Page 15 of Cora
No. This was about the Wilder & Co.’s dire condition, not about desire.
A business transaction. Nothing more.
A grin tugged at her lips. “Mr. Wentworth might have to cave on the color of my dress. A week is nowhere near enough time to have one made.”
The blistering glare of disbelief Lysander gave her could have stripped paint off the wall.
* * *
Cora had forgottenthat when one was in possession of enough money, anything was possible. Including the creation of the most extravagant and absurdly expensive white wedding gown by an army of beleaguered seamstresses ever created on short notice.
“How are we, on one hand ruined, and on the other able to afford this extravagance?” she demanded on their return trip from the modiste’s. A fancy one, of course. She assumed the lady who owned the shop dressed Lysander’s paramours, not that she was inclined to inquire.
“It’s a wedding gift. I’m a duke, in case you’d forgotten.”
“How could I possibly forget when you remind me at every opportunity?”
“I do not.”
“Do so.”
He heaved a sigh. “Do you have the slightest idea how glad I will be to have you out of my house and at long last properly married? Even if it is to a scoundrel?”
“Not nearly as glad as I will be to be gone.”
There was no heat in her tone. She was simply exhausted from living with Lysander and his moods and his pompous self-regard. They were family, and they loved each other, but no house in England was large enough for the two of them to share comfortably, which made her wonder how well she was going to get along with Gideon Wentworth. She did not have high hopes.
“Listen.”
Cora lifted her chin.
“I know I haven’t been easy company these past several weeks.”
“I don’t need your advice on every single detail of my wedding. When I ask for your advice, then I want your opinion.” He meant well, but Lysander had mortified them both over dinner last night when he attempted to explain what to expect on her wedding night. She appreciated his attempt to educate her about marital relations, but she already knew everything she needed to—which was a problem, one she could not share with him.
He cleared his throat. “I am not saying this as criticism. I would be derelict in my duty if I didn’t tell you that if you decided not to go through with this wedding, I’d support you. Even if you left him standing at the altar. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for the sake of Eryx’s pride. I would see that the lot of you are taken care of.”
Moved, she reached across the leather seat and tucked her gloved hand into his. “That’s what family does, Lysander. We pull together when times are hard. We celebrate the good times together, too. Even when life is hard, there is always something to celebrate. Annalise and Eryx’s baby, for instance.”
He squeezed her hand and let go. The subject of babies made him squirm. “You’re always welcome to come back to Gryphon Manor. No matter why or when.”
“Thank you, Zander.” She kept her gaze fixed upon the city outside the carriage window. Shadowy figures hunched in doorways seeking shelter from the blustering February winter. The money he’d spent on a dress she would wear for a single day could have fed hundreds of people, and yet that princely sum would be a drop in the bucket of the unmet need.
“I need to do this,” she said softly. “I have been languishing at Eryx’s home for too long. Hiding from the world. It’s past time I found my own way.”
He looked at her askance and bounced his knee, an old childhood habit.
“Gideon Wentworth was the one who prevented me from joining Society properly. Now he will be the one to return me to it. I am of half a mind to find out what I’ve been missing all these years.”
“Not much.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve never been an outsider.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Cora.”
There was no heat in his words, either, only a note of resignation that made her heart ache.
“I am willing to marry him, Lysander, because I think I am owed an apology. One way or another, I intend to make him regret what he did to me.”
