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She stood up. “I understand what you’ve told me, Father. Now I need to bathe and dress. I wouldn’t want to anger my betrothed by being late on my wedding day.”
Geoffrey ignored her sarcasm. “Of course not. I will see you downstairs in two hours.”
Alex closed the door behind him, feeling more alone than ever. It suddenly occurred to her that she wasn’t sure exactly what Drake’s plans were after the wedding. Since, during their few terse exchanges over the last few days, he had made no mention of the need for her to pack or ready herself in any way, it was possible that he meant to leave her behind here in York when he returned to England.
Well, that suited her just fine, the independent streak in her cried out. To hell with being a dutiful wife. She would remain in York, unavailable to men and therefore unencumbered by the demands society made on unmarried women. She would be free to sail her skiff, to make her own rules, to live her own life.
To be alone.
An undefinable ache filled her heart at the finality of the thought. Always she had dreamed, planned, anticipated the very life that now awaited her. So why did she feel so empty as the time to realize her dream drew near?
She pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids, sat down at the edge of her bed. Today, just after noon, in a quiet ceremony at the governor’s mansion, she would become Drake’s wife.
What was he thinking now? Was he angry, resentful? Did he loathe her for what had been forced upon him? Or was he, like her, confused and uncertain, wondering what fate had in store for them?
A soft knock at the door of her bedchamber announced the arrival of Alex’s bath. In a few short hours she would have her answers.
Drake stood unmoving as Smitty tied the silk cravat about his neck. The stark whiteness of the material richly complemented the dark elegance of Drake’s formal waistcoat and pantaloons and perfectly matched the crisp frilled shirt.
Once through, Smitty stepped back to admire his handiwork.
“Flawless, if I must say so myself, Captain,” he declared, with a flourish.
Drake gave him a searching look. “The attire or the bridegroom, Smitty?”
“Both.” Smitty was not put off by his captain’s foul mood, for he knew what caused it, and it was time that the problem was addressed. Pausing only to firmly close the cabin door, he turned back to Drake’s
scowl.
“Why do I get the distinct feeling that a lecture is about to be delivered, Smitty?”
Smitty shook his head. “No lecture, my lord. Just a talk between old friends.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear what you have to say.”
Smitty smiled. “You are angry that today is your wedding day.”
Drake gave a disgusted snort. “A brilliant deduction, my friend. You need not have closed the door for such a grand proclamation.”
“Did you expect never to marry?”
“Of course I expected to marry. Someday.”
“So you are angry that you are being forced to marry now, against your will?”
“I am not being forced to do anything,” Drake shot back.
“Ah, that’s right. You are doing this for your family.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Drake gave Smitty a suspicious look, wondering where all this was leading.
“Then you should be proud—unless, of course, Lady Alexandria possesses some horrid quirk that I know nothing about and that would make her an unsuitable wife?” He waited.
“You know damn well that there is nothing unsuitable about Alexandria.”
Smitty nodded. “So you are marrying a perfectly acceptable young woman for only the most admirable reasons and of your own free will.” He paused, considering. “Actually there is no earthly reason for your foul humor, is there?” When Drake did not answer, he continued. “Unless you have some strong feelings for your wife-to-be. Now, based on your experience and your opinion of women, that would be a problem. To give this woman your name is most magnanimous of you, but to give her your heart… that would be an entirely different matter.”
“Shut up, Smitty.” Drake had heard enough.
