Grand-mère would be delighted: the marriage would return Maddy to the status her ancestry and birth, if not her upbringing, entitled her to.
Grand-mère would also approve of the way the man filled a tight coat and a pair of buckskin breeches, not to mention his pretty blue eyes. Grand-mère had ever an eye for a handsome young man and a particular soft spot for a blue-eyed man. She’d passed both on to Maddy. Her French side . . .
Nash Renfrew in a tight coat and a pair of buckskin breeches was a fine, handsome man. Naked in a bed he was downright beautiful.
Would she marry him? Try and stop her.
Would their marriage be the cold-blooded arrangement he said he wanted? Not if she could help it.
Would they be happy? She hoped so. She would certainly try.
Would he ever love her? Ah, that was the question . . .
“Now,” Nash said, pencil and notebook at the ready, “Who should I notify of our betrothal?”
Maddy thought. “Nobody,” she said finally. The few scattered relatives who remained had been uninterested in Maddy and the children when they needed help; she wanted nothing to do with them now her luck had changed. And her only friends were in the village, and she didn’t know yet how they’d respond to the gossip about her.
He frowned and glanced at the unfinished letter to Mr. Hulme on the table. “Not even that fellow?”
Especially not that fellow, Maddy thought. “No. He doesn’t know where I am, and I’d rather he didn’t know I was getting married.”
Nash frowned. “But weren’t you engaged to him?”
Maddy shook her head. “No, never. He asked me to marry him two years ago, but I refused. But he said at the time the offer would remain open indefinitely, so when I was . . . was . . .”
“Desperate, you decided to change your mind,” he said softly.
“Yes.”
He hesitated, as if about to say something, then changed his mind. He said briskly, “Very well. So, a small, quiet wedding, yes?”
She nodded.
“And would you prefer to be married in the church here, or somewhere else? The alternatives are the family chapel at Alverleigh, St. George’s, Hanover Square in London, or another place of your preference.”
“In the village church, I think, with Rev. Matheson.” At least then there would be some people she knew at the wedding, even if they were just Lizzie, Mrs. Matheson, and a few curious villagers come to gawk and whisper.
“Good, then I’ll arrange it for as soon as possible. I’ll go and see him now.” He picked up his gloves.
“I’ll need a new dress,” she blurted. “I had to receive a marriage proposal in my old blue dress but I refuse to be married in it.”
He waved a careless hand. “Of course. All that will be taken care of.
“And new slippers. These have a hole and when I kneel at the altar rail in the church, everyone will see—”
He glanced at her slippers and frowned. “Good God, I wouldn’t dream of letting you be married in those old things. You’ll need a whole new wardrobe, of course.”
Illogically, his condemnation of her attire annoyed her. She’d tried so hard to maintain a respectable outward appearance and—suddenly she realized what he’d said. “A whole new wardrobe?”
He looked up from his list. “Naturally. After the wedding, we will travel to London where a mantua maker will fit you with everything you need.”
A whole new wardrobe? She swallowed. For a girl who’d been fretting about how to pay for a new pair of children’s shoes, it was all moving so fast. But a whole new wardrobe. She could adapt to that. Clothes. Beautiful, new clothes. How long since she’d had new clothes?
He added in a reassuring voice, as if shopping for a whole new wardrobe would be difficult, “My aunt will help you with that aspect of things. She has excellent taste and she adores shopping.”
His aunt. “Would that be the aunt who’s been searching for a suitable bride for you?”
He nodded. “Yes, my aunt Gosforth, Maude, Lady Gosforth. Our father’s sister, she’s been widowed these many years, and was childless. She is excellentton, knows everyone, and is completelyà la mode. She’ll be delighted to show you the ropes.”
