This wasn’t so bad. He could lie here forever. He had lived a good life up until this point, and he would enjoy this resting place after he died.
If the remaining fifty years of his life were ruined by an unattractive or unreasonable wife, he would still have this place at the end of it. His mother could keep that blasted smile on her face. Plenty of men endured arranged marriages. They weren’t really in vogue anymore, but plenty of men in thepasthad had help finding a wife. He wasn’t the first.
“Blast you, Sally Duncan,” he muttered, even though Duncan was no longer her name. She had spoiled him. He’d thought he could find another wealthy woman with eyes that sparked as bright as her temper. But he hadn’t. And he highly doubted his parents were able to succeed where he had failed.
His wife would be plain. That was a guarantee. For no woman of good fortuneandgood looks would need to be rushed to the altar.
He could live with that, but she would also likely be slow-witted or cantankerous.
So a dull, angry companion was to be his future. That was the minimum. On top of that, she could have any number of problems. Slurpy eating? Loud breathing? Missing teeth? She could be crippled, like Sally’s sister had been, and she would go about the house walking with a noisy limp. Clump-bump. Clump-bump.
Would he have to listen to clump-bump for the rest of his life?
He took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. He was to be a baron, and first and foremost was his duty to preserve the Bridgewater title. Even if she were crippled, he was an ingrate for thinking a woman who struggled to walk would be a trial forhim.
“Who is Sally Duncan?” a soft voice asked above him.
Matthew’s eyes flew open. A young girl was bent over, staring at him. He sat up, nearly bumping her head with his own.
She straightened and stepped back.
He glanced around the churchyard. What neglectful governess or parent had let her roam all alone? Had she snuck out of church, just as he had? He didn’t recognize her, but his parish was a popular one and he didn’t know every family. “Who are you?” It was a rude question, but she wasn’t exactly abiding by custom either.
She tipped her head to one side. Only then did he notice her dark brown hair was pinned up. He’d thought, based on her child-like appearance, it should still be down in braids. How old was she? “Who is Sally Duncan?” she asked again.
He waved his hand to his side. Sally didn’t matter anymore. “A tradeswoman.”
“And what does she trade?”
“Fiancés, among other things.”
Her deep brown eyes widened. “There is a trade for that?”
There must be, for his parents had bargained their way to a match for him. “For some people.”
She wrinkled her nose and nodded her head. “Unlucky ones.”
He laughed. “You have that right.”
“It would be unnatural, wouldn’t it? To come by a fiancé by trade. People shouldn’t be traded. Nothing good could come of such an arrangement, I should think.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you.”
She put a finger to the side of her mouth. “I think two people should come to know each other naturally, over the course of time. And then—if they like each other—only then should they marry.”
He hefted himself to his feet. It was time he went back into the chapel. His mother had most likely chewed all of her fingernails through her gloves by now. He would have to save lying in this spot forafterhe died. “Well, you are young yet.”
She jutted her chin out. “I’m not so young.”
He started back toward the church and she followed. “How old are you?” It was another impertinent question. Perhaps when one is about to marry someone he has never met, he becomes impertinent.
She threw her shoulders back as if it would make her taller. “Seventeen.”
Seventeen? This little girl was seventeen? That was his fiancée's age. Was he to marry a child like this one? Sally had only been a few years older, but she had seemed far more mature than this child before him. Matthew tipped his head to one side. A thought—small, but persistent—crept into his brain.
He didn’t know this girl. He didn’t know Lucy Bateman. Lucy Bateman was seventeen; this young lady was seventeen. She couldn’t be…
Matthew coughed. “You never told me your name.”
