Free April Kihlstrom by The Dutiful Wife Page B

What would it matter anyway if the wedding was in three weeks or one? She had just agreed to give her life over to this man and surely that dwarfed everything else?
    She ought to have been panicking but that wasn’t the case. Was it terrible of her to feel such relief and joy rather than regret? It didn’t matter. She could no more change or hide her delight than she could have changed the color of her eyes.
    Beatrix had no idea how radiant her own smile was as she looked up at Rothwood and agreed to everything he said.

Chapter 5
    It was very convenient having connections all over England to all sorts of people, including in the church. It was merely a matter of one day’s ride on a horse borrowed from Mr. Trowley’s stable to reach the Archbishop of Canterbury, obtain the special license, sit down to a very fine meal and then return to the Trowley household the following day.
    Mind you, the Archbishop had not signed the document until after quizzing Rothwood on the marriage. “Precisely why do you wish to marry Miss Trowley and would your father approve?” he asked Edmund.
    “I believe my father would approve. But that is neither here nor there for I am the one who must live with whomever I marry,” Rothwood replied. “As for why Miss Trowley? It is a sensible match. My aunt and her mother are bosom bows. Furthermore, she has been raised with a suitable understanding of propriety and she looks up at me adoringly and agrees with all my opinions. In short, she will be precisely the sort of dutiful wife I require.”
    The Archbishop quirked a skeptical eyebrow upward at Rothwood’s words, and Rothwood found himself adding, somewhat testily, “I may be young but I am not so foolish as to forget what is due my family name. This is a marriage of practicality, not of sentimentality. Miss Trowley’s circumstances may not be equal to mine, but I assure you her breeding is all that could be desired and meets every requirement my father would have set for any wife I might choose.”
    “I see. Well, I wish you luck of it, then,” the Archbishop said. “I knew your father and sadly I must agree with you that he would indeed approve of how you are going about the matter.”
    And what the devil did that mean?
    Edmund tried to shrug off the Archbishop’s words. Would he have been more approving if he had been told it was a love match? If Edmund had confessed to being drawn to Miss Trowley because of a visit years earlier when he had been a mere boy? Perhaps, but he was dashed if he was going to make a cake of himself by saying so! Instead he turned the conversation to other matters and the Archbishop obliged him by not bringing up the subject again.
    The journey back to the Trowley household seemed uneventful. Until, that is, Rothwood stopped to refresh himself at an inn along the way. There he was informed by the ostler that the cinch on his saddle had been cut almost all the way through.
    “It’s a miracle, it is, it didn’t break, m’lord.”
    “Can it be repaired?”
    “No, but I can find another for you straightaway.”
    “Please do so. I’ll pay handsomely if you can.”
    Edmund gave the man enough to ensure he would find a replacement forthwith. Meanwhile, he retired to the inn to wait and kept a sharp eye out even as he seemed to be focused entirely on the pint of ale set before him.
    Someone didn’t want him to marry, which meant the sooner the ceremony occurred, the better. Once he was back in London, he’d find someone to look into the matter of both the damage to his coach and to the cinch. If someone hated him enough to wish to do him harm, he wanted to know who it was. For now, however, his priority must be the wedding.
    For the rest of the ride, Rothwood watched to see if anyone seemed to be following him but saw nothing. His thoughts began to stray to the Trowley household and he realized that he was actually anticipating with some relish the exuberant greeting of the Trowley siblings upon his