She and Christopher both agreed that an extravagant ceremony wasn’t needed. It would only be attended by her parents and the officiant presiding over the union. Christopher had insisted that his family did not need to attend, so there was really nothing else for them to discuss.
And just like that, her future had been forged. After promising to call on her tomorrow where they would promenade, he left to return to his home. Once he’d departed, she sat quietly in the parlor, noting the concern etched on both of her parents’ faces.
“You needn’t worry about me, mama and papa.”
“Your expression says otherwise,” her mother said softly.
Jutting out her chin, she straightened her shoulders. “While I will admit this is not the direction I expected my life to take, I am happy with the situation. Lord Campbell is an excellent choice.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more. Herself or her parents.
“Then why are you so forlorn? If your face got any longer, your chin will be scraping the floor,” her father stated.
“You know how much I hate promenading. I’ve only had to partake a few times since, well, you know since when and that turned out to be a disaster. Tomorrow, everyone will be about. Staring. Whispering behind their gloved hands. Discreetly pointing fingers.”
“And Sir Campbell will be there to ward off all of that nastiness. It must be done, sweetheart. A public show of affection is needed.”
She slumped in the chair and rolled her eyes. “It really shouldn’t be anyone’s business but ours.”
“You know as well as us that that is the way of society. Besides, once they see you and Lord Campbell are to be married, they should finally quiet down and find some other girl to be miserable to. You’ve had your fair share of their wrath for far too long now. It’s time you put them in their place.” Her mother quirked her brows, mirth brightening her eyes.
She snorted. “I don’t know if that will do anything to calm the mad hive, but since it must be done, I’ll do it. Just know that I will not be enjoying a minute of it.” She swept out of the parlor and headed to her room. The morrow couldn’t get here fast enough. She only wanted to see their promenade behind them so they could move forward.
Chapter Fifteen
Christopher could counton one hand the number of times he had promenaded with a lass. It wasn’t anything he partook in back home, and since he’d been in London, he hadn’t spent any time with reputable women to find himself in the situation. Whitney, excluded, of course.
The lass deserved to be promenaded. Hell, she deserved to be with a man worthy of her reputation and social station. He didn’t think he fit the note for that.
Currently, she had her hand curled around the crook of his elbow as they walked the path, passing people that he had never seen before. Most passed by with a nod of their head or a smile, but there were a few that as soon as they noticed Whitney, their eyes rounded and they hurried away, whispering excitedly to each other.
He had no idea what the fuss was about, and while he could ignore them, the way Whitney stiffened beside him let him ken that she couldn’t.
“Are ye alright, lass?” He asked after the third group of people had the same negative reaction.
She sighed and the look she gave him nearly broke his heart in two. “I think we have promenaded enough, have we not? Maybe we can return home now?”
He frowned and his eyes scanned the people walking to and fro, wondering what their issue was.
“We can, if that is your wish.” He turned them in the direction of where their carriage waited. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded softly. Pausing, he forced her to face him, and he gently swept a curled tendril behind her ear. Letting his fingers linger just a moment longer than he should, he then ran his fingers down her jawline. “I ken we are near strangers, yet I can tell when something is amiss. We are to be married in two days. Tell me. Ye ken I will find out eventually.”
She took in a shuddering breath. “There are some things that aren’t easy to tell.” Her eyes broke from his and focused over his shoulder. “My past is one of those things. Everyone’s reactions are a direct result from that.”
“Lass, look at me.” With his thumb and forefinger, he drew her chin to him. “I dinna care what your past looks like. Hell, my past is a cess pit. I told ye some, but no’ all. Tell me yours and we can work through it together.”
A single tear pooled in her eye and trailed down her cheek. He swiped it away with the pad of his thumb.
“Let us get to the carriage and away from the eyes of people that are upsetting ye. Then ye can tell me.” He bent so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Deal?”
For a long moment she held his gaze but finally nodded.
“Good.” He clasped her hand and led her away.
Tucked away in the carriage, Christopher sat across from Whitney, who looked like she wanted some space. He hadn’t given the coachman the signal to go yet, so they sat there quietly.
Fighting the temptation to urge her on, he held his tongue. He got the feeling that this was something that she needed to do on her own, and as much as he wanted to ken what was going on, he wouldn’t force it from her.
After what seemed like an eternity, Whitney finally spoke.
“Since you are going to find out anyway, I shall tell you. Let me preface it by saying that if you would like to find some way of ending our upcoming union after finding out, I will not stop you.”
