Page 39 of Sincerely, the Duke
“If she doesn’t, she can find out for you. That is part of her duties too.”
“All right,” Edwina answered, feeling comforted by the possibility someone might help her. “If you are sure, I’ll ask her tonight.”
CHAPTER 13
THE ART OF BEING A FINE GENTLEMAN
SIR DUDLEY SAMSON PEMBERTON FINE
There is no better way to show the art of being a fine gentleman than to allow a lady to win an argument.
Staying in his chambers at the behest of his mother posed no problem at first. Watching all the preparations for his wedding was the last thing Rick wanted to do. He had three morning newsprints to read and two account books to look over. Now that those were finished, there wasn’t much to occupy his time but stare out over the kitchen garden or pace in front of the fireplace. Neither he wanted to do.
With all the constant talking, laughter, and moving around coming from belowstairs, he wondered if the staff would manage to get everything finished in time. They all seemed to be having one jolly of a time.
Nervousness wasn’t something Rick had dealt with before. Not that he could remember anyway. As one of the best marksmen in England, he had participated in more shooting contests than he could count. In all of them he’d never had the tightness in his chest or jittery feeling in his stomach that he had now. But the stakes had never been this high. Getting married was an entirelydifferent experience from any he’d ever had, and though he’d never admit it to anyone, he wasn’t sure he was handling it well.
The fidgety feelings started when Palmer told him Miss Fine’s belongings had been delivered. The sound of luggage hitting the floor in the rooms connected to Rick’s chambers brought home the reality of marriage. The permanently vacant adjoining rooms would now be occupied. By his wife. Only a few steps from him. That would take a bit of getting used to.
It could be that he hadn’t really thought through the idea of marriage and all the ramifications of it the past few days. He knew how to conduct himself and manage a proper young lady, a mistress, and his mother. But a wife? He wasn’t sure. Miss Fine intrigued him immensely, but still, the thought of a wife was obtrusive. No doubt it was going to take some getting used to.
With all thanks to his overprotective mother and hovering servants, except for Hurst and Wyatt, he’d never enjoyed having people around him for any length of time. Miss Fine would be with him for life. A responsibility that would never cease. There was so much more to a relationship called marriage—love and cherish, protect and honor, in sickness and health, until death. The last was a worry he kept pushed to the back of his mind. He couldn’t dwell on the possibility of the fever returning.
Rick hadn’t mentioned the recurring fever to Miss Fine for good reasons. Most important was that his physician and apothecary assured him there was the possibility he’d never have another. Why worry her about something that might never happen? But they’d also reluctantly admitted there was no guarantee he wouldn’t have another. And if the fever came again, they had no way of knowing how bad it would be.
Perhaps it wasn’t a wife, marriage, or a fever at all, but just his mother’s machinations about the wedding that had him feeling as if he were sitting on the edge of a cliff and about to fall off. She had arrived well over an hour ago now and had every servant in the house bustling about, changing out flowers, moving furniture, and obviously making a nuisance of herself to Palmer and the rest of the staff. She’d insisted Rick must go abovestairs and wait until Palmer came for him. That would be the signal his bride was ready to enter the drawing room and take her place beside him.
Rick considered all the prewedding planning unnecessary and couldn’t wait for the ceremony to be over.
The wedding was to start at eleven. Ten minutes before the hour, Rick decided he’d had enough of his mother’s instructions. He started down the stairs. Before he managed to get halfway, he saw it wasn’t servants making all the noise but a crowd of handsomely dressed people gathered in the vestibule and corridor, spilling over into the drawing room.
No wonder he’d heard such chatter and stirring about. What the hell were all these members of Society doing at his house?
He made it to the bottom and had to thread his way through the buzzing throng, brushing past the bows, curtsies, and congratulations from all he passed with little to no acknowledgment in return. The trail of well-wishers funneled into the drawing room, which, to his irritation, was packed as tightly as the vestibule and corridor. Thankfully, at his appearance, the chatter of the crowd reduced to a low respectful hum that seemed to roll like distant thunder all around him.
“Damnation,” he muttered to himself. Where did these people get the idea they were invited to his wedding? Hecaught a glimpse of his mother near the fireplace, looking regal in her summer sky frock, talking to the vicar with a delighted expression on her face. Knowing he’d found the guilty party, he headed toward her.
After nodding a greeting to the robed clergyman, Rick turned his attention to his mother and the minister stepped away. In a low voice, Rick whispered to her, “Who are all these people?”
She looked at him with genteel surprise in her blue eyes. “What do you mean, Stonerick? They are friends who are here to help celebrate your wedding.”
“No, Maman. I have three friends: Hurst, Wyatt, and Fredericka.”
“Yes. They arrived moments ago and are just over there waiting to speak to you after the ceremony.” She pointed to the far side of the room but they were nowhere in sight. “Well, perhaps it was down the corridor where I saw them, but I know they are here.”
He should have known the duchess was up to mischief when she arrived early. It wasn’t like her to insist he’d be in the way and should excuse himself so the servants could get everything ready.
“These people areyourfriends, Maman. Not mine.”
“Oh, botheration, Stonerick.” She lifted her chin and smiled defiantly and then looked around the room as she proclaimed, “You know everyone here. Maybe not well because you never put forth the effort, but you know who they are. You’ve played cards with all the men here and you’ve danced with most of the ladies. It’s so near the Season, everyone is in Town. Why are you being ungenerous on such an important day in your life?”
“You know I don’t like crowds,” he said with rough impatience as a throbbing started in his temples. For a fleeting instant, he worried the fever might be returning.It always started with a headache. He quickly pushed that possibility from his mind. “There must be more than a hundred people here.”
His mother smiled as sweetly as she ever had. “Maybe a little over,” she said innocently. “You told me I could invite some friends.”
An undercurrent of frustration crept into his voice again. In a hushed tone, he replied, “I said a few, Maman. A few is a handful. Five, not half the ton. You’ve invited everyone you’ve ever met.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her eyes remained steadfast, but her lips formed a tiny smile. “I did no such thing. I had to leave many off my list because I didn’t want to outshine the ball tomorrow evening. But, I don’t mind if we come close. Don’t worry. In the end, you will be happy I did this for you.”
