“Give it a rest, Carrington,” Drake sighed while pouring a scotch. “You sound histrionic. No, we’re not parting ways, and neither is Beaumont. He is simply looking out for his best interests, as we all do.”
Sterling muttered, “Capital. What good news on the eve of my wedding.”
Dorian’s head snapped forward. “What?Youare getting married?” Since when are you releasing your vice grip on eternal bachelorhood?”
“Consider it a loosening and not a full release,” Sterling said. “I am getting older, and I do not need a wife. It is more for rite of passage than me turning into any sanctimonious, monogamous codswallop.”
“Are you sure?” Nathan asked. “A wave of gents, all of them solid rakehells, have been getting married lately. It’s like a disease and it’s spreading.”
“Not for me,” Dorian shuddered.
“I wouldn’t worry for your health, old chap,” Drake grinned at Dorian. “You are impervious to viruses.”
“Do we get to know the name of this lucky lady?” Nathan asked.
“She’s a Miss, not yet a lady,” Sterling grunted before throwing back his drink. “A real proper one, all buttoned up and the like. I cannot wait for my whores to turn her into a doxy. There is no fun in bedding a gently-bred virgin, I tell you. Her name is Evelina Frampton, by the by, and we’re to wed at St. James’ tomorrow morning at ten.”
Dorian called for his dinner, specifying quail in truffle sauce and roasted garden vegetables with a glass of wine. “And how old is this Miss?” he asked.
“Twenty,” Sterling grunted. “She turns one-and-twenty the day after. Her folks are selling her off for her cousin’s introduction to the ton.”
Cocking a brow, Nathan asked, “And what do you stand to gain from this arrangement? You are not one to give without expecting something in return.”
Sterling cocked a brow. “Why not? I can be philanthropic on occasions.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Dorian snorted as his plate was set before him. “Now, what shall we do about the shares I am selling off. Any takers?”
Seated in the waiting room of St. James’ Cathedral, Ellie gripped the edge of her chair, swallowing over the bile constantly surging up her throat.
She felt trapped, and wondered why she had not vociferously told her aunt and uncle she would not be marrying this Sterling fop. The man clearly wanted nothing from her than to prop her into a house like he would do with a clock on the shelf.
“Ellie?” Harriet, her cousin, stuck her head around the door. “May we come in? It is Victoria and me.”
“Of course,” she replied, finally sucking in a stable breath. “You are always welcome.”
At ten-and-eight, Harriet was a petite female. Her thick, glossy plaits of chestnut hair were piled up on her head and stuck through with pins. Her dress, a soft dove grey gown with long sleeves, proper for a wedding, flared out from under her bosom. Victoria was stunning as always, in a peach peignoir with a matching shawl.
Two steps in, Harriet caught onto Ellie’s harried state. “Are you well, Ellie? You look grey and ill.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I am not. I don’t want this marriage, cousin. I don’t want this man. I already know he is not going tobe faithful to me, nor will he ever give me the love that I want from a marriage and a real husband. I fear— I fear everything when it comes to him.”
The words had punched themselves out from her chest, and as soon as the deluge was out, the turmoil in her heart eased a little.
“Dear god,” Victoria muttered.
Distressed, Harriet reached out and held Ellie’s clammy hand. Face falling in sorrow, she said, “Have you told mother or father? Surely they will not force you to marry someone you are actively fearful about.”
“They will,” Ellie shook her head. “They will because this is the only way they could have you marry into the aristocracy. You know that. Especially after last year and the disappointment of your debut season. No one gave us a second look when they realized you were gentry, and this is the only way for you to have the happy life you deserve.”
Her cousin’s face twisted with dismay and pure horror. “But not at the expense of your life! No, Ellie, no. I’ll go and talk to mother and father and get them to put this off. I will not let you go on with this.”
“Harriet, dear—”
“Do not try and stop me.” Harriet surged from her seat and rushed out the door.
Taking her place, Victoria added, “This is not right, Ellie. You cannot do this. Is it not enough that your parents were taken from you before you were ready? And now to be married off to a man who will not value you, through no fault of your own?”
“But—” Ellie swallowed, “I am here. And thatismy fault, because I’d worked myself up to run away last night, yet was too cowardly to do so…” she sighed. “Though now that I am here, I want to do it more than ever.”
