Trouble at the Wedding by Laura Lee Guhrke Page B

like to.”
    â€œYes, I just bet you would.”
    Her knowing reply didn’t put him off. Instead, it made him grin, a flash of white in a dark, reckless face. “But as I said, we shall have to wait at least several years. Every peer expects his heir to be his, you see, not some other bloke’s, so I’m afraid I must valiantly resist your charms until then.”
    â€œHow noble of you.”
    â€œBeing noble has nothing to do with it, love. Rummy is one of those hopelessly old-fashioned chaps that might actually call me out for fathering the next Earl Rumsford, and he happens to be a decent shot. I like living too much to take the chance.”
    Without giving her any opportunity to reply, he spoke again. “Unfortunately for you, he’s also as dull as a scullery maid’s dishrag. So, when the heir and the spare are safely ensconced in the nursery, and Rumsford has become as boring to you as he is to everyone else, I hope you will call upon me, Miss Wheaton. You’ll only have to say hullo in that gorgeous voice of yours,” he added with a bow, “and I shall fall at your feet, and into your bed. Rummy, I assure you, won’t blink an eye. It’s the English way. All part of the rules, you see.”
    Annabel was torn between rebuking him for his presumptions and asking him what he meant about rules, but he turned away before she could decide which course of action tempted her more. He ducked out of sight around the corner, and a moment later, she could hear the tap of his footsteps as he ascended the stairs that led to the staterooms above.
    Just as well, she supposed. Her virtue might be long gone because of a scoundrel just like him, but her reputation was intact, and she intended to keep it that way. Still, she did have to admit to a certain amount of curiosity about some of the things he’d said, and she decided to ask Bernard at the first opportunity. If there were some rules about British marriage she didn’t know, it was best to find them out now. A girl like her couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

Chapter Four
    T he grand dining room of the Atlantic , a Baroque fantasy of meringuelike plasterwork and faux-marble columns was not only well suited to the formal dinners available for those in first class. It was also, much to Annabel’s relief, the perfect setting for her wedding. Three stories high and capped by a skylight dome of stained glass, the room would lend a suitably cathedrallike air to the ceremony.
    As Bernard escorted her down the grand staircase for dinner, she couldn’t help imagining how it would be when she made this same journey in a cloud of satin and tulle. As she paused with him and her family near the foot of the stairs, waiting for an usher to escort them to their table, she pictured the elaborate bouquets of pink magnolia blossoms as well as the path of rose petals that would pave her way across the royal-blue carpet. Instead of standing beside her as he was now, Bernard would be waiting for her on a dais at the other end of the long, elegant room.
    The round tables would do just fine, she was glad to note. Being bolted down, they could not be moved, and Mama had worried that people would have to crane their necks to see, but Annabel didn’t share her mother’s concern. Knickerbockers would be happy to endure that sort of discomfort on the off chance the New Money bride would trip over her gown or commit some other ghastly faux pas, something they wouldn’t want to miss.
    Annabel had no intention of obliging them. This was her opportunity to cement a place in society for herself and her family, and she was not going to let anything spoil it.
    That thought had barely crossed her mind before she spied the Duke of Scarborough standing about a dozen feet away, and at the sight of his tall, lean body and rakish face, she felt her stomach give a nervous little dip. She hadn’t been mistaken about him, she realized.