Trouble at the Wedding by Laura Lee Guhrke Page A

aspects of your character? On the whole, I’d guess not. When he does, he won’t like it.”
    â€œI can manage him.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to bite her tongue off.
    â€œManage him?” Scarborough echoed, seeming quite entertained. “Well, I daresay you think so. He does have that weak chin. But I do think it’s a bit unfair of you to correlate that particular physical trait to the lack of a spine. A few days from now,” he went on, overriding her outraged protest about Bernard’s chin, “you might agree with me about that, after you’ve said the part about ‘until death us do part.’ Men, even those with weak chins, are often much less willing to be managed once they’ve got everything they want, especially an iron-clad marriage settlement in a country where divorce is almost impossible.”
    Annabel felt a sudden, inexplicable jolt of uncertainty. Was any of what he said true? she wondered, and then immediately shook her head, banishing that question and her momentary doubt. “You’re talkin’ nonsense!”
    â€œPerhaps I am. I often do. But your words do make me wonder—are you really the sort of girl who would be happy with a man she can ‘manage,’ as you put it?”
    It was her turn to laugh, for she was beginning to see just where this conversation was going. “I suppose I’d be much happier with someone else, someone clever and charming who’ll always try to spar and match wits with me? Someone like . . .” She paused, giving him her best wide-eyed look. “Someone like you, for instance?”
    â€œPossibly. Even I can be managed. If a woman does it properly.”
    Something in those words sent a rush of heat into her face, and she quickly looked away, returning her attention to the books along the shelf.
    â€œAnd,” he added, “I like to think I’m a more interesting conversationalist than Rummy.”
    â€œDon’t flatter yourself. You’re not.”
    â€œQuite. You must adore listening to dissertations on the inner workings of Parliament. Now that I’ve been put most decidedly in my place, I shall banish all hope of winning you, my heart broken and my dreams crushed. But before I go to the garden for an aperitif of worms, might I suggest muslin as the best binding for chilblains?”
    That reminder of what she’d just read was a bit sobering. “Is that what . . . what you’re supposed to do? Bind them?”
    â€œDon’t worry, your new sisters-in-law will show you how. Like all British girls, they’ve vast experience with that particular ailment. Well, except my sister. We installed radiators ages ago, along with gaslights, and bathrooms with hot water and flush toilets. Rumsford Castle, alas, is not so fortunate. They still use coal and candles up there. As to the matter of flush toilets, there aren’t any. There hasn’t been a hygienic improvement along those lines since they took out the moat.”
    She swallowed hard. No central heating? No bathrooms? Bernard hadn’t told her any of this. Lord, she felt as if she was going back to the primitive conditions of her Mississippi childhood, only at much icier temperatures. What was the point of being an aristocrat if one still had to use a privy pot and bathe out of a bucket?
    Scarborough was watching her, smiling, as if he could read her thoughts like the pages of a book. She lifted her chin, rallying. “That’s part of what the earl and I shall be doing. We intend to bring Rumsford Castle up to date.”
    That wasn’t quite true, for she and Bernard had only discussed restorations at Rumsford. They’d never talked about installing any modern amenities, mainly because she’d assumed an earl’s house would already have them. Still, now that she knew otherwise, she also knew where her money was going first. Bernard’s