Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Alexander
T he soft rustle of silk and the murmur of voices filled the small sitting room adjacent to the chapel. Alexander stood with his three sisters, all of them dressed impeccably for the occasion. Arabella was the first to break the silence, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Can you believe it? All of us together for one of our weddings. That’s a first.”
Hanna crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Should we consider that a good thing, though? This isn’t exactly a love match.”
Emma laughed, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. “That’s tradition in this family now, isn’t it? None of us married for love—and yet here we are, hopelessly in love all the same.”
Hanna gave her a skeptical look but didn’t argue. Alexander, leaning against a high-backed chair, watched his sisters. They were vibrant as always, each full of their unique energy, and the closeness among them made his chest ache.
“Alexander,” Arabella said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. “Are you really sure about this?”
He straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as though the movement could shield him from the weight of their questioning gazes. “I’m sure,” he said, his tone even but firm. “Since the proposal, I’ve brought Eammon to see her several times, and she’s been wonderful with him. Better than I’d hoped, actually.”
“There might be other women who’d be just as good with him,” Hanna suggested, her voice quieter. “Ones who weren’t forced into it.”
Alexander paused, then shook his head. “This is perfect for me. For all of us. I never wanted to marry, anyway.” He glanced at his sisters.
“Never?” Hanna asked. “I recall you talking of the idea in the past, surely.”
“Indeed, you have,” Arabella chimed in.
“As a thought, perhaps. One speaks of such things in theory, given that it is expected,” Alexander conceded. “But in reality, all things being equal, I really do not care for it. I do not believe in the notion.”
“It’s worth believing in,” Hanna added gently.
Alexander's jaw tightened. “No.” His voice was sharper this time, final.
Arabella frowned. “I just… I feel badly for her, Alexander. Lydia didn’t choose this. She was forced.”
The words hit him squarely, and he found himself rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s not ideal,” he admitted. “I will not claim that this is ideal. It is far from it, but I promise I will treat her well and I will give her all the freedom and opportunity she might need. This arrangement will be best for all of us.” He looked to Emma for support. “Didn’t you help Lady Wessex and Lord Wessex make an arrangement so they could be married in name only while… pursuing their own happiness?”
Emma arched a brow, folding her hands in front of her. “I did. But they agreed to it together.”
“She agreed.” Alexander’s voice softened, but his sisters exchanged skeptical glances.
Emma sighed. “You’re not a bad man, Alexander, but…”
“=I am not. I agree. I am doing this for one reason only. Eammon. Lydia will be a good mother to him.”
The room fell silent for a moment, heavy with the unspoken words his sisters didn’t voice. Finally, the clock chimed, and Alexander knew it was time.
As he made his way to the chapel, the echo of their conversation lingered in his mind. Lydia’s name, repeated with worry and doubt, followed him like a shadow.
He squared his shoulders and stepped forward, the faint sound of the organ guiding him, but his thoughts were a storm. Within the storm, a quiet voice whispered: You promised yourself this would work, no matter your sisters’ objections. Prove them wrong.