Page 24 of An Unfamiliar Duke

May you count, eat, and recount to your heart’s delight.

Sincerely,

Sebastian

Intrigued, Rosalind untied the string and lifted the lid. A sweet, nutty smell assailed her, and she smiled with delight. The box was filled with sugared almonds. She immediately popped one into her mouth, savoring the delicious treat and reaching for another. Had Sebastian guessed that she would need to set a numerical limit on how many she consumed rather than on how many were in the box? The thought was bemusing. It was absurd to think that he could know her so well already, but she suspected that he might.

Chapter 10

Sebastian slipped his watch out of the pocket in his silver silk vest and glanced at it. Three minutes before ten. He released a tense breath, the sound echoing off the arched ceiling high above his head. At his side, his solicitor, Mr. Frandsen, shifted his feet.

“Are you well, Your Grace?” Frandsen’s voice ricocheted off the rows of pews behind them and filled the cavernous church.

“Quite well, thank you.” Sebastian tamped down his irritation with the overly attentive man. Surely it was forgivable to be somewhat nervous on one’s wedding day.

Resisting the urge to roll his shoulders, Sebastian kept his eyes on the stunning stained glass window in the apse before him. He knew full well that anxiously watching the main doors at the rear of the church would not make Rosalind appear any sooner. He took another deep breath. She would come; she told him she would. She had written to approve the wedding arrangements—had even expressed her pleasure over the asters he’d sent. She may not desire this union, but she had accepted it when he’d asked.

Mr. Baldwin stepped out of the vestry. The rector’s soft leather shoes and long cassock swished across the tiled floor as he moved toward the two gentlemen standing at the front of the church. Light from the huge candelabra above their heads reflected off his bald pate and off the gold lettering on the cover of the Book of Common Prayers in his hand.

“Do we have a bride, Your Grace?”

Given the vast emptiness all around them, the question was ludicrous, but Sebastian took the opportunity to check his watch once more. Ten o’clock. The first dong of the church clock reverberated through the hallowed building. Before the second one sounded, the doors at the back of the church creaked open and Lady Langton entered. She paused momentarily before starting down the aisle, and two people moved out of the shadows behind her.

Rosalind stepped into the light, and Sebastian could only stare. She was stunning. Her cream-colored gown was cinched tightly around her small waist before cascading into a wide circle of silk and lace. Ruffles decorated her sleeves and bodice, and around her neck, she wore a string of pearls. More pearls winked from her ears and from amid the dark curls piled upon her head, and her gloved hand lay on the arm of a sandy-haired gentleman.

Another dong. And then another. The sounds of the new arrivals’ footsteps and Rosalind’s skirts brushing against the pews filled the short pauses between the clock hammer’s strikes, and when the last one rang out, she was standing before Sebastian.

“Your Grace.” Rosalind’s escort bowed, and Sebastian recognized him immediately. Although he was one of the youngest members of Parliament, Lord Bloxley was well on his way to establishing himself as one of the most well-respected peers in the House of Lords.

“Bloxley,” Sebastian said, inclining his head in return. “You have my thanks.”

“My pleasure,” the earl said. He glanced at Rosalind. She gave a brief nod and lifted her hand from his arm.

Without another word, Lord Bloxley stepped away. Sebastian waited until the earl had taken his place beside Lady Langton, then he offered Rosalind his hand. She met his eyes.

“We shall make this work, Rosalind,” he said softly. “Better than most, I think.”

She held his gaze. He waited, wanting—no, needing—her to make the next move. And then, with an unsteady breath, she surrendered her trepidation to trust and placed her trembling hand in his. He curled his fingers around hers.

“Fifty-seven,” he whispered.

A line creased her brow. “Fifty-seven?””

“I took fifty-seven steps from the door to this spot. How many did you take?”

Her expression relaxed into a small smile. “Seventy-two.”

A few feet away, Mr. Baldwin cleared his throat. “Are you ready to start the ceremony, Your Grace?”

Sebastian released her hand and turned to face him. “I am.”

“And you, Miss Ainsworth?”

“Yes, Rector.”

“Very well.” Mr. Baldwin opened his book and cleared his throat once more. “Let us begin.”

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