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Andrew looked down at her, surprised she had noticed his distraction. But her gaze was not mocking, and lines of what he thought might be worry had appeared at the corners of her lips. He knew then that she was indeed thinking about their wedding, just as he was.
“Oh,” he said, “I suppose I am merely adjusting to the idea of having a wife soon.”
Miss Whitworth sighed and nodded.
“I trust you will keep your word. But it still feels strange to me to be marrying a man I don’t even know,” she said quietly.
Andrew gave her a charming grin.
“Well, we must remedy that,” he said. “Let us start by how we address each other. I do not believe we will ever learn to be comfortable with one another if we forever address each other so formally. Thus, I would like you to call me Andrew from now on.”
His fiancée nodded slowly. He could see a certain wariness in her eyes, but her smile and nod told of something more, which he couldn’t identify. He wondered if she was still trying to discern whether he had any other reason for marrying her than those he had disclosed.
“Very well . . . Andrew,” she said, testing his name, as though it felt strange on her tongue. “And you may call me Rowena.”
Andrew nodded, smiling again. It wasn’t until she spoke her name that he realized how pretty and unusual it was.
“Rowena,” he said in much the same testing way that she had said his. “There, doesn’t that feel better already?”
Rowena sighed and nodded.
“About as well as a suddenly arranged marriage can feel, I suppose,” she said.
Andrew nodded. He appreciated that Rowena would always speak her mind, but without drama or aggression.
“I understand it’s all very sudden,” he said. “But I can assure you that, just as I promised, you will have everything you could ever need or want. I will do my best to make you as comfortable and content as possible as my wife.”
Rowena nodded again. He glimpsed sadness in her eyes, and it occurred to him that she might have hoped to marry for love. Because he had always been against the idea of marriage, he had never considered falling in love with any woman. He reminded himself that Rowena might very well wish she could have married a man she loved.
“I feel we could become good friends,” he offered, feeling the impulse to cheer her. “I believe we have enough in common to have wonderful conversations and to find things that we both enjoy doing.”
Slowly, Rowena smiled. It seemed that, despite her reservations, she liked the idea of them forming a friendship.
“Time will tell, won’t it?” she asked.
Andrew nodded.
“Certainly,” he said.
They continued in silence once more, but the previous tension seemed to be slowly dissolving. He looked around at the trees lining the path where they were walking, and the blossoming flowers in the beds scattered intermittently among the green lawns. Yes, it was indeed a lovely day, and he was glad he had thought to invite Rowena to come out. He suddenly realized, though his mother was clearly angry with him, how relieved he felt to have the weight of finding a bride lifted from his shoulders.
As they neared the end of their walk and prepared to take a shortcut back to the park entrance, they suddenly spotted Lady Viola and her mother walking toward them. Andrew stiffened, his pace slowing.
Rowena turned to him, her brows knitting.
“Shall we turn around and take a different route, pretend we haven’t seen them?” she whispered, apparently sensing his sudden unease.
“It’s too late. Here they come,” he whispered back, tucking Rowena’s arm in his even more firmly than before.
“Good day, Lord Elsbrook,” Lady Kinswood said, coming up to them, smiling and curtseying to Andrew, who noted with some surprise that she didn’t seem especially angry. Wasn’t she bothered that he had rejected her daughter in favor of asking the spinster Rowena Whitworth to marry him? But he was glad to see that at least one person involved in the situation didn’t seem to hate him.
Lady Viola, however, appeared very unhappy. She curtseyed, but stiffly, and she sneered slightly at Rowena instead of properly greeting her. Andrew had to suppress the urge to berate the slighted young woman for her rudeness. Perhaps she was right to be upset with him, even though he had never done anything, apart from what his mother had ordered him to do, to give Lady Viola the impression that he was even considering courting her.
“Congratulations on your betrothal,” she eventually forced out, glancing briefly at Andrew with cold eyes.
The countess nodded, smiling warmly at Rowena.
“Congratulations, indeed, dear,” she said. “I am sure your parents must be thrilled.”
