Page 24 of The Mister I Married

Chapter Eight

To say Lady Keswick was pleased by the news of Emmy’s engagement would be an elephantine understatement.

Her mother had talked of nothing else these last three days, and even now, in their drawing room full of whist-playing women, she seemed unable to think of anything but the wedding.

“It is your play, Mother,” Emmy murmured, casting her an imploring, verging-on-desperate glance.

Unsurprisingly, the hint went ignored.

“We are planning an August wedding, you know,” Lady Keswick said to the table’s other two occupants, Hortense and Hettie Letrout, plump spinster sisters with glossy white hair and matching gowns of blue and brown twill. “It will be an intimate affair here at home with only family in attendance.”

“You must be positively thrilled, my lady,” Miss Hettie, the younger, sweeter sister, said from her seat across from the marchioness. “Both of your children, marrying one right after the other. How wonderful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Lady Keswick beamed. “I am so close to being a grandmother, I can almost hear the little ones laughing and playing together.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Emmy stifled a groan, her gaze slipping longingly to her cards. Could they not return to the game, or at least talk of something else?

Anything else?

It wasn’t that she was unhappy with the betrothal, of course. She had no regrets.

She did, however, feel a bit anxious about being a wife, and the never-ending wedding talk did nothing to soothe her agitated nerves.

Unfortunately, her mother showed no signs of quitting anytime soon, nor did her audience seem to want her to. Indeed, the Letrout sisters looked set in for the summer.

“I did wonder if you would ever marry, Lady Emmaline,” Miss Letrout said, eyeing Emmy with blue eyes identical to her sister’s though far less kind. “This is your fourth Season, is it not?”

“No, ma’am,” Emmy said breezily. “It is my fifth.”

“Gracious me.” Thin penciled brows arched. “And yet, here you are, against all the odds, finally engaged to be married. How marvelous for you.”

Miraculous was what she really meant to say, the old busybody. Emmy gave the woman a wide, insincere smile.

She could stand up for herself, she supposed, and tell the woman it was her choice not to marry earlier, but it would only be a waste of breath and time.

Miss Letrout would never believe a woman would choose not to marry. After all, she hadn’t.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Whitcomb is a lovely man,” Lady Keswick said brightly. “Well worth the wait. Isn’t he, Emmy?”

Her mother’s gaze speared her from across the table, a not-so-subtle command to play nice.

Emmy nodded. “Indeed he is, Mother.”

“I haven’t met Mr. Whitcomb yet,” Miss Hettie said. “Is he very handsome?”

Emmy’s lips parted, the question catching her off guard. “I…he…”

“For pity’s sake, Hettie,” Miss Letrout said. “She is going to marry the man. What answer would she give but yes?”

Miss Hettie waved her sister’s words away as if she’d done so a thousand times before.

“Well, I’m not marrying him, and I think he is very handsome,” Lady Keswick said.

Emmy leaned in close to Miss Hettie as if imparting a secret. “He has broad shoulders and striking hazel eyes.”

“Oh, my.” Miss Hettie nudged Emmy’s elbow with her own, her blue eyes sparkling. “Lucky girl.”

She was lucky, yes, but not because Alex was handsome. His looks had nothing to do with her desire to marry him.