“What does she look like?”
“You likely met her a few years ago. She has brown hair, blue-gray eyes, and a kind smile.” Lush lips came to mind. What else could he tell his mother about his future bride? That she had a delicious bottom and generous breasts?
He stared across the table to where his mother’s place setting was in disarray. Bethany was orderly, almost ridiculously so, and his mother dwelled in her own personal chaos.
“What if she doesn’t like me?”
“She will like you, Mother. In fact, she’ll come to love you.” Hehoped.
The thought of moving Bethany Fitzwilliam into his home, of her living in the same house as his mother and sleeping in the suite that adjoined his, made this marriage business begin to feel all too real.
Doubt swooped in and for the umpteenth time he reminded himself that he had no choice. Would she expect him to bed her tonight? Oddly enough, the thought excited him. He would have to curtail his baser instincts, however. She was a lady. If she was willing, he’d be quick and tidy about it.
A glance at his timepiece revealed it was already past one. “I’ve details to attend to but I’ll return to change before going over to the church.” Chase met his mother’s eyes. “She will like you mother, and you will like her. The two of us will come here from the ceremony, and we’ll all take supper together.
“It will be a celebration. My son gets married only once so I’ll tell Mrs. Maples to order Cook’s best. We’ll have a meal fit for a king.”
He released a slow exhale at the same time Mrs. Finch peeked inside and then met Chase’s gaze sympathetically. “Mr. Ingles has instructed Collins and Bradford to move Lady Chaswick’s belongings out of the mistress’s chamber. Into the Gold Room, I presume?”
“Very good of them. Thank you, Finch. Did you hear that, Mother? All of your trinkets and jewels are going to have a new home.“ He smiled gratefully at his mother’s nurse. “I’ll return in a few hours.” Mr. Smythe would no doubt insist Chase arrive at St. George’s in some sort of wedding finery. Valets could be difficult that way.
Wedding. The thought sent an unexpected surge of ice through his veins.
And after that, he would bring home his wife.
My wife!
He inhaled, dismissing the queasy feeling in his gut. There wasn’t time for cold feet or whatever it was this might be.
Chase scraped his chair away from the table and went to rise, but before he could move to leave, his mother caught his hand. “You will make a wonderful husband, just like your father was. Tell me her name again?”
“Bethany.” His voice caught.
There was always the possibility for his bride to change her mind, deciding she’d prefer a lifetime banished to the country rather than marriage to him. Which, he admitted to himself, might prove to be the better decision.
For both of them.
But she would not. He knew it deep down as he stepped outside. The Westerleys had always been deeply enmeshed in society. Being thrust out of thetonwas too high a price to pay. And since she wouldn’t be the only one to pay it, her mother would never allow her to change her mind and Bethany wouldn’t defy her mother’s wishes.
Anxious to get the damn thing over with, he strode out of the house. Time was passing quickly and already he barely had enough time to stop off at the Farm Street house. He only hoped that Collette, Diana, and Sara took the news as well as his mother had.
Where females were concerned, one could never be certain.
After that, he supposed he ought to purchase flowers or some sort of gift to give Bethany at the church. He wasn’t a complete blockhead when it came to women.
But he best make haste. Time was running out.
Chapter 9
Breathe
Bethany glanced toward the door at the back of the church, but Chase hadn’t arrived in the thirty seconds since she’d checked before. As she turned back to face the altar, the rector sent her a reassuring smile.
This was all wrong
Weddings never took place in the late afternoon. They were supposed to take place in the morning. Would it bring them bad luck?
A bride. B-r-i-d-e. Without a groom. Five letters in both.
