Page 37 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
Chapter 8
Whiddon managed to remain calm for the rest of the evening.Treat this like any other dinner, just another social evening to be tolerated.
It did the trick. He endured, made it through dinner and port and conversation in the drawing room. He and Charlotte were toasted and teased and sought out by everyone. He held onto his façade and maintained his usual distance. He nearly convinced himself that perhaps marriage was something he could navigate.
Until Chester’s wife, Julia, stepped in close. “Your bride is beginning to look a little glassy-eyed, my lord. I’ll take her upstairs to change. Why don’t you send for the carriage?”
He stared at her.
“Tell them to wait for you at the gate at the end of the garden.” When he still didn’t respond, she smiled at him. “Take your wife home, Whiddon,” she said gently.
He realized abruptly that he’d made a miscalculation. Worse, he’d failed to connect the factors of the day’s events and arrive at the sum realization.
He was going to have to take Charlotte home.
To his home.
Tonight.
His mind raced, searching for an answer to this conundrum. He hadn’t yet found one when Julia beckoned him and bade him slip quietly out with Charlotte.
“I don’t think she’s up to the fanfare—or the innuendo, of a public departure,” Julia said with a smile.
Neither was he.
Charlotte came down the stairs. She wore a simple, navy carriage dress and carried a bandbox. He took it from her. Meeting his gaze, she flushed a little.
He frowned, looking closer. Had she been crying? “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “Aunt Bernadine came up while I was changing. She’s going home in the morning, to reassure the children.”
He understood. She was saying goodbye to her closest confidante and embarking on a new life. With him. He’d cry if he were in her shoes.
Julia led them into a study and out a glass door onto a terrace. “Down the stairs and through the garden. The gate is unlocked. Your carriage should be waiting.”
“Thank you,” Whiddon managed to get out. “For everything, Julia.”
Her face softened. “You are welcome. Congratulations, to both of you.” She engulfed Charlotte in a hug. “We’ll talk soon.”
He took his bride’s arm, thinking she did look a bit fatigued. Leading her down the flagged path, he held the gate for her, then the carriage door. When she was settled, he hesitated, standing outside. “I just had a thought. Perhaps we should spend the night at a hotel.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“It might be more suitable.”
“More suitable than beginning our marriage in the place that will be our home?”
He hesitated.
She let her head fall back and held out her hand. “I would like to see my new home. Would you mind?”
He sighed and nodded up at the coachman. “Home.” Climbing in, he settled across from her. She was relaxed against the squabs, but he sat rigidly. “There’s something I should tell you.”
She sat a little straighter. “Yes?”
“I’ve been so busy, between your cousin, the settlements, and making arrangements for the ceremony . . . I forgot . . . I failed to make arrangements at home.”
“I’m not sure what you mean?”
