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He took a seat behind his desk, a cheery fire already glowing in the hearth to ward off the morning chill. Withdrawing a quill, he began to draft a notice for theTimesand theCourierto be published after their wedding. And as soon as it was a reasonable hour, he’d take his carriage to Hanover Square, to St. George’s to talk to a curate about the ceremony.
Certainly after that they would return to his home for the wedding breakfast, which reminded him that it was pertinent to confer with his housekeeper posthaste.
Rowles rang for his housekeeper, his mind reviewing all the necessary tasks to complete.
Next, he sent a missive to his solicitor to request a meeting later today. Marriage articles would need to be drawn up and agreed upon. He had no concerns that his terms would be satisfactory. A wry grin tipped his lips. Rather, he had the suspicion that Joan would object to such a large settlement, but he refused to anything less. No, he had already given her his heart, so worldly goods seemed trivial in comparison.
“Your Grace?” Mrs. Adams curtsied as she entered his study.
Rowles nodded. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Adams. I have news that will require some attention from our staff, and I thought it best to meet with you first.”
“I’m honored, Your Grace. How may I be of service?” she inquired, her mobcap barely restraining her wiry gray curls as she nodded.
“Won’t you sit?” Rowles signaled to a chair.
She said her thanks and took a seat, her keen eyes watchful and waiting. It was a blessing to have such a competent staff.
“Last night, Lady Joan Morgan accepted my offer of marriage.”
Gasping, Mrs. Adams clapped her hands together. “What wonderful news, Your Grace!”
“Thank you,” Rowles returned. “And I’m sure you understand the upcoming events that need your attention.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I’ll notify the staff to prepare the duchess’s rooms—” She paused, and then met his look with a hesitant one of her own. “Forgive me, Your Grace. But, which rooms would you like to prepare for the new duchess? I admit I’m not certain if you’d wish me to ready your mother’s previous rooms or others?” she asked with a cautious tone.
Rowles nodded. His mother had moved from the original suite that connected with the duke’s rooms. But she’d modified her new rooms to be even grander than her former ones. Since then, the staff had referred to her rooms as those worthy of the title. “Thank you for your considerate insight. My mother will not be returning for some time. Prepare the one that adjoins mine. I suspect it will need some attention.”
“Of course, Your Grace. We will begin immediately,” she agreed. “And a wedding breakfast, I assume?”
“Yes. I suspect the new duchess will wish to have some input on the festivities, so I shall introduce you later this week.”
“I look forward to meeting her, Your Grace,” Mrs. Adams said with a tone of reverence. “I will see that the new duchess is put at ease as much as I am able. The staff will make every effort to please her, Your Grace.”
“I believe you, Mrs. Adams. For now, that will be all.” He looked to the clock. “Please have a footman bring my carriage around. I need to go to Hanover Square.”
“Of course. Yes, Your Grace.” She stood and curtsied again, then took her leave.
Rowles nodded to himself, pleased with all the tasks he had addressed. He set his quill to the side and stood. Next would be the securing of a date, finding a curate to oversee the marriage, and arranging for the banns to be read.
As he strode to the front of his home, he calculated when the wedding would take place. He stepped into the carriage and leaned back against the soft velvet upholstery. It was Thursday, so the first banns would be read in three days’ time. The reading was a mere formality, but an important one. It was an announcement, a declaration of intent. He shook his head in wonder. The gossip mill would certainly get word out before Sunday, but when the banns were declared to the whole parish, asking for any impediments to their marriage, such a statement made the couple as official as they could be without an actual wedding.
The banns would need to be read two more times before they could marry, so that would mean the wedding could take place the Monday after the final reading, at eight in the morning if they wished.
And he did wish.
If it didn’t seem suspect to have a hasty marriage, he would direct his driver to Doctors’ Commons to procure a special license so they could be married tomorrow. But as much as his impatient heart wished for it, he would gladly wait the weeks needed to make her officially his wife, because in the end that kept her reputation as clean as possible.
He could do that for her.
He would do that for her.
The carriage rolled to a stop before St. George’s Church, and due to the early hour, the square was quite empty and the church reverently silent as he walked through the open doors. Stained glass filtered the sunlight into prisms of color.
“May I be of assistance?” An older man in a curate’s robes approached him with a kind expression.
“Indeed you may,” Rowles answered, and in short work, he’d arranged for the banns to be read and for the wedding time on the first Monday after the final reading. He thanked the curate and returned to his carriage, the most important errand of the day accomplished.
Unfortunately, the time of the wedding was at ten in the morning, instead of eight as he’d originally hoped. But as the carriage took him home, he considered that Joan might appreciate a few extra hours of preparation.
