“I trust that meets with your approval,” he said. “St. Paul’s is something of a tradition in my family.”
“Of course. I did expect it to be a large affair.” She looked dismayed and hardly the excited bride. He had to admit it might be somewhat intimidating. “You will make a lovely bride, Nellie.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
“And I shall be there to lean on.”
Her eyes searched his with a faint smile. “And I shall certainly take advantage of that, I assure you.”
He chuckled.
They stood near the French windows onto the terrace. Torrential rain gushed down the windowpanes. “I had planned a stroll on the terrace in the moonlight.” He hoped she would understand his romantic intentions. “But nature has other ideas.”
There was no responding glimmer in her eyes. “Papa is certain it will clear before morning. He is seldom wrong about the weather.”
“Lady Forrester tells me she and Mrs. Knight, and a few of the hardier guests who don’t plan to spend the afternoon languishing at cards, have expressed a desire to see more of the estate.” Perhaps they could slip away for a few minutes alone.
“Nathaniel will be only too pleased to escort them,” Nellie said.
No chance for a tête-à-tête, then. He wondered what had upset her, for something clearly had.
“We might play croquet for an hour or so if the lawn isn’t too wet. It’s one of my favorite games,” she said a little breathlessly.
The musicians struck up the waltz, and he took hold of her hand. He’d been looking forward to this since their kiss. He liked how she felt in his arms, her head just below his chin. Her slim hand settled in his, and with his gloved hand spread against the small of her narrow back, he breathed in her delicate perfume and swept her into the dance.
They moved well together, a good sign, he thought. “Jason always triumphed when we played croquet. Am I to fear your expertise?” he asked. “Roundly beaten by my bride-to-be? A man has his pride, particularly after your sister destroyed my confidence by beating me at archery.”
She laughed. “You have little to fear from me. Will Lord Jason and Lady Beverly be in London?”
“They reside in Dorset. A reclusive pair, but they are not long married,” he said. “My brother writes that they plan to come to London to meet you. In any event, they will be at our wedding.”
She nodded and continued the dance in silence. Her gown was the perfect foil for her lovely figure. He was surprised at how pleased he was to be marrying her. But Nellie’s feelings about the marriage, he wasn’t so sure of. She wasn’t shy or missish but rather cool. He smiled down at her, wanting them to begin on a good footing. A nervous bride-to-be? “We only have tomorrow, shall we go for a walk?”
“We might walk to the gazebo by the lake if it’s fine. I’ll ask Marian and Gerald to accompany us.”
A chaperone? Did she fear he might kiss her again? He hoped she would welcome it if he should choose to do so. “Your father tells me he is opening your townhome. You remove to London within a sennight.”
“Yes. My parents are eager to return after such a lengthy absence.”
“I’ll take you driving in the park. We might ride.”
“Papa only keeps the carriage horses in the city.”
He was aware that Dountry’s finances were in difficulty. It was only temporary, Dountry had assured him. But Charles suspected he might be financing him in the future. “No matter. I keep a good stable and shall provide a mount for you.”
“I would love to,” she said, appearing warmer than she had a little while ago. “I miss riding when in the city.”
He glanced at the rain and cursed beneath his breath. If they could be alone, he might discover what worried her. A thought came unbidden. Might there have been another man in her past? Someone Dountry disapproved of? Was he still in her thoughts? It wasn’t that Charles was jealous. A man had to be deeply in love to suffer that excruciating emotion. But he dashed well didn’t want some fellow prowling around his wife. Surprised at the direction his thoughts took, he sighed inwardly as the music slowed.
Chapter Seven
Nellie rested herarms on the windowsill of her bedchamber and gazed down at Grosvenor Square. The family had been in London for a week, and for most of it, the weather had been dreary. A stultifying week of accompanying her mother on morning calls, where the wedding was discussed over the tea tables.
The drizzle continued, the sky a washed-out gray, the trees in the park drooping with the weight of a recent deluge. Rain in the city was not like rain in the north. It didn’t smell fresh and sweet as it replenished streams and revived the gardens and woodlands. It merely formed brown torrents in the gutters and splattered the carriages with sooty water.
Earlier, she’d taken Peter to the park, but hadn’t remained there long. Ordinarily, she liked to walk in the rain, but not here where people hunched beneath their hats and umbrellas intent on reaching their destinations. Was that a glimmer of watery sun she spied between the clouds? Probably not.
Nellie turned from the window. The long afternoon stretched ahead. Marian and Gerald had gone to their Kent estate because his mother suffered from another of her ailments. Her sister declared them to be imaginary and attention-seeking, for her mama-in-law always rallied at the sight of her son.
