“A warning for your groom,” Coleus teased. “Beware of your future bride.” She sent herself into a fit of giggles.
“It’s a beautiful flower,” her mother insisted. “And I’ve imagined decorating your wedding with them since the day you were born.”
“You know,” the older duchess spoke up again. “I believe there are several growing on the grounds at Prescott House. What a charming idea.”
It seemed Rhoda was to have no part in the planning of her wedding ceremony.
“Now, for your dress, something pink, I think, to match the flowers.”
“Not pink!” Rhoda hated pink. “Green. I want an emerald green.” She’d assert herself on something, anyhow.
“I do wish I could come to London with you.” Sophia and Prescott were going to wait at Eden’s Court for Emily and Blakely’s return, as were Cecily and Mr. Nottingham.
“I wish you could, too.”
And Emily. Rhoda missed Emily more than she would have thought.
Was Emily already married? They’d left three days ago. They likely were already on the road back.
“We’ll come to London in a few weeks’ time,” Cecily assured her. “You won’t be alone for long.”
Rhoda wanted to ask Cecily if she thought it would be safe yet, if she thought the wager would be canceled with news of her betrothal, but she didn’t wish to have that conversation in front of the duchess, her mother, and her sisters.
“Don’t take any longer than necessary.” She winced.
Already she wondered if Lord Carlisle regretted his proposal. He’d have met with her father by now.
Sitting in the lovely drawing room discussing the exciting details of her own wedding, Rhoda wanted nothing more than to escape. Her wedding day was growing into some horrific spectacle. Normally, she would have welcomed it, but not now… not after having all of thetonjudging her most personal of affairs.
She could do nothing to stop them. They would gleefully examine her every move. Believe what they wanted and then repeat it to another.
Her chest tightened as if an elephant had sat down on top of her.
She’d control the only thing she could.
“Just not pink,” she murmured. “I refuse to wear pink.”
They’d made the journey to London the day before and it had barely taken more than four hours. Not knowing what she would face had tied her nerves into knots. She’d almost wished the journey had been a longer one.
Her mother had gone to visit a close friend and taken Coleus and Hollyhock with her.
It had been five days now since she’d bid Lord Carlisle farewell. He’d promised to call upon her when he arrived back in London.
Rhoda glanced over at the clock. Nearly noon. She and her mother had an appointment that afternoon with Madam Chantal. Normally thrilled at the opportunity to be fitted for a new dress, Rhoda wished she could remain hidden inside today instead.
She was afraid.
And she hated it. She absolutely hated being afraid.
All year, ever since pushing Dudley off that blasted cliff last summer, she’d been afraid of the truth. She’d finally faced that and now she was afraid to face a handful of supercilious debutantes, their mothers, and a bunch of dandies.
The men of thetonwere bored, vile, and cruel. They were ridiculous creatures.
They considered their pranks harmless, but a man might just as well send a woman to a nunnery as cast aspersions upon her reputation.
Rhoda wasn’t ready for that.
The trouble was, she wasn’t certain as to what exactly she would face when going out. Would she be given the cut direct? Would gentlemen persist in harassing her?
