Page 21 of Not his Marchioness
“Semantics. You attempted to.”
“Can I be certain that you will not place any more false stories in the scandal sheets?” she fired back.
“It was not a false story, was it? Only a premature one,” he reasoned.
She shook her head, then rose. “Very well. I will not attempt to run away again.”
“And I will not make any more announcements about our union without consulting you first.”
He rose as well, and they stood across from each other. For a moment, the only sound that filled the space was the crackle of the fire.
Then, he extended his hand. “Shall we shake on it?”
“Shake on it?” She furrowed her brow.
“A friend of mine just returned from the New World and told me that is how things are settled there. In fact, they spit in their hands before they do, but I think we are not well acquainted yet.”
Despite herself, Charlotte smiled and extended her hand. Ravenscar wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed hard.She gasped slightly, not just because of the strength of his grip, but also because of the feel of his hand around hers.
She had forgotten to put on her gloves before leaving Lowey House, and now their skin touched. His hand was smooth and soft, yet strong.
She raised her eyes, and they looked at one another. In his eyes, she saw her reflection. Not as she imagined herself, but as he saw her.
She let go and swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. “Very well,” she muttered. “We shall go, then.”
“Very well. I will arrange for the banns to be read. Which is your parish church?”
“St. George’s of Hanover Square,” she replied.
“Mine as well. We shall have the banns read starting this Sunday and then marry.”
She nodded, and then he walked her to the door.
Aunt Eugenia joined them from the music room, pleased with what she had overheard.
“Lady Eugenia,” Ravenscar said with a bow. “It will be a pleasure to count you amongst my relations.”
“And you, My Lord,” Aunt Eugenia returned.
They stepped out into the cold. Although on the second-to-last step, Charlotte turned back. “No library?”
“No,” he replied. “But every instrument you could imagine. But if a library is something you require, then you shall have it.”
He nodded once and then turned back inside.
Charlotte shook her head. How peculiar her life had become.
CHAPTER 9
NOVEMBER 2ND, 1814
Rhys woke up and stared at the ceiling. It was his wedding day.
He sighed and rolled onto his side, pulling the pillow close and pressing his cheek into its cool surface, only to be pricked by a rogue feather poking through the linen.
Even his bedding seemed determined to irritate him.
With a groan, he flung the offending pillow over his shoulder. It struck the sideboard, knocking over several miniatures. Two slid to the floor with a clatter.
