When Lila was finally ready,she’d already taken at least ten minutes longer than he’d allotted, perhaps closer to twenty, she burst out the front door. Her husband glanced down at her from atop a giant mare and then tucked a pocket watch back into his jacket. He looked fit to be tied.
“I’m sorry!” she gushed as she made her way carefully down to the carriage. Warmth suffused her neck and cheeks, and she knew her eyes must be red. “I had to say goodbye to my sister.” She’d also had Fran pin her hair up again and wore one of her favorite straw bonnets and an indigo-colored wool coat. She’d donned a traveling gown made of a pale blue muslin while Fran packed her a small valise. With one last glance around her chamber, she’d scooped up a book she had been reading and tucked it under her arm.
But he was on a horse. “You are riding outside?”
Her husband gestured toward the coach, horses and driver waiting patiently. “You’ll have your privacy.”
So she would not be given an opportunity to know him better before nightfall.
“But I—” She bit her lip. “I’d hoped we could familiarize ourselves…” Her eyes dropped.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw ticked, as though he was grinding his teeth. “We’ll stop before dark.”
Sitting atop the horse, he had her imagining him as some sort of Nordic God, but then just as quickly dismissed such a foolish notion.
“But I—”
“I expect you’ll come to know me well enough.” And then he jerked his chin, indicating for her to climb into the carriage while he turned to ride ahead.
Not the beginning she had in mind. Although after her appearance earlier that day, what did she expect? He likely already regretted taking on such an unfashionable wife.
One more glance behind him and then he urged his horse into a run.
Married less than three hours and already he was running away from her.
Married…
As the driver steered them off of her father’s property, Lila might as well have been driving into another world. She was a wife now. She opened her book but for all the jostling could hardly focus on the pages.
The carriage hit one bump, and then another, and she nearly lurched off the bench onto the floor.
This ride already promised to be an unpleasant one.
3
Will You?
His new wife had a ladies’maid, of course. What other luxuries would she expect upon reaching Glenn Abby? Vincent imagined how she might view his home when they finally arrived. A cold, forbidding castle, built in the late fifteenth century, it didn’t exactly present the most welcoming of sights. Keenan, nor Vincent’s father, nor his grandfather before him had done much of anything in the way of repairs.
The foundation listed, birds dwelt in some of the corridors, and bitter drafts managed to find their way into every room throughout the wintertime, regardless of how much coal one shoveled into the hearths.
Would she expect well-dressed servants lined up to greet her? Formal dining every evening? A ball, hosted in her honor?
Vincent laughed to himself at that thought.
Lila Catherine was her name. And now she was a Saint–Pierre. Would the title of duchess feel as foreign to her as duke felt to him?
Likely, she’d been born and raised for such an undertaking.
He shook his head.
Damn Keenan. The woman was going to be miserable. His gut clenched at the thought that his brother ought to have been the one to marry her.
But Keenan had forfeited the dubious privilege.
“Hiya!” He urged his mount forward. Tonight, he’d make her his wife in truth.
Hopefully, he could afford a decent chamber at the inn he had in mind.
