Page 22 of A Marriage Most Convenient

“Then let us get you married,” Amelia said.

“Any last-minute advice from all you seasoned wives?” Charlotte asked.

“Allow him to take his time tonight,” Meg said with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

“Honestly, Meg, he’s my brother,” Willow said with a shudder, then stepped out of the bedroom.

Tonight.

Her wedding night.

When Edmond would come to her bed and claim her as his own. She’d been so preoccupied with the details of the ceremony and packing her belongings, she’d not once stopped to consider that Edmond would be putting his hands on her body. Charlotte hadn’t given that aspect much thought at all. She followed the rest of them out of her bedroom and down the stairs to her waiting family. As they climbed into the carriages, her mind tried to find all the things about your wedding night that her mother had told her so many years ago.

She was not completely naïve when it came to matters of the flesh. She’d felt desire and she’d been kissed. Perhaps tonight would not be much different. It was hard to imagine stoic, unflappable Edmond swept away with desire.

Before she knew it, Charlotte and Edmond were standing in front of the registrar, holding hands. The few friends and family in attendance had crowded into the small office, and stood bunched together. A few sniffles escaped, and Charlotte knew her mother was crying. Whether they be tears of joy or sadness, she was unsure. And in the end, it didn’t truly matter. She’d made a colossal mistake, and unfortunately, the people closest to her and Edmond would pay the price.

She listened as Edmond promised to cherish and protect her. Then, she herself made vows to love and care for him. Finally, the registrar made a legal decree and a final announcement.

“You may kiss your bride,” the registrar said.

Edmond cradled her face and pressed his lips to hers. It was a whisper of a kiss, but so gentle, sweet, and unexpectedly romantic that tears sprang to her eyes. When he stepped away from her, he met her eyes briefly and gave her a slight nod, as if to say it would all be all right. Oh, how she longed to believe him.

Edmond stood in his study, swirling a glass of brandy. His blushing bride was waiting for him upstairs. He’d hired a maid for her, and at the moment, she should be preparing Charlotte for her wedding night. Their wedding night. Just the mere thought of touching her had his cock thickening against his thigh.

He’d taken it upon himself to purchase her a few new items, including a nightgown for tonight. He swigged the amber-colored liquid. She would be upstairs, in his bedchamber, wearing nothing but that sheer nightgown, waiting for him to come to her. Waiting for him to make her his wife.

Yet here he was, downstairs.

Because the truth was, he was angry. With her and with himself. Had he been able to keep his hands—and lips—off of her to begin with, they wouldn’t be in this predicament. But she’d rejected his proposals. Twice. She did not want him. She’d only married him because her mother had talked some sense into her.

Had he not been the reason for her fall from society, he would have walked away from her when she’d begged him to reconsider his offer. He could still reject her though. Give her a taste of what she’d done to men for years. Was it petty of him? Perhaps.

But he also had to prove to himself that he could withstand temptation. Not be so bloody weak. He did the right thing, he married her. He salvaged her reputation and given her protection.

He’d been taking himself in hand for years with her image in his mind. He’d do so again tonight because he refused to give her any kind of power over him.

CHAPTER 9

Charlotte awoke, and the memories of the night before came rushing back. Her new maid had prepared her for the wedding night. She’d donned a gown that she’d been told had been specifically selected by her husband. It fit her perfectly, though the sheer fabric did very little to cover her intimate areas.

But he’d never come to her. She’d eventually fallen asleep, her body angled across her bed, tears dried in streaks down her cheeks. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Pursued for her “incomparable beauty” as men had commonly said for years, then finally married to the one man immune to her physical charms.

It would do her no good to wallow in her misfortune, as it were. Edmond was not old or cruel. He would take good care of her, and perhaps he would visit her bed on special occasions. His birthday, perhaps. She sat up, intending to ring for her maid, but paused to listen at the noises she heard outside her door.

There was a ruckus at the door, then it burst open, and she saw nothing but fur. Two giant, hairy creatures bounded onto the bed and Edmond just laughed. That deep baritone voice mixed with humor did funny things to her insides. She stared at him, uncertain if she’d ever seen him smile so wide, or laugh so deep. Or laugh at all.

“Begging your pardon, Mistress Charlotte, I tried to keep them out, but they’re very insistent,” the servant said.

“It’s alright, Porter. I’ve got it from here,” Edmond said, entering her room.

The older man suppressed a grin, bowed, then backed out of the room.

Charlotte stared at the barefoot, shirtless man standing in her bedchamber. She would never have guessed that unassuming Edmond would be hiding an athletic physique beneath his clothes. But that’s precisely what he had. Though she could only see his torso, as his legs were covered in trousers, his chest, arms, and stomach were a miracle to look upon.

She simply did not know where to look first. His rounded, broad shoulders or the defined musculature of his arms. Perhaps the wide expanse of skin, several shades darker than her own, with flat, copper-colored discs on his pectorals. Then everything tapered into a narrowed waist with a V-like indention in his skin, pointing downward to beneath his pants.

The light-brown hair scattered across his skin arrowed into a thin line between those perfectly sculpted abdominal muscles.

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