Free Bound to Be a Groom by Megan Mulry Page B

Isabella prompted again. “Share and share alike. How did you get Sebastian to agree to it?”
    Anna smiled at all the brutal ways she knew she could get Sebastian to agree to anything she wished but said lightly, “I think Sebastian is quite looking forward to the possibilities.”
    “Oh dear.” Isabella kicked a pebble and had a cross look of disappointment on her brow.
    “What is it? Surely I cannot have shocked you.”
    “No, of course not. Now I shall be jealous.”

When they arrived in Madrid five days before their wedding, Anna was swept up in a storm of activity. Sebastian’s mother had made appointments with dressmakers, lace makers, lingerie makers from Paris, boot smiths, milliners, cobblers, furriers; Anna’s schedule was full from morning until night. Sebastian had been honest about his background, but Anna had not been fully prepared for the extent of his wealth and his family’s powerful position. Naturally, it was a situation to which she adapted with remarkable speed.
    On their third night in town, while playing a game of whist in the drawing room after supper, she watched Sebastian smile innocently when his mother praised Anna’s inherent talent for managing the tradespeople and servants. His two younger sisters were likewise delighted with the soft-spoken blonde woman Anna presented to the world, the woman who seemed to have captured their mysterious brother’s heart so completely. Sebastian’s father adored her love of Cervantes and Shakespeare. And even as she won the hearts of everyone in his close circle, Anna could tell Sebastian didn’t care much about any of that. He was completely focused on their wedding night, leaving her little trinkets and notes letting her know what it was costing him to repress his ardor.
    They were permitted to walk unchaperoned each afternoon in the Parque del Buen Retiro. The ever-present Sister Elvira had finally returned to the convent, once she was assured Anna’s virtue was secure under the watchful eye of the very formal Condesa de Montizon.
    On their first liberated walk in the park, Sebastian confessed that it all felt surreal. After years of garnering nothing but his parents’ disapproval, it turned out that she, a supposed slip of a girl, had thrown the world at his feet.
    She had worried that the rumors of her illegitimacy were still floating about nearly two decades later, but when they arrived in Madrid, a sealed envelope was awaiting them. The barrister of her mother’s husband, the illustrious Conde de Floridablanca, wrote to impart that on his deathbed the eighty-year-old conde had decided to be generous. He hadn’t left her a peso, but he had finally given Anna something he viewed as far more valuable: legitimacy.
    The piece of paper that declared Anna’s paternity was more than enough for Sebastian’s parents, who had feared their rebellious son would never find any woman to meet his vague but exacting standards, much less a virginal, convent-raised daughter of the aristocracy. Being illegitimate was hardly something new, it seemed, and the de Montizons were more than willing to turn a blind eye to her questionable birthright.
    On their next walk, Anna worked up her courage. She wanted to be honest regarding her ambivalence about fulfilling her wifely duty, in the most traditional sense of the word.
    They were walking slowly along a winding path near the lake when she finally blurted, “I’m hesitant, Seb.”
    “You? I don’t believe it! What could possibly give you pause? Tell me.” Sebastian looked down at her with those knowing eyes of his. His kindness was turning into something precious and reliable.
    “I don’t feel comfortable doing the actual . . . thing.”
    She could tell he was repressing his mirth.
    “Go ahead and laugh,” she said, throwing her arm out in defeat. “I know I’m being entirely ridiculous. But I just . . . I don’t know. It’s not what I want to do, and I don’t want you to be awaiting that