Page 36 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“Frannie, was it like this for you on your wedding day?” Agnes turned to Frances, seeking solace in her friend’s experience.

“Among other emotions,” Frances answered.

“Oh dear,” Agnes sighed, the reality of Frances’s words doing little to ease her nervous anticipation.

“You might have employed a gentle fib to soothe her worries, Frannie,” Emma chided gently, her gaze flitting between the two.

“Such efforts would have been in vain, I’m afraid,” Frances admitted with a knowing look. “And that, my dear, is precisely why I spared us the attempt,” she added, understanding all too well the futility of trying to mask the inherent anxieties of a wedding day.

Finding it impossible to remain still, Agnes drifted toward the window, seeking a distraction from her spiraling thoughts. What met her gaze was entirely unexpected—a gathering crowd outside their residence, their numbers swelling with each passing moment.

“Are those additional guests?” Agnes inquired, peering out the window with growing apprehension. The prospect of her motheraltering their plans last minute, opting for a larger ceremony than initially agreed upon, sent a wave of panic through her.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Emma’s response had a mixture of surprise and concern.

“Heard what exactly?” Agnes pressed, her curiosity piqued.

Emma hesitated before revealing, “There’s a fresh piece of gossip circulating through Town—that the wedding has been called off, and that the Marquess has withdrawn his suit following the scandal.”

“So, they’ve congregated to verify the authenticity of this news themselves, as a portion of society remains skeptical about the ceremony proceeding,” she explained, shedding light on the unexpected assembly outside.

“It appears Lady Kirkland is the architect behind this latest tale,” Frances interjected, her tone betraying neither shock nor amusement at the matron’s audacity.

Given their last unpleasant encounter with Lady Kirkland, Agnes felt a resigned sense of inevitability that she would seek to further tarnish their reputations.

“You’ve kept this development concerning Lady Kirkland from me, Frannie?” Emma sounded both affronted and envious. “And how is it that you always seem privy to the most intriguing tidbits?” she added, her voice laced with playful indignation.

“I might attribute it to having an abundance of idle time,” Frances replied with a nonchalant shrug, downplaying her knack for unearthing gossip.

“Or perhaps it’s a case of having more resourceful servants adept at gathering intelligence,” Emma retorted with a light-hearted laugh.

As much as Agnes wished to partake in their levity, the gravity of the situation and the impending ceremony held her captive to a carousel of anxious thoughts?—

“It’s time,” Caroline’s voice, firm yet gentle, interrupted the trio’s conversation as she re-entered the room. Having been preoccupied with final preparations downstairs, her return marked the moment of truth.

“They’re all assembled and await your presence, my dear,” her mother informed her.

Frances and Emma got to their feet, and Agnes marveled at how hers were able to carry her down the stairs in her anxiety.

By the doorway to the drawing room, Theodore’s sisters stood, their pink dresses adding a splash of color to the occasion. “You look beautiful, Agnes,” Harriet said, her compliment genuine and warm, prompting a grateful smile from Agnes. The lump in her throat grew, emotions swirling as she braced herself for the ceremony ahead.

Her mother’s eyes mirrored her own feelings—pride mixed with the poignant realization of the moment’s significance. Inside the drawing room, a small assembly awaited: her father, brothers, Theodore’s solicitor, the family butler, and, of course, Theodore himself. Preston stood by as his witness, accompanied by another gentleman Agnes assumed was associated with Theodore’s legal affairs.

The vicar’s sermon, brief as it was, seemed to stretch into infinity, marking the solemnity and gravity of their union. The exchange of vows, however, was met with cheers and applause, a celebration of their commitment witnessed by those dearest to them. A modest wedding breakfast was set to follow, a prelude to their imminent departure for Essex.

As Emma’s parents offered their congratulations, Agnes couldn’t help but notice Theodore’s apparent preoccupation. His attention flitted across the room, as if in search of someone or something. “Are you expecting someone?” she inquired, curiosity getting the better of her amid the festivities.

“Just observing the count of those we’ve managed to persuade of our genuine intentions,” he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice, before escorting her back to her parents.

“I’ll ensure the carriage is prepared for our departure,” Theodore informed her, excusing himself momentarily. Agnes understood this as her opportunity to bid a heartfelt farewell to her family, the thought of which she had been dreading.

This was the moment she had been dreading—bidding her family farewell.

“Where are the boys?” Agnes inquired, her voice trembling slightly as she fought back the tears threatening to breach her composure.

“They’re awaiting you in the drawing room,” Caroline informed her, her own voice laced with emotion.

Led by her parents, Agnes made her way to where her brothers were gathered. She could overhear Harry’s explanation to George as they entered. “I told you, she’s leaving now that she’s wed,” he was saying, a note of finality in his voice that tugged at Agnes’s heartstrings.

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