Page 38 of King of Rogues
“When is the wedding?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
“They are to be married at Monsale Castle in three days. Monsale would have pushed for an earlier date, but Lady Marshall insisted on having time to get her daughter’s trousseau put together. It will be a small affair, but I am pleased to say that we have all been invited,” replied Kitty.
Naomi had heard mention of people claiming they had been struck numb with shock, but she hadn’t ever thought such a thing could happen to her. Her whole body had lost all sense of feeling. It was a wonder she was still able to breathe.
When Kitty lay a hand over hers, she didn’t feel it. Her eyes tracked the movement, but it seemed like watching a play from a distance. None of it was real.
“Are you alright Naomi?”
“I…I don’t know.”
The odd sensation of numbness disappeared as a wave of despair crashed over her. Monsale was getting married. To another woman. Those words rolled over and over in her mind.
And then the tears came, floods of them. All her hopes and dreams were crushed to dust.
“Oh, you silly girl. What have you done?” whispered Kitty.
She pushed away her mother’s attempt to console her and got to her feet. Desperate sobs of heartache echoed in the quiet space. “Monsale. No.”
“You didn’t want to be on the list. Naomi, you left him with no other choice. His families fortune and the Monsale title were in peril, he had to choose one of them.”
“No. No, he didn’t. He could have finally accepted that he and I were meant to be together. That our love was worth taking the risk. But he was a bloody coward. I can’t believe he would condemn himself to a loveless union rather than open his heart to me.”
Naomi wrapped her arms about herself, hugging tight. This had always been a game of chance, and the stakes set high. She had thought she knew which way the dice were going to land. Certain that they were loaded in her favor, Naomi had gambled everything.
And lost.
Chapter Sixteen
Eight Days to go.
* * *
With his wedding only a matter of days away, Monsale had to avail himself of a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. An expensive privilege offered to only a few such as the nobility.
On his way home from Doctors’ Common, Monsale stopped by the home of George and Jane Hawkins in Coal Yard Lane. The pregnant Jane and her rounded baby belly greeted him at the door.
“Your grace, what a lovely surprise. Come in.”
As he stepped through the front door into the cozy, old home, Jane called upstairs to her husband. “George, Monsale is here.”
The thud of heavy boots on the narrow, oak stairs announced the arrival of the Honorable George Hawkins. “Good morning. You are up and about early. It’s just past eleven.”
Monsale ignored the remark about his habit of being a late riser. He had never been an early bird. Late the previous night he had sent word to his friends of his impending marriage and an invitation to the wedding at Monsale Castle.
“Lots to do before the wedding. I had assumed that a chap just turned up and stood in front of the minister, said yes a few times, and that was it,” he replied.
He accepted a congratulatory kiss on the cheek from Jane. “I hope you will be very happy.”
They followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen which was situated at the rear of the house. The house overlooked a small, well-tended plot of land filled with vegetables and raised herb beds. Monsale’s gaze roamed appreciatively over the garden as he pulled out a chair and sat.
“I must bring you some of my rose bushes to plant along the border. Make things look pretty.”
Jane and George exchanged a look of surprise. Monsale simply chuckled. “I am about to become a married man; I need to be able to talk about these things.”
“May I offer you a cup of tea or a slice of cake?” asked Jane.
“I think that would possibly be a bridge too far for the impending bachelor, my love. I think a whisky might be more welcome,” said George.
