The room was a mess. Gowns in various shades of cream and ivory were draped over every available surface.
“You must wear this one,” Tiffany insisted, holding up an empire-waist gown with delicate pearl beading. “The cut is perfect for your figure.”
Valora shook her head emphatically. “No, no—the one with the lace overlay is far more romantic. It’s your wedding day, Farah. You should look like you stepped out of a fairy tale.”
“I still think the silk with the ribbon trim would be lovely,” Claire added, fingering the material thoughtfully. “Simple but elegant.”
Farah sat amid the whirlwind of fabric and opinions, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Just yesterday, she’d been hiding at Courtney’s house, determined to avoid marriage altogether. Now here she was, preparing to wed Rockwell tomorrow morning. Her heart fluttered at the idea of becoming Lady Farah Ware.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Courtney observed, settling beside her on the settee. “Having second thoughts?”
“No,” Farah replied quickly—perhaps too quickly, given the knowing look Courtney gave her. “It’s just…everything is happening so fast.”
“That tends to happen with special licenses,” Ivy remarked dryly. “Though I must say, my brother seems remarkably eager to get you to the altar.”
The ladies exchanged meaningful glances and knowing smiles that made Farah’s cheeks heat.
“Can you blame him?” Valora asked with a wicked grin. “After that scandalous journey to Ireland together…”
“Nothing scandalous happened!” Farah protested, though her blush deepened at the lie.
“Of course not,” Tiffany agreed, her eyes twinkling. “I’m sure you were the very model of propriety while alone with my devastatingly handsome brother-in-law.”
The other ladies dissolved into giggles, while Farah buried her face in her hands. “You’re all terrible,” she mumbled.
“We’re just happy for you,” Ashley said, giving Farah’s shoulder a squeeze. “Even though he’s my brother, Rockwell is a good man. You’ll be very happy together.”
Lauren nodded in agreement. “And you’ve already proven you can handle his adventurous spirit. Not many ladies would take so well to being accidentally shipped off to Ireland.”
“Speaking of adventures,” Ashley said, rising to her feet, “we should check your wardrobe for any other potential wedding gowns. Lauren, will you help me?”
As the two women headed upstairs, Farah made to follow them, but Valora caught her arm, her eyes bright with wedding fever. All the ladies and their brothers and parents would wish to attend. Several minutes passed as they debated who to seat with whom.
Finally, extracting herself from Valora’s enthusiastic clutches, Farah made her way up the stairs toward her bedchamber. The thick carpet muffled her footsteps as she approached, and she heard voices drifting through the partially open door.
“…had no choice really,” Ashley’s voice carried clearly through the gap. “Wolf was quite adamant about it.”
“Well, of course he was,” Lauren replied. “The family couldn’t risk another scandal, not after…”
“After my disgrace, you mean.” Ashley’s voice held the weight of old pain. “That’s exactly why Wolf insisted Rockwell had to convince her to marry him. He told him in no uncertain terms that the Wolfarth family name couldn’t withstand another ruined reputation.”
Farah’s world tilted sideways, her hand half-raised to push open the door. Ice seemed to spread through her veins as Ashley’s words echoed in her head like a death knell.
“At least Rockwell seems to have done a good job of it,” Lauren continued, oblivious to the fact that her heart was breaking mere feet away. “She seems happy at the idea of marrying him. And as you say, he is a good man. They will be happy, won’t they? And I’m not just saying that because I was hoping she’d pick Lucien.” A pause, then more softly, “He is running out of time to find a rich wife.”
“Well, my brother has always had a silver tongue when he wanted something,” Ashley remarked, each word another dagger in Farah’s heart. “But I saw him send a missive to Lady Mary.”
Lauren sighed. “His mistress?”
“Well, the lady he was seeing prior to going to Ireland the first time. Though I do think he cares for Farah in his way.”
“But not enough to have offered for her if Wolf hadn’t forced his hand?”
“Probably not. You know how he is about his freedom. But he’ll do his duty to protect the family name.”
Farah stumbled backward, the world swimming before her eyes as tears burned hot trails down her cheeks. Everything—all of Rockwell’s beautiful words, his begging for her to give him a chance to learn to love her, his promises for their future—had been a lie. A masterful performance by a man who knew exactly how to manipulate her heart. Oh, she was so stupid. He’d danced around her questions about love like a practiced courtier, never quite lying but never telling the whole truth, either. She hadn’t even thought to ask him about a mistress. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth to stifle a sob. How could she have been so foolish? Of course, he didn’t truly love her—how could she have believed otherwise? She was nothing more than a duty to be discharged, a problem to be solved.
