Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
She glanced past her mama to Rosalind, who gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Frightening, Mama?”
“Not frightening, darling. I didn’t mean that. Puzzling, perhaps, is a better word, until you know how they work.”
Her mama sighed, turning toward the mirror, so Elizabeth noticed how alike they looked, with similarly colored eyes and hair, and the same tilt to their chin.
“I felt so many memories today,” her mama confided. “I suppose that’s why I’m like this, all full of flutter and nerves. You know, your father and I wed in that same church. We were as much strangers as you and August are friends. And after our wedding feast, all the guests in attendance carried your father upstairs to me, crowding into this very bedroom…”
“Oh, Mama. Did they really?”
“Indeed,” her mother said. “And they’ll do it tonight, I warrant. It’s the tradition around here, so we must get you prettily arranged beneath the covers.”
“Everyone will come to this room? When I’m in bed?”
“Yes, and they’ll bring rosemary and flowers from the greenhouse, to strew all over the blankets. They’re lovely and fragrant, dear. Don’t look upset.”
“You’re the one who wanted a Welsh wedding, Elizabeth.” Hazel stifled a smile. “I wonder how you’ll get them to leave?”
Mama smiled. “On our wedding night, your father bellowed at them to go away. Even drunkards listen when he uses that certain tone of voice. You know the one.”
They laughed together, then her mama took Elizabeth’s hand to lead her to the bed. “Lord August was an attentive groom today, wasn’t he? I believe he cares for you very much.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “But I feel…nervous to be alone with him tonight.” She climbed up on the bed, nestling beneath the sheets and blankets. “What will we do?”
“You’ll talk together, drink some wine, perhaps.” Her mother indicated the trays of refreshment arranged near the fire. “Not too much, though.” She smiled and sat beside her, drawing her close. “There’s no need to worry about anything. As Hazel pointed out, he’s no stranger. He’s the same August you’ve always known.”
But he wasn’t. He was her husband now, and that was a totally different thing.
“You may leave the robe on for now,” her mama said as the silence lengthened between them. “But when everyone’s gone and you’re alone with him, you ought to take it off and let him see your pretty shift.”
Elizabeth laced her fingers together, hoping her blush didn’t look as red and hot as it felt.
“And it’s all right if you don’t have romantic feelings toward one another right away,” her mama continued. “You must trust those feelings will grow.”
“Yes. It seems trust is one of the main things in marriage.”
“It is, darling. Trust and connection.”
Elizabeth undid her trembling fingers and laid them atop the soft sheets and blankets, trying to look serene. It was a big step, leaving maidenhood behind and becoming a wife. She’d been so eager to do it, but now the way forward seemed murky and complicated.
“It was kind of August to marry me,” she said aloud. “To step in and be the hero.”
“He has been a hero,” said Rosalind, “but he’s a lucky man, too.”
“Yes, he’s lucky to have you. Never forget that.” Her mama stood and gave her one last kiss upon her forehead. “We’re so proud of you, darling. We love you so much.”
“Now, are you ready for the drunken well-wishers?” asked Rosalind with a giggle. “Because like it or not, here they come.”
*
Elizabeth’s father had warned August to be ready, warned him that Lord Lisburne would insist upon a communal bedding in the Cairwyn tradition. “They won’t stay the whole time,” the duke told him with a subtle eye roll. “Although they’d probably like to. You must be firm in sending them away.”
So, when the shouts and clapping began, half of it drunken jibberish, he let himself be drawn into the raucous huddle and borne upstairs.
The nuptial chamber was an upgrade from his parson’s quarters, with its elegant furnishings and roaring fire, but of course, the nicest thing was beautiful Elizabeth awaiting him on the herb-strewn bed. She looked part bemused, part unsettled by the guests that crowded into the chamber.
Goodness, it was so medieval, putting the bride and groom to bed. Would he even bed her tonight, consummate this marriage of convenience?
Hmm.
He couldn’t imagine it. No.
It’s not that he wasn’t attracted to his bride. Elizabeth was a rare beauty, with her striking green eyes, her soft black hair, her feminine figure. She was sylph-like, restless and floating and full of mystery.
As for him…he was baser in nature, not floating or mysterious at all. He was a bit of a clunk, in truth. He could summon charm when necessary, for short periods of time, but he was otherwise not a natural lothario. Marlow had been the practiced flirt of their friend group, Wescott the most dashing, Townsend the most dark and handsome. Now here was August, married to his friend’s sister out of pity for her plight.