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“Name your condition,” he said.
It was her turn to take a deep breath. She seemed worried that he might reject her condition. He was preparing himself for something outlandish, like eloping and disappearing from London forever. Though part of him thought he wouldn’t mind that too much, if that was the case.
“My condition is this,” she said, seemingly trying to choose her words carefully, “we must have a proper betrothal, including the banns.”
Andrew was taken aback. Not because her request was unreasonable. On the contrary, it was perfectly reasonable, if a bit oddly specific. He had anticipated getting a special license, simply for the sake of getting the wedding out of the way. He wondered at her request.
“I know it sounds strange to ask for such a thing,” she said, apparently reading his expression. “But the last thing I want is another scandal. People will begin talking if we rush to get married. Especially since my father is planning to marry me to Lord Axenshire.”
Andrew nodded. She was right, of course. He didn’t care about any scandal she had in her past. Nor did he particularly care about any impending scandal. But if she wanted to prevent further stain to her name, he would not begrudge her that.
“Your request is acceptable,” he said. “I will gladly meet your condition.”
Apparently, some of her rigid posture had been due to her own anxiety, because as soon as he accepted her condition, she relaxed. Andrew moved closer to her, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. As he did so, his senses were heightened by the smell of lavender.
He locked eyes with the woman who would soon be his bride, and he stared into hers. He had noticed how pretty they were before. But only then did he realize that he could stare at them for hours quite happily. Suddenly, he was glad she had accepted his proposal for a new reason, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, looking at him with puzzlement. He noticed that her cheeks were pink, and he scooted back, the trance broken, to keep from making her even more uncomfortable.
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yes, everything is fine.”
Miss Whitworth nodded, folding her hands in her lap.
“Good,” she said uncertainly. “And thank you for accepting my condition.”
Andrew smiled.
“It is my pleasure,” he said. “Thank you for accepting my proposal.”
She nodded again, and they sat in awkward silence for a moment. Andrew realized that she was waiting for some sort of confirmation from him, and likely, for him to leave, so that she and her maid could depart soon after. He rose, tipping his hat to her and giving her a kind smile.
“I will make the arrangements to meet with your father,” he said. “And I will begin the preparations for the banns to be read once I have spoken with him.”
She sighed, and Andrew couldn’t tell if it was with relief or fatigue. But she returned his smile with a little one of her own.
“Very well,” she said, standing to curtsey.
Andrew bowed.
“Have a good afternoon, Miss Whitworth,” he said.My bride,he thought to himself as he turned and walked away.
Chapter Fifteen
Andrew checked his pocket watch for the tenth time. It was late in the evening, and he had sent word to the Viscount Worthingwood hours ago to meet him for drinks at White’s. And yet, Andrew sat alone in the far corner of the club. The viscount was now ten minutes late for their meeting.
Lord Worthingwood had sent back word that he would attend the meeting, so there hadn’t been a miscommunication. Andrew thought it terribly irresponsible of a nobleman to be late.
The one, and only, good thing the late Baron of Elsbrook had taught his son was punctuality. It was a practice that had always served him well, in business and in pleasure. He supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised at the viscount’s tardiness. A man willing to marry off his daughter to an ancient nobleman to fix his financial situation would hardly care about something like timeliness.
Andrew raised his hand to summon a waiter when he noticed another man enter. It was Lord Worthingwood at last, and he looked around for Andrew. Andrew stood and waved to him with one hand, while beckoning for the waiter with the other. The viscount and the waiter reached the table at the same time. Andrew motioned for the viscount to sit while he ordered their drinks.
There was an awkward moment of silence as the men waited for their drinks to be served. Andrew considered letting the viscount know he didn’t appreciate his tardiness. But seeing as he was about to make a big and sudden request, he decided it was best to let it be. Still, he hoped the man might attempt to apologize. But, of course, he did not.
When the drinks arrived, Andrew took a hearty sip of his. The viscount did the same, and Andrew considered what he was going to say. He didn’t want to be in the presence of Lord Worthingwood any longer than was necessary. He already found him distasteful, and there was no point in delaying the reason for calling the meeting.
The viscount continued to drink, but Andrew plunged ahead with what he wanted to say.
“I wish to have your blessing for seeking Miss Whitworth’s hand in marriage,” he said.
