Alex laughed out loud. “I promise you, my love, that in honor of our first meeting, we shall have plenty of flowers at your wedding, but you won’t have to arrange any of them.”
Emma stole a quick glance at his profile as he laughed. He couldn’t be treating her so tenderly if he didn’t love her a little, could he? She brushed aside her doubts. If he didn’t love her yet, he did desire her, that much was abundantly clear. And he liked her a great deal, too. That was certainly a good start. Emma took a deep breath as she felt her infamous stubborn streak rise up within her. She could make this marriage work. She would make it work. She had to.
The next few days passed by in a flurry of activity. Alex tried to stick by his initial idea of having the wedding that weekend, but after five minutes of “discussion” with Caroline, he reluctantly agreed to push the date back by a week. Emma wisely kept out of the fray.
“A week and a half is still dreadful,” Caroline remarked. “But at least we can put together something nice. Two days would have been impossible.”
An hour after Alex finally left that morning, the dowager Duchess of Ashbourne arrived on the Blydon doorstep, insisting that she be allowed to take part in the wedding preparations. No one pointed out that it was only half past seven in the morning. Eugenia seemed to regard her son’s forthcoming nuptials as nothing short of a miracle, and the mere fact that the early hour was beyond unfashionable wasn’t going to stop her from making sure that the marriage went off without a hitch. After about fifteen minutes with Eugenia and Caroline, Emma finally threw up her arms, asked the two ladies to please consult her on any decision of large importance, went upstairs to her room, and promptly went to bed. She hadn’t had very much sleep the previous night, after all.
When she awoke, some six hours later, she was famished. Someone had managed to pull away from the wedding plans long enough to thoughtfully see that a tray was brought up to Emma’s room, so she quickly gulped down the slice of meat pie and juice that had been left on her dressing table, took a bath, and got dressed. After a day in men’s clothing, she found her jade green walking dress somewhat confining but decided that it really wouldn’t do to continue walking around in breeches. Then she sat down at her desk and penned a quick note to her father, explaining her circumstances and promising to write him a more lengthy letter soon, telling him all about Alex and the wedding.
When she finally headed downstairs at three o’clock, Caroline and Eugenia were exactly where she had left them, tossing names back and forth as they prepared the guest list. Belle and Sophie had joined the party and were having a heated argument over Emma’s bouquet. When they saw the bride arrive, they immediately turned the matter over to her.
“Oh, roses, I think,” Emma replied. “Don’t you?”
Both women rolled their eyes. “Yes, of course, but what color?” Belle asked.
“Oh. Well, that depends on what color I choose for my attendants’ gowns, I suppose.”
Belle and Sophie looked at her expectantly, and Emma realized that she was going to have to make a decision. “Well, the two of you will be my only attendants, so what color would you like to wear?”
“Peach.”
“Blue.”
Emma swallowed. “I see. Well, perhaps we ought to just go with white roses in my bouquet for now. White will match everything. Especially me!” she added with a jaunty smile. “I can get married in white, can’t I?” she asked quickly. “I know it’s not the height of fashion, but I have a friend in Boston who wore white for her wedding, and it was so beautiful.”
“You can get married in whatever color you want,” her aunt replied. “Your first fitting is this evening. Madame Lambert is staying open late tonight so that we can get the dress done in time.”
“That’s very kind of her,” Emma murmured, wondering how much extra Caroline had offered to persuade the dressmaker to extend her hours. “What else have you decided upon?”
“We’ll hold the wedding at Westonbirt, if you don’t mind,” Caroline said. “It’s too late to get any of the large cathedrals here in London.”
“I know it’s customary for the wedding to be held at the bride’s home,” Eugenia put in. “But you do live in Boston, after all, and Westonbirt is several hours closer to London than your cousins’ country home.”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Emma replied. “Westonbirt is lovely. And after all, it’s soon to be my home.”
Eugenia’s eyes filled with tears as she took both of Emma’s hands in her own. “I’m so glad that you’re joining our family.”
“Thank you,” Emma said, giving Eugenia’s hands a squeeze. “I’m glad to be joining it.”
“Now then,” Caroline said breezily. “Back to the guest list. What about Viscount Benton?”
Emma gasped. Anthony Woodside? “No!” she cried out.
Caroline and Eugenia both turned to look at her, their expressions quizzical.
“I—I really don’t like him,” she said quickly. “And I think he makes Belle uncomfortable.”
Belle nodded.
“Very well,” Caroline said, making a dark slash through his name on the list she was preparing.
“I can’t imagine that most people will be able to attend,” Emma said, somewhat hopefully. “It’s such late notice, after all, and a three-hour ride from London.”
All four of her companions turned to her with shocked expressions. “Are you crazy?” Belle finally asked. “People are going to be tripping over themselves to get there. The Duke of Ashbourne is getting married. The duke of ‘I have no interest in marriage’ is getting married. And he’s marrying a relatively unknown quantity from the Colonies, no less. This is going to be the social event of the season.”