Stephen sat taller, a big smile on his face.
“Thank God, because I would have wrestled any other man in church for that position,” he said, making them all laugh.
“What about Frederica?” Dorothy asked. “Does she have any bridesmaids?”
“That I do not know.” Allan shifted uncomfortably again. “From what I understand in her father’s last letter, they are not letting her out of the house at present to see anyone. They clearly think she may run again.”
I wonder if she had the chance, would she run from me as she ran from the last man who pursued her?
Allan reasoned that she would not. After all, he had taken the pains to ask her alone if she wanted to marry him, and she had said yes. Even if it wasn’t a gushing and excited yes, she had still assented.
“When is the wedding then?” Dorothy asked with concern, biting her lip.
“Saturday.”
“That’s three days away!”
CHAPTEREIGHT
“There, don’t you look beautiful, dear?”
Frederica turned to face the mirror, at least content that her mother had not chosen the dress with as many ruffles as there were stitches. This one was a little more elegant. Column style in design and pure ebony white with lace sleeves and a lace collar, it was a flattering style.
Half of Frederica’s face was hidden by the veil. Frederica swept it off her head, for she was hardly able to breathe for the netting that kept falling in her face.
“What are you doing? You are ruining it.” Margaret tried to pick up the veil again.
“I’m sorry, Mother, but I do not wish to wear it. I’ll go as I am.” She turned to the mirror again though her eyes didn’t dwell on the gown. She looked instead at the shadows under her eyes.
She had barely slept this last week. She had stayed awake at night wondering why Lord Padleigh was prepared to go through this, and constantly fearing what Lord Wetherington’s reaction would be when he heard about it.
Her one comfort was that her mother and father hadn’t mentioned him since the day Lord Padleigh had proposed, and neither had he appeared at the house. She just prayed that he wouldn’t turn up at the house unannounced.
“Well, if you insist.” Margaret sighed and returned the veil to a table. “Now, are you ready? It’s time to go.”
“Will Dorothy and Charlotte be meeting us there?” Frederica asked, turning to face her mother.
“They will be in the congregation.”
“The congregation?” Frederica repeated. “But I sent them letters asking them to be my bridesmaids.”
“And I intercepted those letters.” Margaret smiled, as if this wasn’t an interference. “I think it best if you are up there alone today.”
“Why would that be best?”
Margaret pretended not to hear her and fussed with flowers nearby. It was plain that Margaret didn’t approve of Dorothy or Charlotte as friends, even though they were both duchesses and usually the sort of woman Margaret would have climbed over another to befriend.
“Now, shall we go?”
Frederica stood stock still, fury pumping through her veins. Not only was she marrying a man today that she was certain had no real wish to marry her, but she would also have to stand at that altar alone without her friends there as support.
A knock sounded at the door, and Margaret went to open it.
“A letter for Lady Frederica, My Lady.”
Margaret took it and sent the butler away again. As she passed it into Frederica’s hands, she considered not reading the letter and saving it for later. That was until she caught the scent.
No, it’s not possible.
