Page 37 of King of Rogues
Naomi adjusted her shawl, making ready to step out into the cool of the evening. She could only hope that her mother and Monsale settled their plans quickly. Until Kitty returned home, she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink.
A wedding here in London or at Monsale Castle? The town of Deal, Kent wasn’t too far, and she could have her things packed in no time.
That pale green evening gown with the white broderie anglaise on the bodice would be perfect for a wedding dress. Elegant and understated, but still befitting a bride about to become a duchess. I must ask Papa to borrow the family tiara. Or perhaps I should go with the gold gown. Yes, that is a statement piece. Lady Naomi McNeal, Duchess of Monsale.
The gold gown it was.
Naomi gave one last glance around the room, before taking her father’s arm. As they headed toward the front door, she caught a glimpse of Lady Marshall and her daughter talking to one another. She couldn’t quite catch what they were saying, but the angry look on the countess’s face was enough to inform her, that it was a heated conversation.
Well, done, Euphemia, stand up for your heart’s desire. I hope you and Viscount Walsall will be happy together.
Now all Naomi had to do was wait for Monsale to pay her a visit and finally concede defeat. Victory was surely hers for the taking.
Chapter Fifteen
Eight Days to go.
* * *
Naomi was still fully clothed when she woke the following morning. Bright sunlight streamed in the window as she lifted her head from the pillow.
It’s morning. I must have fallen asleep.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sat up, squinting at the elegant French gilded brass and porcelain clock which sat on the mantelpiece. It was well after eight o’clock.
“Why didn’t Mama wake me? She must know I would be keen to hear of any news.”
She slid quickly off the bed and raced to the mirror. Her hair was somewhat askew from sleep, but at least her attire had survived the night without too many creases. It would have to do. There would be time for changing and having her maid set her wayward tresses once she had spoken to her mother. After that, Naomi expected her morning to be filled with wedding preparations. It was all so very exciting.
Kitty was seated at the table when Naomi stepped into the dining room. Her mother lifted her gaze from the morning gazette and scowled.
“Did you sleep in your clothes?”
Naomi sheepishly grinned. “Yes. I was waiting for you to arrive home. Papa said you and Monsale were having urgent discussions. Would that conversation happen to be about me?”
With a wave of her hand, the duchess dismissed the pair of footmen, standing to attention on the other side of the table. As soon as they had left the room, she pulled out the chair next to hers and patted its cushion. “Come and sit here. You and I need to talk.”
Taking a seat Naomi confidently adjusted her skirts. This was a red-letter day. A day which she had been waiting for, for a very long time.
Kitty folded the newspaper and sat with her hands resting gently in her lap. “You are correct in your thinking that Monsale and I had a long conversation last night. He was most concerned that Lady Euphemia Marshall, lady number three, might refuse his suit.”
Naomi nervously straightened her back. “I see.”
“And he was correct.”
A sigh of relief escaped Naomi’s lips. “Oh, thank god for that,” she muttered.
“But…”
She froze, not liking that word.
“Monsale spoke to Lady Euphemia in the garden and addressed her concerns. She was still uncertain, but then Lady Marshall, and Monsale talked to her once more. Euphemia finally came to see sense and has agreed to marry Monsale. His lands and title will now be safe. He asked that I extend to you his kind regards and deepest gratitude for your efforts with his selection of a bride.”
It took some time for Naomi’s brain to process her mother’s words. They kept getting jumbled up and tripping over one another. Eventually, she was able to put them into some semblance of order. Monsale. Bride. Euphemia.
He had chosen Lady Euphemia to be his wife.
“Naomi?”
