A June Bride by Teresa DesJardien

better…
    “Wants a what?” Emmeline asked, flowing into the room with a swish of rose skirts.
    Lady Warring covered her face with both hands. “A…a…”
    “A divorce,” Alessandra whispered, tossing her armload of supplies onto the bed. “Only, he doesn’t.” She moved to make sure the bedroom door was closed completely.
    Lady Warring peeked between her fingers. “He doesn’t?”
    Alessandra waggled her head, indicating uncertainty. “We mean to try to make the marriage work—”
    “Mean to? Try to? What nonsense you speak. You have wed, and now you have but one path, one duty. You will manage as every other couple in the history of the world has—”
    “Mama, let her speak,” Emmeline inserted. She crossed to put a hand on her sister’s arm. “Alessandra, this does seem rather…peculiar. Tell us what you mean.”
    So she told them all that she and Geoffrey had discussed. “…you see, he gave his word. To someone. Possibly Lady Chenmarth.”
    “I wager it was his mama,” Mama huffed, collapsing onto the dressing bench at the end of the bed. “Her marriage has, by all accounts, been dreadful. But, even so, what mother asks such a thing of her son? No, we must be wrong.” She thought a moment longer, and frowned. “Perhaps.”
    Emmeline stood with a finger on her chin. “But, Alessandra, it was only a promise, and none of your making. There is no catastrophe here. You have only to never mention you want…that thing, and it will never come to be.”
    “That’s true.” Lady Warring perked up at once.
    “So you fretted for no reason, Mama,” Emmeline told her.
    Lady Warring had the grace to look embarrassed. “It was simply I could not believe my ears when your father said…that thing. For my Lessie? In this family? I should think not!”
    That thing. My marriage has an unspeakable title: that thing, Alessandra thought.
    When Lady Warring swept out, Emmeline stayed behind. The sisters sat on the bench their mama had given up.
    Emmeline took up one of Alessandra’s hands. “I came up to tell you wedding gifts have begun to be delivered.”
    “Oh,” Alessandra said, deflating even further.
    Emmeline leaned in as though to read her face. “That was not a very happy response.”
    “I hadn’t thought of receiving gifts.”
    Emmeline squeezed her hand. “Hmm. So, now Mama is gone, tell me what is distressing you.”
    Alessandra hadn’t thought to cry, hadn’t meant to, but tears sprang to life and trickled down her face. “It’s…it’s that I don’t know. Any other bride expects she’s made her bed and is ready to lie in it.” There was a watery laugh in the edge of her voice. “I’m not even sure where my bed ought to be.”
    Emmeline only lifted the corner of her mouth a little at the turns of phrase. Mostly, her face was full of a tender concern that told Alessandra to go on.
    “But what does he think?” Alessandra cried out. “What does he want? Who starts a life together with an offer to end it?”
    Emmeline was silent a long moment, then patted Alessandra’s hand. “There’s no way to know. Except one.”
    Alessandra looked up, hope dawning for a moment, but then understanding struck. Her shoulders slumped again. “I have to ask him?” she ventured in a small voice.
    “You have to ask him.”
    Alessandra let her head weave from side to side, not quite a denial. At least her tears had stopped. “It’s difficult. I scarce know him. It’s hard to ask how he likes his tea, let alone if he wants his future to include me.”
    “Hard, but worthwhile. You’re only afraid what he says may hurt.”
    Alessandra gave a hiccupy little laugh. “Only?”
    “You know marriage is a rocky thing. This is only the first little issue you two might have to work past.”
    Alessandra pressed her lips together. Her mother and sister presumed this marriage would go on. What perversity in Alessandra’s nature made her now balk at their easy presumptions? Perhaps because their