"Not even slightly."
"The staff will talk."
"Let them. In three weeks, you'll be the Duchess of Ashbourne, and they can talk about whatever they like as long as they do it respectfully."
"Duchess," Clara repeated, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. "That's terrifying."
"That's perfect. You'll be a perfect duchess."
"I don't know anything about being a duchess."
"You know how to manage me, which is the most important qualification."
"That's not a qualification, that's a survival skill."
“The distinction is of no consequence here.”
He pulled her to her feet, drawing her into his arms. "Three weeks, Clara. Then you're mine forever."
"I'm already yours forever."
"Yes, but in three weeks it will be rendered formal.”
He kissed her then, deep and thorough, and Clara thought that three weeks might actually be too long to wait.
But they'd manage.
Probably.
Assuming Lady Agatha didn't return with an army.
Which, given her determination, was entirely possible.
But that was tomorrow's problem. Today, they were betrothed in love, and had successfully routed the first wave of opposition.
And tonight...
Tonight, they'd definitely not be quiet.
Poor Edmund. Poor staff. Poor everyone within hearing distance.
But Clara couldn't bring herself to care.
She was going to be a duchess. A scandalous, inappropriate, completely unqualified duchess.
CHAPTER 18
"If you attempt to see her before the ceremony, I will personally ensure you walk down that aisle with a pronounced limp, and given that the entire county has already wagered on whether you'll actually go through with this matrimony or bolt like the emotionally stunted thoroughbred you are, I'd prefer not to give them additional ammunition for gossip."
Edmund stood guard outside Clara's door like a particularly well-dressed sentry, arms crossed, expression suggesting he'd been dealing with Gabriel's attempts at tradition-breaking since dawn, which was accurate since Gabriel had indeed been trying to see his bride since approximately four in the morning when anxiety had driven him from his bed.
"I just want to make sure she hasn't changed her mind," Gabriel protested, pacing the hallway like a caged panther who'd been forced into morning dress. "It's been an entire night. She's had hours to reconsider the insanity of entering matrimony with someone who talks to roses and once tried to cancel Tuesday."
"She's had three weeks to reconsider, during which you've been loud, difficult, occasionally impossible, and yet she's still putting on the wedding dress as we speak, so perhaps you could display a modicum of faith in the woman who's already demonstrated superhuman tolerance for your particular brand of dramatics."
"What if she's putting on the wedding dress to make her escape more theatrical? Clara has a tendency toward grand gestures when cornered."
"She's not escaping, Gabriel. Mary confirmed she's been ready since seven, on the hour, which is more than I can say for you given that your cravat looks like you tied it during an earthquake."
