Page 31 of The Duke's Daring Bride

“I am considering reading the Buddhist texts next,” announced Amanda. “So I might be well-rounded.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” blurted Olivia, “If we go to my—my lodgings, I’ll need to grab what’s left of my cheese.”

“Is that a metaphor?” Amelia asked. “I have some good books if you need pointers on how to grab your cheese, as the kids say these days.”

The Duke of Effinghell can afford all the fancy cheeses you’ve missed these last few years…

“No, no, I just meant—I suppose it’s not really necessary.” Olivia shook her head. “I suppose I need to be able to fit into my wedding—” She gasped and pulled them all to a stop there in the middle of the foyer. “A wedding gown?”

With wide eyes, she turned to the young ladies who would soon be her sisters, young ladies she found refreshing, delightful, and not a little strange. “I need a…a wedding gown?”

“Of course you do,” agreed Amelia. “When is the wedding?”

“I asked her that already,” reminded Amanda. “She ignored me.”

“I—I don’t know! Your brother said something about…” Olivia swallowed, then finished in a whisper, “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow!” the sister repeated in a squeal.

In unison, both of them lifted Olivia and dragged her about until she was facing right back up the stairs.

“Hurry, hurry!” announced Amelia, dragging her forward. “We only have a day to choose a gown for you! I have that lovely gray satin with the train, we could let it out in the…”

They glanced down, but since they were already halfway up the stairs by then, Olivia thought the woman was looking at her feet.

“I am quite a bit taller than you,” she admitted.

“No, dear.” Amanda patted her hand. “Well, yes, but that was not what I was referring to. Your bosoms are considerably larger than either of ours. Both of ours, put together. No wonder Alistair likes you.”

Olivia’s cheeks seemed to catch fire. “I—He…”

“Do not deny it.” Amanda patted her again, then spun them back around to face down the staircase once more. “Men are pigs, et cetera. Let us go shopping!”

“My wardrobe…”

Amelia tutted. “We were just offering to go with you because we were bored. If there is really anything there that you must have in the next few days, we will have Rocky pop over and pick it up for you. We have work to do here!”

Hamish, flapping behind them, squawked, “Show us yer tits, love!”

Chapter 5

Tuesdays were Alistair’s day to focus on the reports and correspondence from his holdings in Scotland. He broke his fast alone, as was his habit, and now sat ensconced in his study.

Alone, which was how he was most comfortable.

A Tuesday like any other Tuesday…

Except today, he was getting married.

His finger hovered over the data regarding sheep projections—why in the hell anyone would want to project a sheep was beyond him—as his gaze rose yet again to the large clock between the windows.

Less than fifteen minutes had passed since the last time he’d checked.

Alistair knew his sisters and mother were upstairs, preparing Miss Wils—Olivia.

For their wedding.

Abandoning the sheep for a moment—no great hardship—Alistair’s hand crept toward the marriage license. This piece of paper allowed him to be legally married to any woman of his choosing, without having to worry about the banns or Society’s opinion.

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