The Mister I Married (Romancing the Rogue #3)

Chapter Ten

The next three days seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and before Emmy knew it, it was Friday, and the day of her wedding was here.

Lying in her bed in the quiet of the morning, she stared up at the familiar cracks on the ceiling, thinking about her husband-to-be and the decision she’d made to marry him today.

It had not been an easy one to make and, even now with the wedding mere hours away, she still wasn’t completely convinced it was the right one.

She thought it might be. She hoped it was. But she couldn’t be sure, and that bothered her.

Alex seemed to have no reservations, and judging by the look on his face when she’d agreed to the change in their plans, he’d looked relieved, even happy. His quiet confidence that they were doing the right thing did bring her some peace of mind. He was a practical, clear-headed man, and she valued his opinion.

If he thought this was the right and proper course, there was a very good chance it was. At the very least, she knew in her heart it was the right thing to do for him, and for his father.

As for herself? She was less certain about that, but there was no denying the logic in marrying now instead of later. The sooner she provided his father with grandchildren, the sooner she could live the life she had always craved, swanning about London or Bath or whichever city should strike her fancy, going where she pleased, when she pleased.

The thought made her smile.

She would miss London this summer, and she was saddened by the idea of leaving it so much earlier than she’d thought she would, but she was trying to be positive. This hiatus would be temporary, and London would still be here, waiting for her, when she was finally able to return.

She had grown rather used to having her own way over the years, but sometimes one must make sacrifices with future returns in mind, and this was one of those times. The uncertainty of this new life scared her a little, of course, but she had agreed to it, and she would not go back on her word.

Although she did not love Alex, she did care for him, and it was important to her that she uphold her end of the bargain to the best of her ability. She wasn’t perfect, but she tried her best to be a good person, and she would try her best today, as well.

Raising her arms over her head, she was mid-stretch when a knock sounded at the door. A moment later, in breezed her mother, bearing a breakfast tray and a barely-restrained grin.

“Good morning, daughter,” Lady Keswick said cheerfully, shutting the door behind her with a bump of her hip. “I’ve brought the bride a little breakfast.”

Emmy sat up and leaned her back against the headboard, tucking the counterpane under her arms. “Thank you, but I’m much too nervous to eat.”

“I thought you might be,” Lady Keswick said, “so I’ve brought you dry toast and tea with honey.” She set the tray gently on Emmy’s lap. “I think a light meal will help settle your stomach, dear.”

The delicious aroma of honey and mint hit Emmy’s nose, and her stomach murmured its interest. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said before sipping from the steaming cup of tea. “Thank you, Mother.”

“You are most welcome, darling,” Lady Keswick replied as she crossed the room to the windows and drew open the curtains, welcoming in the warm morning sunlight.

She sat down on the bed beside Emmy and watched her while she ate a bite of toasted bread before asking, “How did you sleep?”

Emmy swallowed the bite then flashed a wry smile. “Poorly.”

“I would think it odd if you hadn’t,” her mother said with an understanding smile. “I’m sorry your brother can’t be with us today.” She patted Emmy’s knee. “You know he wanted to be. Sophie and Olivia, too.”

Emmy nodded. “I know.”

She’d given very little thought to her wedding day over the years, but she had never once considered the possibility her two dearest friends wouldn’t be there to share it with her. It did sadden her that they would miss it, but not nearly as much as she would have thought.

“This situation has been rather odd from the beginning,” she said with a shrug of one shoulder. “It seems fitting that the wedding should be a little odd, too.”

“Well, at least there was enough time to have your dress made,” her mother said. “Though I do wish we had had more time to devote to your trousseau. Every bride should have something pretty to wear on her wedding night.”

Emmy shook her head, setting her half-finished toast on the tray. “Ours is not that sort of marriage, Mother.”

“Yours is not a love match, true, but you do like each other. And you intend to have children, do you not?”

Emmy sipped her tea. “We do. However, I am fairly certain a silk nightgown is not essential for procreation.”

“Perhaps not essential…” Lady Keswick nudged Emmy’s thigh with her forearm. “But it can certainly make it more fun.”

The twinkle in her eyes made Emmy smile even as it made her want to groan. This sort of talk from one’s own mother was surely unnatural, just as the idea of donning silk underthings for her husband was laughable.

It wasn’t that she didn’t wish to please Alex, but…a silk nightgown? She would feel ridiculous in such an impractical garment. And surely such a feeling was not conducive to satisfactory marital relations.

“Speaking of which…” Lady Keswick folded her hands in her lap and cleared her throat. “Are you…aware of all that happens between a man and a woman? The…intimacies, I mean?”

Emmy blinked. “I have no firsthand knowledge, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You know perfectly well it isn’t.”

“I am aware of the mechanics of the act, yes,” Emmy said, fighting a smile.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Lady Keswick replied. “I was not so lucky. On the eve of my wedding, your grandmother enumerated the mechanics in unsparing detail, and if I’d had any less faith in your father’s gentle nature, I would have been scared out of my wits.”

Emmy’s brows arched. “What on earth did she say to you?”

Her mother held up a hand. “It does not bear repeating. Suffice to say, she ended her lecture with some nonsense about the discomfort being a woman’s cross to bear and how I must endure with equanimity.” She met Emmy’s gaze. “I am telling you to do the exact opposite. Mr. Whitcomb strikes me as a kind man, and I believe he will do everything he can to make your wedding night a satisfying one. But, Emmy, if he doesn’t…” Her mother took her hand and laced their fingers together. “If you find your coupling unsatisfying, please tell him so. You are no one’s broodmare. You are to be his wife, his partner , and making love should be pleasurable for you both. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Emmy thought of the one and only time Alex had kissed her, of the pleasure she’d felt, and how she’d wanted more. Her mother was saying she should expect that feeling. Demand it, even.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Lady Keswick said. “You have never been afraid to speak your mind. Don’t change now.”

Emmy smiled and squeezed her hand. “I won’t, Mother. I promise.”

“I’m proud of you, you know. And I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I shall miss you, too,” she said, as her eyes misted with tears.

Her mother pulled her in for a hug and they held each other for a time, sniffling and snuffling, and murmuring nonsensical words of affection.

“I don’t know why you’re crying,” Emmy teased as she slipped free, dabbing at her eyes. “You’ve been trying to marry me off for ages.”

“These are tears of relief, dearest,” her mother quipped without skipping a beat.

Emmy laughed and Lady Keswick joined her, and soon the two were giggling like loons, their cheeks wet with tears.

“Come along, dear,” her mother said, climbing off the bed once their laughter had begun to subside. “We must get you dressed. It is almost time for your wedding.”

And, one hour later, dressed in a pale green satin gown with sweet pea blossoms laced through her hair, Emmy entered the drawing room on wobbly legs.

Alex was there already, speaking with their bespectacled clergyman who looked too young to marry himself, let alone anybody else.

Tess and Mrs. Lawrence approached, offering their compliments and congratulations as Emmy’s mother sniffled tastefully into her handkerchief.

Moments later, Emmy found herself standing next to Alex before the clergyman, torn between bolting for the door and laughing like a lunatic.

“You look terrified,” Alex said quietly, watching her closely, though his eyes held not a hint of recrimination.

“I am a little nervous,” she admitted.

He smiled as if recognizing it for the understatement it was. “It isn’t too late to change your mind, Emmy.”

She shot him a glare. “Of course it is,” she said. “But the point is moot. I don’t want to change my mind.”

She turned her attention to the awaiting clergyman and clasped her sweating, trembling hands at her front, signaling an end to the conversation. She was as ready as she would ever be.

The clergyman cleared his throat, pausing for a moment to ensure all eyes were on him, and then he began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony…”

Emmy let the words wash over her, consequential yet strangely comforting in their tradition. Alex stood still beside her, his hands clasped like hers, his solid, steady presence soothing her, reminding her that she was not alone in this.

It was strange that she should find his presence so calming. After all, she hardly knew him. Some might say she didn’t know him at all, and considering they’d only met a fortnight ago, it was difficult to argue with that.

What did she know about him?

His middle name, apparently, was Lucius, though she’d only just learned that a moment ago.

She knew he was an unpretentious man with a preference for conservative waistcoats. He liked to ride. He loved his family and his dogs.

But how did he take his tea? Did he prefer coffee with his breakfast? Did he like to read before bed?

Did he like to read at all?

The weight of these unanswered questions settled over her, uncomfortable, unwieldy, but she reminded herself there would be time to learn the answers, and none of them were likely to make her regret marrying him. She was fretting for no reason.

“Emmy?”

She jumped, her cheeks flushing hot when she realized the clergyman had gone quiet, and he and Alex, who had turned to face her, were watching her expectantly.

“Apologies,” she mumbled, turning toward Alex. As she gazed up at him, it struck her how handsome he was today with his dark hair freshly cut, his silk cravat as white as snow, stark against his deep blue jacket and dove gray waistcoat.

He wasn’t quite smiling, but there was a distinctly satisfied glimmer in his eyes as he took her left hand in his right one and bent his head.

“With this ring, I thee wed…”

Smooth, cool gold encircled her finger as he recited the words, and she stared down at the alien piece of jewelry, a large yellow topaz nestled within a circle of diamonds.

It was the ugliest ring she’d ever seen in her life.

She smiled up at Alex the way a bashful bride should, and then, at the instruction of the clergyman, she and her husband-to-be knelt on the floor and began to pray.

They were married by half-past eleven.

He was a married man.

Alex blew out a slow, silent sigh and burrowed deeper into his seat as the carriage continued its trek toward Berkshire. He’d been a husband for all of two hours, and this new reality of his was slow to sink in. He was married .

A smile touched his lips. And this time tomorrow, he and his new bride would be in Berkshire at his beloved Bristlewood. He couldn’t wait to be home again. He hoped Emmy would come to love it as much as he did.

The carriage ride had been a quiet one so far, with his sister dozing on the seat across from him, her soft snores blending with the clatter of the carriage wheels.

Emmy sat beside her in quiet repose, looking lovely in her green dress as she peered out the window at the passing scenery. She’d been unusually subdued since they’d left London, but he supposed that was to be expected. It had been a long day, an odd day, and she’d just said farewell to her mother, and to her former life, a life she loved.

It stood to reason she would feel a little unsure and out of sorts today.

To some extent, he felt the same. Life would be different now, and there was no going back. That would make anyone feel out of sorts.

Mostly, though, he just felt good. This felt good. It felt right, and he wanted his new bride to feel that way, too.

“Emmy?” He said her name softly, so as not to wake his sister.

She turned from the window and looked at him, her expression undecipherable.

“Are you well?” he asked her, running his gaze over her face. “You’re awfully quiet.”

A small smile curved her lips. “Only tired. It was a rather hectic day.”

“Why don’t you try to sleep?” he suggested. “We have another two hours before we stop to change horses.”

She shook her head. “I’ve never been able to sleep in carriages.”

“No, neither have I,” he replied, a touch regretfully. “Much too bumpy. Did you bring anything to read?”

She shook her head again, her smile turning sheepish. “I don’t read much. Except gossip rags, of course.”

Alex smiled. He’d noticed that she always seemed to know everything about everyone. Now he knew why.

“And you?” Emmy asked, shifting to face him. “Are you a great reader?”

“I have very little time for reading, I’m afraid. My father’s properties keep me quite busy.”

He’d been handling his family’s estate business since he was sixteen years old, and these obligations left little time for hobbies. To be honest, though, even if he had the time, he probably wouldn’t spend it reading. He was more interested in doing things than reading about other people doing things.

“Do you prefer coffee or tea with breakfast?”

Alex raised a brow, the innocuous question catching him by surprise, but there was genuine interest in Emmy’s gaze, and he liked that. “Coffee.”

“So do I,” she said approvingly. “Summer or winter?”

“Summer. Winter is too cold for morning walks.”

“Sunrise or sunset?”

He pondered that one for a moment. “Sunrise, I think. I like mornings.”

“And do you like sweets, as well?” she asked, arching her brows in such a way that suggested she would judge him harshly if he gave the wrong answer.

Alex shook his head. “No. I love sweets.”

She grinned. “So do I.”

He filed that fact away, making a mental note to speak with Mrs. Hatton about preparing a special dessert to commemorate Emmy’s first night at Bristlewood. Mrs. Hatton’s desserts were legendary, and he wanted to celebrate his new bride’s arrival like the special occasion it was.

A comfortable silence fell over the carriage, and Emmy turned to face the window again. Alex studied her discreetly, his gaze sweeping over her high forehead and puckish nose. Bold lips. Soft, round cheek. Her dark curls were up and adorned with flowers, wispy tendrils caressing her nape.

She looked utterly gorgeous.

He should have told her so earlier, when he’d first seen her in her pretty green dress, but it hadn’t occurred to him. As usual, words had failed him.

“The ring is a family heirloom,” he said, watching as she twirled the stone ‘round and ‘round her finger. “It’s been passed down from Whitcomb bride to Whitcomb bride since 1723.”

Emmy looked down at the ring and studied it for a long moment before meeting his gaze. “Did your mother wear it?”

He nodded. She’d left it behind when she ran off with his father’s groom, but this was hardly appropriate talk for the day of their wedding.

“Won’t it be unpleasant for your father to see me wearing it?” she asked, concern pinching her brow.

He’d wondered the same thing himself, but when he’d asked his father, he’d insisted Alex take the ring, and bring it with him to London. “Just in case,” he’d said with a wink as he’d pressed the ring into Alex’s palm.

“He wants you to wear it,” Alex said. “Tradition is very important to him.”

Emmy nodded, but her brow was still furrowed as she turned to face the window again.

Something seemed to be troubling her, but perhaps it was nothing more than the effects of the day. She’d said she was tired. That was likely all it was.

Alex leaned back in his seat and crossed one leg over the other, his gaze on the ring. She was fiddling with it again, clearly unused to its weight, and he drank in the sight of her gloveless hands, those long, capable fingers, that silky bare skin.

Unbidden, images flooded his mind, of Emmy lying on bedsheets the same shade as her wedding gown, wearing nothing but her silk stockings and his ring.

God’s wounds. He swallowed hard, heat creeping up his neck.

To say he was eager to consummate his marriage was an understatement, but it would have to wait. He had no intention of bedding his new bride in a country inn after a long day of travel.

He would wait until he had her at home, in the comfort of a familiar bed, where he could relax and hopefully not make a total disaster of the whole thing.

Considering it would be her first time—and his—he was more than a little apprehensive.