Page 31 of To Bed the Bride
Jenny pulled her aside and asked her what she’d done to attract—and catch—Michael.
“I don’t know,” Eleanor said honestly. “I just danced with him.”
“I saw you two talking a great deal.”
Michael was actually the one who talked. She had just listened about his plans for Abermarle, his position in the House of Lords, or his mother.
When news of their engagement filtered through society, she’d been alternatively viewed with irritation or surprise. She understood why. She wasn’t one of the season’s beauties. She didn’t have a sparkling laugh. Nor was she exceptionally witty. If she was able to talk about the subjects that interested her she might have seemed a great deal more captivating.
As it was, she was simplythe Scot, the woman who’d convinced the Earl of Wescott to marry her. No one could understand why Michael had picked her. Nor could she.
They hadn’t fallen in love. Such things were not expected in a society marriage. It was fortunate if both parties liked and respected each other, but even that wasn’t necessary. A girl with enough attractiveness and a good family was expected to find a marriageable male from a good family and with an income substantial enough to support her and any future children. That was the way of the world.
For the great blessing of becoming a countess and carrying Michael’s name she would be amiable, bear him children, and not shame him in any way. That, too, was expected.
They attended events as a couple now. Because they were engaged they didn’t dance or even converse as much. When they did talk the conversations were mostly one-sided. As long as she listened, didn’t interrupt, or ask questions they did very well together.
He was still charming and she was still bemused.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “It seemed to be a very long two weeks.”
She cleared her throat. “I understand that you and my aunt have come to a decision as to a wedding date,” she said.
“We have. Does that not meet with your approval?”
She poured him a cup of tea, fixing it the way he liked before handing it to him.
“Could you not have waited until I returned? I would have liked to be consulted.”
“Your aunt led me to believe that she had your approval in making arrangements.”
“It’s my wedding day, Michael. Not hers.”
“Is this what traveling to Scotland does to you, Eleanor? Makes you bold and difficult?”
She looked at him. She’d thought about her words and moderated her tone of voice, yet he still considered her comments bold and difficult?
“Is the date not convenient to you, Eleanor?”
“It’s fine.”
“Just fine? I was hoping that you would think the date too far away. That you might be a little more eager to be a bride.”
“Of course I am,” she said, hoping that sounded agreeable enough.
For long minutes they didn’t speak. When Michael resumed their conversation it was to tell her of improvements he was making to his London house.
“I have to prepare for a wife, after all,” he said, smiling at her.
He truly did have the most charming smile, but the expression disappeared a moment later.
“What is that?” he asked, looking down at the floor.
“Bruce. My puppy.”
“What’s he doing in the parlor? He should be left outside.”
“He’s been very well behaved.”
