Page 14 of Cora
She wasn’t best pleased about having to share a house with him, but clearly the man was concerned with appearances. Which made his condition of marriage a peculiar one indeed. She was no one’s idea of a trophy wife.
But the dress.
A white wedding gown, symbolizing purity? She didn’t deserve that dress. She’d given herself to the first viable prospect she’d met through the newspaper advertisements. It wasn’t that she’d been promiscuous in the years since. But she was not an untouched virgin and she didn’t like lying.
Wearing white felt like a lie.
Worse, it felt like celebrating a union that did not merit celebration. Their marriage was transactional. Nothing more.
She did not feel that her past affairs were Gideon Wentworth’s business, any more than his were hers. Cora had no intention of explaining herself to anyone, including Lysander, which made the ridiculousness of Wentworth’s demand difficult to explain. Before this morning, she’d planned to show up in her best blue silk poplin, which, to be honest, wasn’t all that good, being several years out of style. To her brothers’ annoyance, she favored rational dress, particularly when riding her bicycle. She hardly owned any proper gowns.
It wasn’t fair. Wentworth didn’t have to pretend to be an unsullied virgin. He simply had to show up at the predetermined date and time.
“You cannot have everything you want, Cora,” Lysander reminded her.
“I know that.”
They were negotiating from a position of weakness. Wentworth had given in on the issue of her dowry without protest, which surprised her, considering the way her father had attempted to bribe acceptance into the aristocracy. It was a lot of money to give up.
She had acquiesced to separate bedchambers over separate houses as a conciliatory gesture. Her only alternative lodging was with Lysander, anyway, until Eryx’s renovations were finished. She hardly enjoyed living here.
“Ladylike comportment must only be required in public,” she said. “In private, I am free to behave as I wish.”
She would not tolerate being ordered about in her own home. Wentworth was the worst kind of bully, but he was about to discover that she was not the same trembling miss he’d terrorized all those years ago.
“He says nothing about my dog?”
“I doubt he knows about Titania. If he did, I’m sure the heartless bastard wouldn’t hesitate to force you to get rid of her.”
Her brother was one to talk, speaking of heartless bastards. Cora whirled, and her eyes flared wide when she caught Lysander bent to one side, scratching Titi behind the ear. He yanked his hand away and glared at her, daring her to say anything. She bit back a smile.
“Put in something vague that ensures I can keep as many pets as I wish.”
“Cora. Be reasonable.”
“I am. I was thinking about getting a Dalmatian. Or possibly a Great Dane. Maybe even a cat or six.”
“Why not add a parrot to your menagerie while you’re at it,” Lysander grumbled. “Or a hyena.”
“Do you think I could get one?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Not if you want to keep Titi alive.”
“Lysander.”
He looked up.
“I was joking.”
“I am so glad you can find humor in this mess.” He bent his head and scribbled something. Cora ceased her nervous pacing and collapsed onto a sofa. Titi hopped into her lap, and she stroked her pet’s fur to calm her racing pulse.
“If you agree to this, and he accepts your final changes, then the happy event shall be held one week henceforth.”
“Oneweek? What about the banns?” A week was far too soon. Panic flooded her.
“Wentworth has secured a special license.” Lysander’s mouth curved into a smile, and for a moment, he didn’t look unhappy. “He seems unexpectedly eager to marry you, Cora.”
There was no possible reason for him to want to hasten this travesty of a wedding. Why, then, did her heart do an odd little flip, and that swooping sensation settle into her belly?
