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annoyance grows…
    “Geoffrey…darling…tell me,” she said in a low voice, turning her head up so that her face was not far from his. “If this terrible tragedy had not happened, would you have asked me to marry you?”
    He stared down into her pixyish face with the wide green eyes, the straight little nose, the sweet kiss of a mouth, all surrounded by a bounty of thick blond hair cut into the latest mode of short riotous curls, and decided any resentment played no part here and it would do no harm to tell her he was more certain of this question than he’d been for some time. “Yes, I rather think so.”
    “Oh, darling! You have made me so happy.”
    “I—but… Have you forgotten…?”
    “You love me, not her!”
    He stared down at her, a bit confused.
    “We must make the most of what must be. I understand. You will marry that Hamilton girl, and I will marry Aldford. I shall be able to bear it, knowing that you love me, that you want me. We will have an affair, passionate and wonderful, our little secret that makes everything else endurable. Everyone takes lovers. Even my mama.” She gave a tiny smile. “Discreetly, of course.”
    Geoffrey’s mouth moved, but no sound came forth. For a moment he was tempted to laugh. He would never have guessed there were so many young ladies in London who knew so much of the realities of marriage beds, in or out of them, but then again he had to acknowledge that the pursuit of a husband was paramount in the minds of most females he had known. Perhaps the topics of bedroom affairs and cheating spouses had become as au courant for young ladies as was the delightfully shocking wetted underthings that drew attention to the forms beneath their gowns.
    He tried to bring his thoughts back into order, only to find his head felt as if it were spinning. An affair? He was no puritan, but the idea of immediately abandoning any marriage vows made him scowl. Truth be told, not least because he’d been unsure of marrying Jacqueline—and now he was unsure he wanted her even as a mistress.
    She slanted into him now, and his arms came up to surround her automatically. Had he loved her once? Did he still, to any degree? She was often charming, and clever, and always lovely. What if Alessandra and he found no accord? What if his bride sooner or later asked for a divorce? Or, perhaps worse, what if she never wanted one, no matter how much they clashed? Would a beautiful lover bring him contentment on the side? Had not he and Alessandra agreed they might take lovers?
    He found he did not speak, did not disabuse Jacqueline of the idea that they had some form of a future together. She leaned deeper into him, lips poised for  a kiss, but he stood and took up her hand, planting a kiss there instead. 
    It was not until he was out on the street, about to take up the reins of his curricle, that it suddenly struck him he had, more or less, agreed to break his vows even before he made them.
    There was a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. He ought to be pleased with a task better done than anticipated, but he drove away feeling unsettled and a bit unclean.
     

Chapter 5
     
    The next night, after the bridal party had all shared a rather formal dinner, Emmeline slipped into her sister’s room. “I wanted to talk with you alone,” she said as her younger sister raised an inquiring face to see who had entered without bothering to knock.
    “Oh?”
    “I see you are putting the final stitches on the gown.” They had found some minor repairs needed to be done to the dress Emmeline had worn for her wedding, and Emmeline had clucked a little over how her once pale yellow best gown had darkened in but a few years—but all agreed the lace and satin would do.
    “I want to look well tomorrow. Imagine me, a June bride,” Alessandra said, her cheeks pinkening just a little at the renewed thought that tomorrow she was to be married. What an incredible thought. Her marriage had not been even a