At least the friends she knew didn’t. She tried not to think about him, but with hours and hours of nothing to do but ride alone in a carriage ripe with memories of him, it was nearly impossible.
By the time they pulled into Gretna Green, her good humor with him had vanished.
He’d checked them into one of the newer, cleaner-looking inns.
And when they finally arrived at their destination, he made certain they were appropriated with two separate chambers before essentially patting her on the head and disappearing into the darkness.
Likely, he wanted to enjoy his last night as a bachelor. She wanted to be understanding. She wanted to be uncaring. But, damn his eyes… They were to be married! Some kindness, some charm on his part, would not be remiss.
Before Emily could change, one of the maids showed up at her door with a tray filled with what promised to be quite savory delights and a bottle of wine. Wonderful. She’d gorge herself with food, get drunk on wine, and pass out alone on the eve of her wedding.
No friends. No family. She glanced around the room, feeling sorry for herself.
“Emily!” A quick knock and then the door burst open. “Why don’t you lock this when you’re alone?” Marcus frowned when the door swung open so easily. “Never mind. Good that you’re still dressed. I’ve located the blacksmith and if we are quick about it, he’ll hitch us tonight. If we don’t dally, we can get this over with now.”
That was where he’d gone? He’d been looking to make the arrangements for their wedding? But she felt a little dazed. “Tonight?” The first complete sentences he said to her all day were to inform her that they could get their ceremony “over with” if she could move quickly enough.
Over with.
Emily took a few deep breaths.
No explanations for his neglect. No apology. He just stood there, utterly confident in her easy acquiescence, a cocksure smile on that blasted handsome face of his.
She’d never understood the sort of lady who required coddling and compliments. In fact, she’d abhorred that sort of behavior. But at that moment, she wanted to demand more for herself. More kindness. More consideration. And a little bit… the tiniest amount possible… of romance.
But this wasn’t that kind of wedding. She’d been a fool to even begin thinking it might be anything more than a convenient arrangement for them both. For her to pitch a fit of pique at his cavalier treatment of her would indicate to him that she would expect more of him than she’d initially agreed to.
“Yes. Tonight, Emily. But we must hurry. The blacksmith said his dinner is waiting for him, and he’s nearly ready to close up shop.” Marcus barely met her eyes before running his gaze over her appearance and then casually winging her his arm.
And that was all.
No flower arrangement or special gift.
No sweet smile or gentle touch of reassurance.
Not even one of those searing kisses he’d given her the day before.
No acknowledgment of the momentous occasion they were about to undertake whatsoever.
Biting back her complaints, Emily donned her shawl and then slid her hand in the crook of his elbow. She’d ignore that surge of awareness sweeping through her with his touch. This was nothing more than a business deal. She needed to remember that.
They descended the stairs and exited the inn without another word.
And then her mouth took over. “Can we not be friends anymore? Because of the things we’ve done? Because we are marrying?” She hated that she sounded forlorn and lonely, but where had the Marcus she’d come to know gone? He had become something of a completely different person today.
Marcus slowed their steps and then stopped altogether. He took her hand in his and then sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you, Emily.”
Exactly what she expected. She straightened her spine and focused on one of the buttons on his jacket. A burnished gold, probably worth a chambermaid’s monthly salary if not more. This jacket was likely one of his favorites. “I don’t want you to hurt me either.”
“We’ve… We shouldn’t have… It’s just that I’ve already taken advantage of your good nature and curiosity. I don’t want you to develop unrealistic expectations.”
“Such as?” She’d have him be perfectly clear on this. Heaven forbid she demand more than he wanted to give. This was why Rhoda had suggested Lord Carlisle would be better suited for her.
She’d somehow forgotten Lord Blakely’s reputation. Stupid of her really. But she could get past this.
At least she wouldn’t be sent to Wales.
It would be the new mantra in her life. When she lived alone in the country, not knowing if her husband would ever return… she’d say to herself, “At least I wasn’t sent to Wales.”
