attempting to understand her reluctance to marry him. His eyes were gray, a dark, smoky gray that could have been mistaken for almost any color from a distance. He had obviously shaved before their meeting, for his jaw was smooth with only the hint of a beard and she wondered, just for a moment, whether it felt smooth as Henry’s face always had.
“In two weeks I shall be departing Newport. Lord Hollings and I plan to see a bit of America before the wedding. Your father has told me your mother is planning a Christmas affair, so that gives us a good amount of time to see the sights.”
“Yes, it should,” she said, trying to hide her relief that he’d be leaving shortly. She had no illusions that Henry would reappear in her life, but she was so sick of pretending to be happy in public when she was not.
“I think we should take those two weeks and try to get to know one another. I understand there are many more balls. And your father would love to get me out on that yacht of his.”
Elizabeth felt beyond guilty that he should be trying so hard to act as if they were any other couple. She simply could not bring herself to do the same, not when that very morning when she awoke she’d believed with all her heart she’d be marrying another man. But she had to say something to him.
“I will try,” she said softly, and saw something flicker in his eyes, as if he were disappointed with her answer. Or angry.
“Well, then,” he said, standing. “Why don’t you go tell your mother you are about to become the newest duchess in England.”
He seemed so pleased with that statement when all it did was make her feel slightly ill. “I will.” Elizabeth rushed from the room feeling his eyes burning into her back.
“She acts as if I am sentencing her to death. Or at least torture. I do not know how long I can remain patient with her,” Rand said, pushing back his second brandy. He was not a drinking man, so already he was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, a warm soothing relaxing sensation. Perhaps he would become a drinking man, at least until this wretched wedding was over.
“Apparently you’ll have to be patient with her until at least Christmas,” Edward said, eyeing his friend carefully.
Rand scowled, staring at his brandy as if it were offensive. “Have you noticed that all these American cities are named for cities in England? New London, Bristol, Boston, York. Oh, they’ll put a ‘new’ in front of it as if it’s delightfully original, but it’s all the same. I’ll bet not one of these people has even been to York. And I’ll further bet their new York is nothing like the original.” He paced back and forth in their small library, a place where, to Rand’s great irritation, Edward enjoyed holing up.
“Providence.”
“What the deuce does providence have to do with anything?”
“The city of Providence. We don’t have a Providence back home,” Edward said in that distracted way he had when he didn’t really care what Rand was spouting off about.
“There’s one, then.”
“Newport.”
“We have a Newport,” Rand pointed out triumphantly. “On the Isle of Wight. I’ve been there, actually, for a wedding. Blasted dreary affair it was, too. A sixteen-year-old girl marrying a fifty-five-year-old earl. Now that’s something to be upset about. That’s something to cry about.”
Edward lifted his head from his book. “Miss Cummings was crying?”
“No. But it was quite apparent she had been. I’m surprised she didn’t cry when I gave her that ridiculous ring. I couldn’t bring myself to explain it, but I could see she was confused by its inferior quality. Everything’s been sold. Everything. Hell, it was the best I could do given the circumstances. I haven’t gotten a check yet from her father,” he said bitterly. Apparently, the brandy was making him feel sorry for himself, something he completely abhorred even though he found himself of late falling into that
“In two weeks I shall be departing Newport. Lord Hollings and I plan to see a bit of America before the wedding. Your father has told me your mother is planning a Christmas affair, so that gives us a good amount of time to see the sights.”
“Yes, it should,” she said, trying to hide her relief that he’d be leaving shortly. She had no illusions that Henry would reappear in her life, but she was so sick of pretending to be happy in public when she was not.
“I think we should take those two weeks and try to get to know one another. I understand there are many more balls. And your father would love to get me out on that yacht of his.”
Elizabeth felt beyond guilty that he should be trying so hard to act as if they were any other couple. She simply could not bring herself to do the same, not when that very morning when she awoke she’d believed with all her heart she’d be marrying another man. But she had to say something to him.
“I will try,” she said softly, and saw something flicker in his eyes, as if he were disappointed with her answer. Or angry.
“Well, then,” he said, standing. “Why don’t you go tell your mother you are about to become the newest duchess in England.”
He seemed so pleased with that statement when all it did was make her feel slightly ill. “I will.” Elizabeth rushed from the room feeling his eyes burning into her back.
“She acts as if I am sentencing her to death. Or at least torture. I do not know how long I can remain patient with her,” Rand said, pushing back his second brandy. He was not a drinking man, so already he was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, a warm soothing relaxing sensation. Perhaps he would become a drinking man, at least until this wretched wedding was over.
“Apparently you’ll have to be patient with her until at least Christmas,” Edward said, eyeing his friend carefully.
Rand scowled, staring at his brandy as if it were offensive. “Have you noticed that all these American cities are named for cities in England? New London, Bristol, Boston, York. Oh, they’ll put a ‘new’ in front of it as if it’s delightfully original, but it’s all the same. I’ll bet not one of these people has even been to York. And I’ll further bet their new York is nothing like the original.” He paced back and forth in their small library, a place where, to Rand’s great irritation, Edward enjoyed holing up.
“Providence.”
“What the deuce does providence have to do with anything?”
“The city of Providence. We don’t have a Providence back home,” Edward said in that distracted way he had when he didn’t really care what Rand was spouting off about.
“There’s one, then.”
“Newport.”
“We have a Newport,” Rand pointed out triumphantly. “On the Isle of Wight. I’ve been there, actually, for a wedding. Blasted dreary affair it was, too. A sixteen-year-old girl marrying a fifty-five-year-old earl. Now that’s something to be upset about. That’s something to cry about.”
Edward lifted his head from his book. “Miss Cummings was crying?”
“No. But it was quite apparent she had been. I’m surprised she didn’t cry when I gave her that ridiculous ring. I couldn’t bring myself to explain it, but I could see she was confused by its inferior quality. Everything’s been sold. Everything. Hell, it was the best I could do given the circumstances. I haven’t gotten a check yet from her father,” he said bitterly. Apparently, the brandy was making him feel sorry for himself, something he completely abhorred even though he found himself of late falling into that
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