Page 77 of Who Wants to Marry a Duke
“Olivia isnotsentimental, is she?” Gwyn asked her brother.
Thorn chuckled. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
Olivia had an odd feeling the twins were poking fun at her. But she didn’t mind. She was finally about to gain siblings who teased her. And stood up for her. And included her in all their schemes.
Although it didn’t make up for Thorn not being able to tell her he loved her, it still made up for a lot.
Chapter Sixteen
Thorn’s pleasure at having gained Olivia’s hand began to dim the longer his fiancée, his sister, and his future mother-in-law spent at dinner discussing his upcoming nuptials. Actually, his pleasure was becoming more of a panic.
Part of it had to do with the transformation Olivia had made while planning their wedding. She’d become as excited about it as the other two women. He’d expected that of his sister and Lady Norley, but not of Olivia, who didn’t seem to have a girlish bone in her body. Why should she care, when their marriage would be more a way to satisfy their mutual desires than any sort of . . . romantic union? It was incomprehensible.
Yet here she was with the other two, discussing who would be her bridesmaids, which foods they should serve at the wedding breakfast, and what she should wear. Personally, he’d prefer she wore nothing, but he suspected her mother wouldn’t approve of such depravity. Though Olivia might.
He smiled a little at the thought.
Gwyn pounced on him. “So you agree with me and Olivia.”
Damn. They wanted his opinion. He didn’t have one. He just wanted to get the wedding over with so he could get right to the wedding night. Because every time he thought about the solemnity of wedding vows, a strange tightness gripped his chest. He wasn’t ready.
He wasn’t worthy.
Nonsense. Worthiness wasn’t an issue.
“Agree with you about what?” Thorn asked.
Olivia took up the fight. “Gwyn and I think it’s always better to have a head covering for a wedding in church, and a silk bonnet with ribbons and lace would be best.” She cast her stepmother a pitying glance. “Mama thinks I should just wear orange blossoms in my hair.”
That his fiancée and his twin already got along well pleased Thorn enormously, but there was such a thing as getting alongtoowell. He disliked being left out of the plans entirely.
“Since we’renotmarrying in a church,” he said, “I don’t see that it matters. We’re marrying at Rosethorn by special license, which I will—”
“Special license!” Lady Norley exclaimed. “That would be wonderful, Your Grace. And very kind of you.”
Ah, he had an unexpected ally in Lady Norley. “Yes, by special license, so we can marry as soon as we please wherever we please. And we’re only inviting family. God knows my family alone is large enough to fill the dining room, but we can squeeze a number of others in there from your own family.”
“It sounds as if you’ve made many of the decisions on your own already, without consulting your fiancée,” Olivia said archly.
Bloody hell. “You did say that if the dukes of Thorn-stock had all been married here, you wouldn’t want to break with tradition. Why, did you really want to marry in a church—have the banns read for three weeks and all that?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “But I’d like to keep the possibility open, if you don’t mind. And it might take me three weeks to get a gown made up that’s suitable.”
“I’m sure my husband would prefer that she marry in our parish church, Your Grace,” Lady Norley added. “He’s friendly with the local vicar, you see, who comes to hunt on our land sometimes. But all you need to say is ‘special license,’ and I imagine he will come around to your way of thinking.”
Thorn frowned. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I’ve yet to meet Olivia’s father.” God, he hadn’t even met his future father-in-law, the man whose blessing he would prefer to have for the union. This was moving almost as fast as the night he’d compromised Olivia and been caught by her stepmother.
It was better not to think about that too much—the fact that he was about to be leg-shackled, priest-linked, noosed . . . and every other slang term for a man entering the parson’s mouse trap without considering the consequences.
In any case, he’d had enough of wedding plans. He still had to finish writing the final scene of the play, which he’d figured out this morning while waiting for Olivia to wake up. That would take him a few hours, no doubt. Then all he had to do was keep silent about his authorship of the plays until this last one was performed and published. After that, he could give it up. He could, couldn’t he? Because if he told Olivia the truth about it . . .
No, that was unthinkable.
He rose. “Ladies, feel free to continue your discussion here or in the drawing room, whichever you find more comfortable. I have work to do before tomorrow’s journey, so I must absent myself. I’m happy with whatever you decide, be it a church wedding, a ceremony here in our chapel, or a ceremony in the Norley home. Just let me know in the morning if I need to obtain a special license. Good night.”
He left the dining room and headed for his study, but he’d barely entered the hallway when Olivia came hurrying out.
“Did you mean what you said about being happy with whatever we decide?” she asked.
