Page 8 of Miss Harvey's Horribly Lovable Fiancé
He must have answers. After all, he had proposed. He must feel…passionately for her.
But she hoped his was more than desire. More than fascination with their exchange of witticisms. Marriage had to be built on more than that.
True love was not a game, a sparring match, a competition. It required more than wit or dash or style.
Esme knew it to be so. Her parents were the models of such a union. And to perfect herself for such a union, Esme must clear the air of her problems with her cousin. Esme had always been too abrasive to Fifi. Too interested in showing Fifi that she could be her equal. Such actions were so infantile. She would marry—if she did marry—with amends to those whom she’d hurt in the past.
That would be a good beginning. To speak as a woman. Responsible, caring.
First, she’d do it with Fifi.
Then Northington.
* * *
Refreshments were servedin the salon for those who’d arrived and Esme checked the doorway one more time.
Where was he?
“I shall be pleased to meet him,” Willa Sheffield confided to her with a hearty smile. “You never told me you’d met him. Never wrote a word until two weeks ago.”
Willa was one of her closest friends from school. The daughter of the Earl de Courcy, Willa loved racing her father’s prize stallions and reading the gothic novels (titillating and yes, forbidden) of Eliza Parsons. Those two passions matched Esme’s and had always provided the basis of their camaraderie.
“I apologize for that, Wills. But the truth is, I did not know we would wed. I dared not think it. He seemed so far above me.”So much so that my mother wanted another man for me because she thought a marquess too high in the instep for the daughter of a viscount.
Willa blinked in confusion. “But did you not write that you met him months ago?”
“During Christmas Season in London.”
“I see. And you fell in love at once?”
“Come over here, will you?” She dared not reveal how she’d been captivated by him so quickly. Was he like so many other men who thought a few good words and a seductive smile could lure a virgin out of her stockings? Was he a rogue at heart? Like his father. “I do not wish others to overhear us. He and I have met any number of times. At proper parties. But I never knew when he would pop up. Or where. He is mysterious that way. So when I didn’t see him after he asked for my hand, I had no idea where he was or what to think. Not until he appeared here two weeks ago with a special license did I know he meant to follow through.”
Willa’s hazel eyes faceted in sympathy. “Oh, my dear.”
Her pity made Esme swallow her frustration. “I’ve no idea why he disappeared or where he was.”
“But you should ask. Mustn’t you?” Willa was in earnest. As an earl’s daughter, she had often encouraged Esme to be bold. Esme had treasured her for it, too. “He is to be your husband. You have a right to know.”
Willa was assertive. And why not? She was strikingly beautiful with features fine as a Renaissance lady. With bright hazel eyes and a halo of ebony curls, she had a heart-shaped face and delicate black brows. Her family were of Norman French derivation and cousins to the royal Valois. Last July, her older half-sister had married a French comte who had reclaimed his estate near Amboise on the Loire. After Napoleon’s exile, Willa and her father had gone to visit them. Like her sire, Willa was considered an expert in French family histories of Normandy and La Flèche.
“You’re right.” She would ask him. Whenever he appeared, she would ask not only where he’d been, but also why he was delayed.
Her pride was at stake. So was the future of her relationship with him. She loved him or so she had thought. But did she know what love was? Aside from her parents’ obvious joy in each other, she had no other examples. Her cousin Fiona’s parents were the worst example. Add to that the problems she understood Northington’s parents had in their marriage. His father was a notorious n’er-do-well with drinking and mistresses, a profligate with money and neglectful of his estate. What did Northington know of the joys and challenges of a happily married couple?
She bore the gathering as long as possible and made her excuses to Willa and her mother. She had to get away. To ponder the future.
Safely out of sight, she ran for the stairs to her rooms.
There, she shot the bolt in the door. She needed solitude. Time. Her intentions for her future with her husband were sound. She wished to marry and to make their union a serene and loving one. And for that to occur…
She must not only want him. His kisses. His caresses. His laughter and approbation.
She had to trust him.
Chapter 3
Northington spurred his horse ahead of his traveling coach.
