Page 15 of The Spinster's Seduction(The Lover's Arch #4)

Charles had known it was a risk to arrange a wedding on the same day that he proposed to his childhood love. So great a risk, in fact, that it had taken him quite some time to convince his mother to go along with his plan.

“And what if she says no?” she had asked.

“Then I will not marry her.”

“And the reverend?”

“Can stay to dinner.”

She had merely sighed and given him up as a lost cause. But now, by some miracle, he had overcome the first hurdle and convinced Evelyn to become his wife.

All he had to do now was to convince her to do that today.

“I have no bride clothes,” she said in some horror, still in that snow-laden garden. She attempted to pull her hand from his; he held on. “And—what will my father say?”

“I imagine he will congratulate me, and tell me I should have done this fifteen years ago.”

“Charles! Be serious.”

“I am. You do not have to marry me today.” He slid a hand along her nape, but although she shivered at the contact, she made no attempt to escape. “If you would rather we waited the three weeks to read the banns, then of course we can. And if you would prefer to be married somewhere other than Havercroft, then—”

“It is not the church I object to.”

“Then what?”

“I—” Her brows creased. “Is it not ill-mannered of us to marry so soon after your engagement with Lady Rosamund ended?”

“Ah. That.” He smoothed a thumb along the line of her jaw. “You’re right, of course, and for that reason, I thought we might delay the announcements. Just by a month. It will be news, you know, that London’s greatest bachelor has at last taken a wife.”

“You are perfectly ridiculous. A fool.”

“But a charming one.” He bent and kissed her again, and her hand tensed around his arm, pulling him closer before she broke free with a gasp.

“You are distracting me,” she told him, the severity of the statement spoilt by her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. “Why the urgency to marry me now?”

“There are two reasons.” He ghosted his nose in the delicate space behind her ear. “The first is that I have waited long enough. Largely as a result of my own foolhardiness, but even so.”

“And the second?”

For this, he leant back so he could see her eyes, deep and blue and lovely. “I want you,” he said simply. “And call me old-fashioned, but it would better suit my honour if we waited to be husband and wife.”

Confusion swam across her gaze. “Now it matters to you?”

“It always mattered to me, Pidge. Before, I thought there might be no other way to have you, and I was willing to risk everything to know how you tasted. But now,” he continued, ignoring her blush, “I get to have everything, and thus I would rather wait. But I would rather not wait very long. So I met with the Archbishop of Canterbury and expressed my imminent desire to marry you, and he granted permission.” At the slight shiver that ran through her, he tucked her hand back in his arm and led her back to the house. Even if he lost the battle over their marriage, she had at least agreed to marry him—that was enough. And even if he had to wait, he could learn patience. “The choice is yours. So long as you marry me, the details are incidental.”

“And you don’t mind if I’m not wearing a bridal gown?”

As to that, he had a solution, but no intention of pressuring her into it. “Darling,” he said tenderly, kissing her knuckles, “I don’t mind what you wear to wed me in, so long as I have the honour of removing it from you shortly thereafter.”

To his everlasting delight, she threw back her head and laughed, her breath crystallising into the frozen air.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. The moment they stepped back inside the house, the entire household converged on them, it seemed, to wish them happy. Evelyn understood then why Charles had removed them both from the building so they might speak alone. He knew how much her privacy meant to her.

He knew so many things about her.

“I prevailed,” he announced as they crossed the threshold, and his mother gave a gasp of such genuine joy, Evelyn thought for a moment she had fainted. Instead, she merely pulled Evelyn in for a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered in her ear. “For loving him the way you do.”

Evelyn pulled back, and an understanding passed between the two women. The duchess patted her cheek before Evelyn turned to the duke. He was an older version of Charles, and his eyes twinkled as he brought her hand to his lips.

“It seems congratulations are in order,” he said. “Though rather more so to my son, I think. It is an honour to welcome you into our family. I hope you will always encourage Charles to be his better self. Of all the potential brides I considered for him, I think you have the best chance of success.”

“Thank you,” Evelyn said, overwhelmed.

Her father, leaning heavily on a stick, hobbled towards her, his hand outstretched. “My darling Evelyn,” he said, kissing her cheek with papery lips. “I am so happy for you. As for you, you rogue.” He shook Charles’s hand with surprising vigour. “I had given up hope.”

“As had I, sir,” Charles said with a grin.

More people poured out—Charles’s aunt and uncle, the Marquess and Marchioness of Sunderland, and two of his siblings. The third sibling, a lady in her late twenties, had married an Italian man and now resided out of the country, and Charles explained with a rueful grin that he just couldn’t get her across two continents in time. Then there was Lady Durham, who enveloped Evelyn in a perfumed hug.

“I cannot say I am delighted for you,” she said, drawing back and tapping her cane on the floor. “He is a rake and a libertine. But I suppose he has vowed to change for you.”

“No.” Evelyn smiled a little. “I imagine he will be all that he has ever been.”

Lady Durham raised a brow. “And that doesn’t matter to you?”

“I loved him then and I will continue to love him now. Be happy for me, Hilary.”

“Oh, dearest, I couldn’t wish anything better for you, so long as you know the man he is.” Lady Durham patted her arm. “You will be a duchess and your future assured. If you love him too, so much the better.”

“You are quite as cynical as Charles.” Evelyn laughed. “Yes, I love him. And he loves me.”

“There’s a lot to be said about that,” she acknowledged. “Did you take him to the arch? Say his name there?”

“I—” Evelyn paused, then blushed. “A trifle more than just his name.”

“Then it’s hardly a surprise that I am here for your wedding day.” Lady Durham gave a small, private smile. “Its power is not diminished, I see.”

“Hilary—” Evelyn broke off as the duchess tapped her on the arm .

“You’ll want to freshen up before the ceremony,” she said, and gathered her skirts in one hand. “Come.”

Evelyn allowed herself to be led upstairs, wondering which dress she ought to wear. She had not packed anything even remotely bridal; if anything, she had dressed down, hoping to draw no attention to herself.

“Charles told his father and me of his intentions last week,” the duchess said, leading Evelyn to the master suite. She hesitated in the doorway.

“Your Grace—”

“I’ve told you more than once to call me Theo.” She spoke with an impatience that hinted at the lady she had been when she was young—spirited and vivacious. “If you can call my son by his Christian name, then I beg of you to do the same for me. I may have married a duke, but that doesn’t mean I wish to be addressed by my title every second of every day.” She gestured to a dress standing in the middle of the dressing room, made up of two parts: a dress and a blouse. Both were fawn with black lace trimmings, and it was one of the most beautiful gowns Evelyn had seen. “Forgive my presumption,” she continued. “Charles confided in me that, as you were unaware of his intentions, you would not packed accordingly. I took the liberty of speaking with your seamstress and arranging this to be made up with your measurements. You are under no obligation to wear it, of course, but—”

“No.” Rare tears stung Evelyn’s eyes. In the short time she’d had to consider her marriage, she had come to terms with the fact that she would have to make do, and to have a dress made up for her like this touched her beyond measure. “No, it’s beautiful. May I try it on?”

“Of course.” The duchess gestured for her maid.

As Evelyn stepped into the heavy crinoline skirts, a blouse attached to her upper body, she chanced a glance in the mirror. Her hair gleamed silver-like in the light, pulled back tight in its usual knot.

“I would like to dress my hair differently,” she said. “Charles has said—he likes my hair, despite its colour.”

“I imagine he likes it for its colour,” the duchess said as another maid came to unpin her bun and tease the style into something softer. “It suits you. ”

Evelyn smiled at her reflection. “Yes, I think it does.”

The duchess disappeared into an adjoining room, coming back with a velvet box in her hands. “I have something for you.” She opened the box to reveal a beautiful diamond necklace. “This belonged to the former Duchess of Norfolk, and I received it on my marriage. You are not yet the duchess, but I think it would be fitting for you to wear it for your marriage, too.” She placed it carefully around Evelyn’s neck, where it sat heavy and cold. “You know, I was friends with Nate when we were children, too. When he offered to marry me, it was a pragmatic and somewhat gallant solution to both our predicaments.” She sighed in fond remembrance. “Neither of us thought we would find love.”

“Neither did I,” Evelyn said. “In fact, I was quite certain I would never marry.”

“Life has an odd way of turning itself around in that way. Becoming what we least expected it to.”

Evelyn turned to face the older woman, an emotion she couldn’t name in her chest. “You are not disappointed? That Charles is marrying me instead of Lady Rosamund?”

“That girl.” The duchess shook her head, merry eyes warm. “He didn’t care two snaps of his fingers for her, and so no matter how pretty or accomplished she was, she would never have done for him. You, my dear, will be an excellent steadying hand on his impulses and his temper. He has always been at his best around you.” The merriment left her eyes, but the fondness did not. “It is precisely what your mother would have wanted for you. We talked about it at length, you know, but—well, Charles grew up the way he did, chafing at his father’s expectations, and became far too wild to make you a proper husband. It’s only lately that he’s settled down at all. So how could I be disappointed when it was all I ever wanted for the both of you?”

Evelyn tried to speak, but words failed her. Her mother had wanted her to marry Charles?

“She would be proud of you,” the duchess said quietly.

“I’m nothing like her. ”

“No.” She chuckled. “You are just like your father once he married, my dear, and he is the person she loved the most. So you see? There is not a world in which you could have let her down.” She hugged Evelyn lightly, mindful of the dress. “She did not live to see your wedding day, but I know she’s here with us. Now off with you before I cry. Nate will think me such a silly goose.” She smiled as she spoke, though her eyes brimmed with tears. “Welcome to the family, dearest. We are delighted to have you.”