cannot believe that you think you can stay entirely away from anything related to the boy.”
“Notanythingrelated to him,” Marianne said. “Of course, I assume he will be present when we take meals, and I shall see him about the house. But I made it quite clear that I have no wish to raise him. Lucien has explained to him that I am not to be his new mama.”
“I see,” Charlotte said. “Well, if he explained it to him—” She and Evelyn looked at each other and chuckled.
“What is it that the two of you are laughing about? I see nothing funny about this.”
“What is funny is how clueless you are when it comes to the raising of children,” Evelyn explained. “Children, especially ones that young, cannot have things explained to them as though they were adults. You will be a woman living in his home. The littleboy will wish to bond with you—unless you intend to be cruel to him, which I cannot see.”
“Of course not. I had a mind to be an aunt to him. A distant aunt—not a close one like Aunt Eugenia. Not the sort of aunt that you spend a lot of time with, but the sort that comes at Christmastide.”
“Except you will be the type of aunt that is living in his house, whom he will see all day, every day,” Charlotte pointed out.
“Lucien believes it can work,” Marianne replied, although a new thought crept into her mind. What if he knew it was not going to work that way? What if he actually did want a mother for his child? Perhaps he did not want a wife—he had made that clear—but she had to admit it was peculiar for a widowed lord not to want to get married with the purpose of finding a wife for his child in mind. Was he tricking her? But no—he was Rhys’s good friend. And Rhys would not be friends with somebody who was so treacherous.
“Do not look so worried,” Charlotte said. “We did not say this to frighten you, only to make you open your eyes so you will not be shocked when things are not quite as you had imagined.”
“I am perfectly aware that life is not always what we planned. If it were, I would be at Saint Catherine’s right now,” Marianne said.
“You ought to be glad that our aunt brought you out of that place when she did,” said Evelyn. “If she hadn’t, you might nothave had the good fortune of meeting Lucien when you did and happened upon such a perfect opportunity.”
The conversation was cut short when they arrived at the Wexford estate. She glanced out of the window and gasped. The house was more than impressive—it was magnificent. It reminded her of one of the grand homes she’d seen in London, where Henry the 8thhad once lived.
The house was three stories tall with balconies at multiple levels. At the front, a grand portico was supported by six towering Corinthian columns.
Wide stone steps led up to the entrance, flanked by trimmed lawns that stretched out to either side. In the distance, she could see formal gardens and, beyond them, parkland that seemed to go on forever. Somewhere here was the maze, although she could not spot it from her current position.
They rode past the grand house and towards the chapel. As they did, they passed a collection of perhaps twenty or thirty carriages—guests that had already arrived. She knew that Nathaniel and Rhys would be inside. Rhys’s friend Gideon likely would be there also, as would some of Nathaniel’s friends. They had made sure to invite enough people to make this believable. That was the purpose of this charade, after all.
