Page 15 of Everything But the Earl
“I don’t know what any of that means, but I can promise I have plenty of space. But surely your life is not just pottery. What else do you like to do?”
She smiled. He didn’t even know her, and he was ready to give her everything she ever wanted. “I have a few close friends I socialize with. I’m useless at needlepoint. I like to read.”
“Any good books lately?”
“There’s a lady writer who publishes anonymously who writes the most delightful comedies. I just read one calledEmmaabout a woman who acts as a matchmaker for all her friends but becomes too arrogant and gets her comeuppance. In the end, she finds her perfect match with a childhood friend. Charming, no?”
“It sounds it.”
She looked him over. He seemed earnest. Her greatest fear was that they’d have nothing to talk about with each other, but she imagined she could see the depths of Owen’s intelligence in his eyes. He seemed passionate about his home and curious about her life. So she said, “I do believe we will find things to speak about on our long journey to Wales.”
He let out a breath and took one of her hands. “I just hope you do not feel trapped in this situation.”
“Trapped? No. Do you?”
“No, not at all.” He looked up and met her gaze. “You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. In our time together, you have always been friendly and witty. I cannot imagine being married to you would be in any way a hardship.”
“Good. I know this is not exactly what either of us wanted, but I think we…can make the most of it.”
Owen smiled. “My friend Fletcher—Baron Fowler—called this an opportunity.”
“And perhaps it is that.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I would like to talk more, but I have business to attend to this afternoon. I suppose we will have plenty of time on our journey out to Caernarfon.”
“I look forward to it,” she said.
*
Owen arrived atthe church on the morning of his wedding still not quite believing this was happening.
He was frankly baffled by how traditional this was. He knew so many gentlemen of thetonwho had been caught in similar situations to his but had procured special licenses and rushed into weddings. Owen had in the past wondered if he would fall for someone scandalous, an opera singer or a servant, someone he bedded in advance of his wedding and simply could not keep away from. His sister had been reading those sentimental novels about dukes falling in love with their governesses and other such fiddle faddle, and maybe that had sunk into Owen’s brain. And there was Hugh, who had fallen in love with his bride and practically dragged her to the altar.
Owen liked Grace, but did not know her well enough to love her, and, well, here he was, marrying a virginal lady, the daughter of a marquess, exactly the sort of woman his family wanted for him.
His mother was over the moon.
He peeked into the sanctuary and saw his mother sitting in the front row, already crying. His sister and brother-in-law were seated beside her. Hugh, Adele, Lark, and Anthony sat just behind them. The rest of his side of the aisle was occupied by his various friends from Parliament, from Eton and Oxford, and the few of his Welsh cousins who could make the journey in time.
“You’re really doing this,” said Fletcher, who stood at his side.
“Yes. It will…it will be all right.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“Remains to be seen.”
“I am the lone person in our circle without a mate, you know.” Fletcher leaned against the wall.
Owen was trying to talk himself into entering the sanctuary and taking his spot at the altar. He didn’t have time for whatever crisis Fletcher was having. “Lark isn’t married.”
“He has Beresford, as I continue to remind you. Even if they can’t marry, they have each other for…companionship.”
Owen grunted. His stomach kept flopping over. He could not explain why he was so nervous.
The priest walked over and told Owen it was time.
And so, a few minutes later, Owen waited at the altar for his bride, worried his heart would pound right out of his chest. And then suddenly, she was there.
