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That was an odd comment to make, but Trevor didn’t question it. He was just glad to find himself betrothed.
He hoped like hell that Seraphina would have no reason to regret choosing him. He might be a future earl, but he was also unsociable, difficult, and easily distracted. Keeping her happy wouldn’t be easy, but he had to believe he was capable of it.
CHAPTER 12
“Trevor, would you mind glancing over the guest list for the wedding before the Daltons arrive?” his mother asked from where she sat at the writing desk in the corner of the drawing room.
“Of course.” Trevor rose from the sofa. He’d been debating whether he ought to arrange another gift for Seraphina this evening. He wasn’t certain whether the custom of giving gifts was supposed to end with the betrothal or continue through to the wedding.
He crossed to stand at her side, his eyes popping wide open at the many, many names scrawled down the page. “Surely we needn’t invite every member of polite society.”
Lady Wembley tilted her face up, one of her eyebrows arching. “Your wedding will be one of the most significant events of the season. We can’t scrimp on invitations.”
He shivered, practically able to feel all of those eyeballs staring at him as he stood at the front of the church. The last thing he wanted was for absolutely everyone to be present if he said or did the wrong thing. He’d be a laughingstock.
Perhaps noting his expression, her eyebrow dropped, and she stood and clapped him firmly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll organize everything, and I’ll make certain that you know the order of events and exactly what to say. It will be over quickly, and you can retreat to your library for several days afterward if necessary. I’m refusing any invitations in the week after your wedding.”
“Thank you.” He relaxed a little. While he dreaded the thought of the wedding itself, he was looking forward to the marriage, and he knew that the fact his mother had taken control of planning meant that there was less on his plate and fewer ways in which he might misstep. “I appreciate you making it as painless as possible.”
“Your mother always knows best about these things.”
“Lord!” Trevor flinched. He’d been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his father entering the room.
Lady Wembley beamed. “Thank you, dear.” She turned back to Trevor. “The banns will be read soon, and Miss Dalton and I have corresponded about wedding attire. I’ve already ordered yours, and I believe she intends to do the same on Monday. Tonight, we’ll discuss decorations, and you needn’t worry about a thing. We’ll ensure it’s all taken care of.”
Lord Wembley offered him a smile. “It sounds like all you need to do is be there.”
Trevor pressed his lips together to suppress a reply that neither of them would want to hear. No doubt their words were intended as reassurances, but he couldn’t help feeling like everything was moving quickly and slipping out of his control. He’d put this whole thing in motion, but now it was like a runaway carriage, and he feared that the situation would end badly.
He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was worrying him; he just had a creeping sense of unease with no apparent cause and no idea what to do about it.
His father’s brows drew together as he surveyed Trevor before he settled his sharp eyes on his face. “Your cravat looks a little tight. You may want to loosen it.”
“It’s per—”
“Tonight is a dinner between people who will soon be family,” the earl continued, as if his wife hadn’t spoken. “All we’re doing is discussing wedding arrangements over an enjoyable meal. I doubt anyone will take it amiss if you relax your standards.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, glancing at his mother, who’d clearly intended to protest.
To his relief, she inclined her head and said, “I can’t see that it will do any harm.”
He grabbed at his cravat, tugging it loose and gulping air as he finally felt able to breathe again. Lady Wembley tsked and got up, batting his hands away and tidying it, although fortunately without tightening it at all.
There was a knock at the door, and they all turned toward it.
“Mr. Dalton and Miss Dalton are here,” the butler said, gesturing behind himself. “I’ve shown them into the parlor, but I’ve been informed that dinner is ready if you’d like to escort them to the dining room.”
“Thank you,” Lady Wembley replied. “We’ll do that.”
Trevor followed his parents to the parlor, his chest aching strangely as he laid eyes on Seraphina. Clad in a pink silk gown, with her hair curled and gathered atop her head and pearls around her neck, she was exquisite. Her vibrant blue eyes held his for a moment, and she smiled in a way that made it difficult for him to breathe despite the slackened silk around his neck.
She dipped into a curtsy. “A pleasure to see you all, and thank you for the invitation to dinner.”
“We’ve been looking forward to it,” Mr. Dalton said, giving his daughter’s shoulder a squeeze.
Trevor frowned. He wasn’t good at interpreting body language, but that didn’t seem like a particularly loving gesture. The grip looked too tight to be comfortable.
His mother swept forward, forcing Mr. Dalton aside so that she could embrace Seraphina. “We’re glad you could come.” She drew back, resting her hands on Seraphina’s shoulders more gently. “You’ve had quite a season, you poor dear. But at least it’ll all be better now.”
