Page 26 of The Rules of Matrimony
“I am glad to see he has given up. Will you tell me if there is anything else you require? If you say the word, I shall see to it.”
She lowered her gaze to her hands, where she started absently pulling at the tips of her gloves. “About the wedding ...”
“Yes?”
“Rule number one ...” Her voice drifted, and she looked up at him expectantly.
He finished the rule in his head:no touching. “What about it?”
“The ceremony.”
Ah, she was referring to the marriage kiss. The Anglican church preferred a more solemn ceremony, without displays of affection, but it was not unheard of for couples in love to do so anyway. “We’ll keep to the contract. No need to put on a show for anyone.”
Amie nodded but didn’t look at him. He hoped he had brought her a measure of relief. He would speak with the rector performing the ceremony and make certain there wasn’t a mention of anything of the sort. He did not want anyone to be confused, especially his wife. She deserved to be treated with utmost respect.
This was part of the reason he’d planned a secret wedding, not even inviting his closest friends, with the exception of Paul, who had agreed to act as a witness. There was enough gossip bubbling through thetonover his engagement, and he did not care for random spectators to join the wedding party or crowd the streets to gawk at them. This would be an extremely private affair. The perfect beginning to their marriage of convenience.
Perfect, in the loosest sense. An air of awkwardness hovered between him and Amie, and he had no doubt that it would worsen by the time they were wed.
He cleared his throat. “I will send my carriage for you and your trunks in the morning. The ceremony will begin at half past nine.”
She gave the smallest nod. “I won’t be late.”
“Excellent,” he said, satisfied with his plans. He had been thorough, and he had no intention of anything going wrong. Getting married at all was trouble enough.
Chapter 10
Amie wore a soft-pink gownwith puffed sleeves. It bore a pretty flounce on the hem and a stylish lower waistline. Aunt had insisted she wear a pearl band in her hair, a gold chain at her neck, and new slippers—pink, to match her gown. Amie had not relished her time with the Nelsons, but she would forever be grateful that their pride had led to a more updated wardrobe. It did not give her full confidence in marrying a viscount, but it did give her a little. If only she could gather her courage to walk into the church. Mama was already inside.
“Are you ready?” The stern male voice made her look up. Lord Kellen met her with Lady Kellen on his arm. “I have never escorted anyone down the aisle before, but I have no intention of dallying and dragging it out.”
She forced a smile. “Thank you for responding to my note. I could have easily asked my Uncle Nelson to escort me in place of my father, but it seemed more appropriate to ask you.”
His cheeks flinched, as if the thought occurred to him to smile, but he changed his mind. “If my son did not object, then I have no reason to.”
“I don’t see why he would. After all, weddings are intimate occasions and generally for the closest family and friends.” And her relationship with her uncle was not close at all, despite their sudden gifts thrown her way.
“I shall be waiting inside.” Lady Kellen released her husband and kissed Amie’s cheek. “You look radiant. Ian will not be able to take his eyes off you.”
Heat bloomed from Amie’s cheeks to her toes. “Oh, he won’t be—”
“He will,” Lady Kellen said, cutting Amie off. “It’s going to be a lovely ceremony.” She turned and left Amie alone with Lord Kellen.
The man arched his back, the tight muscles likely circumstantial. Then he cleared his throat not once but twice. “Shall we?”
Amie set her hand on his and before she knew it, Lord Kellen had led her through the church doors. This was really happening. She was getting married—with strict parameters—but married all the same.
She had never fainted before, but when she saw Ian standing like a regal prince, with his fine-tailored suit emphasizing his long, angular figure, and his exquisite profile fit for a marble statue of a Greek god, she went weak in the knees. Would she be able to make it to him without fainting?
His gaze swung to meet hers, his keen blue eyes drawing wide. She did not dare believe it, but she swore his cheeks colored too. Ian—the stoic Lord Reynolds—Lord Grumpy himself—had actually reacted to seeing her. Did he think her beautiful? The impossible thought did something to her nerves. It steadied her, allowing her to put one foot in front of the other.
However, the flattering thought did not mean she could continue to stare at him and soak in his commanding presence. Her eyes darted to either side of the aisle at their guests. There were more people in attendance than she had expected.
Mama dabbed a handkerchief to her wet eyes, and beside her, Uncle and Aunt sat rigidly in their seats. Cousin Robert was nowhere to be seen. His absence was a fortunate one.
On the groom’s side, Lady Kellen sat beside a young woman lavishly dressed, with a feather in her hair and stunning features. At least she was not Miss Foster. Perhaps a cousin? Ian couldn’t have many friends, despite his earlier assurances that he did. He did not have the personality for it.
But then again, Ian had not mentioned any other guests coming.
