week.’
‘ I will be the one to inform your brother as to our intentions, Arabella,’ Darius cut in decisively, a cynical curl to his top lip. ‘As is my right as your future husband.’ He quirked one arrogant brow.
Arabella bit back the argument that had been hovering upon her lips, wisely deciding that prudence was probably the better course at this point in time. There would be plenty of opportunity after they were married for her to show Darius that she had no intention of being a conventional meek or obedient wife….
Chapter Four
‘I t is still not too late to change your mind, Arabella, if you have a single doubt as to the wisdom of marrying Carlyne.’
Arabella turned to look across her bedchamber as Hawk, her tall and imposing brother, stood in the doorway dressed in his own wedding finery of snowy white linen beneath a tailored claret-coloured jacket of the very finest velvet, black pantaloons and shiny black Hessians.
The rest of the family had already departed for St George’s Church in Hanover Square, but as the eldest of her brothers Hawk was to ride with Arabella in the bridal carriage, and then accompany her down the aisle before handing her into the care of her husband-to-be.
Into Darius Wynter’s care.
Arabella swallowed down her feelings of nervousness as she presented her brother with a widely confident smile. ‘I have no doubts at all, Hawk.’
This past week had been a busy one of hectic arrangements. Arabella had never been left alone for amoment as the dressmaker was visited, the ivory silk chosen for her gown and fittings arranged, flowers obtained, and the menu for the wedding breakfast decided upon in consultation with Jane.
There had been little or no time for second or third thoughts, and with everything there had been to arrange or decide upon, Arabella had seen very little of Darius himself. Despite that, Arabella was more convinced than ever that her choice of husband was the correct one. For her.
Arabella knew herself well enough to realise that she could never be happy with a weak man, a man she could bend to her will by artifice or design. And Darius would never be such a man.
Despite their lack of opportunity to spend time together, Arabella had nevertheless had the chance to witness for herself what she viewed as the strengths of Darius’s character. His arrogance was more than a match for any of her brothers whenever they chanced to meet. He had been charm itself on meeting Jane and being faced with her obvious uncertainties as to his suitability as a husband for Arabella.
Most surprising had been Darius’s consideration and gentleness with his brother’s widow, the Dowager Duchess of Carlyne, when she had arrived in London three days ago for the wedding and the betrothed couple had been invited to dine with her that evening.
Arabella had reassured herself that any man capable of showing such kindness as Darius had to Margaret Wynter, even a man who preferred the ton to think of him as a rake and a cynic, could not possibly be all bad.
Hawk’s austere expression softened slightly as hestepped further into the bedchamber. ‘You look so much like Mama today.’ He gazed down at her admiringly in the ivory silk gown, her golden curls enhanced by a matching bonnet, her bouquet a simple arrangement of deep yellow roses from the St Claire hot-house.
‘Really?’ Arabella glowed; she had been aged only eight when her mother and father were killed in a carriage accident, and over the years her memories of her warm and beautiful mother had become hazy at best.
‘Very much so,’ Hawk assured her gruffly as he reached out to take both her hands in his own. ‘How I wish our parents could be here to see how beautiful you look on your wedding day.’
Arabella squeezed his hands. ‘Perhaps they can.’
‘Perhaps,’ Hawk allowed gently.
She gave her brother a searching glance. ‘I am going to be happy, Hawk.’
‘So Lucian never fails to assure me.’ His eyes
‘ I will be the one to inform your brother as to our intentions, Arabella,’ Darius cut in decisively, a cynical curl to his top lip. ‘As is my right as your future husband.’ He quirked one arrogant brow.
Arabella bit back the argument that had been hovering upon her lips, wisely deciding that prudence was probably the better course at this point in time. There would be plenty of opportunity after they were married for her to show Darius that she had no intention of being a conventional meek or obedient wife….
Chapter Four
‘I t is still not too late to change your mind, Arabella, if you have a single doubt as to the wisdom of marrying Carlyne.’
Arabella turned to look across her bedchamber as Hawk, her tall and imposing brother, stood in the doorway dressed in his own wedding finery of snowy white linen beneath a tailored claret-coloured jacket of the very finest velvet, black pantaloons and shiny black Hessians.
The rest of the family had already departed for St George’s Church in Hanover Square, but as the eldest of her brothers Hawk was to ride with Arabella in the bridal carriage, and then accompany her down the aisle before handing her into the care of her husband-to-be.
Into Darius Wynter’s care.
Arabella swallowed down her feelings of nervousness as she presented her brother with a widely confident smile. ‘I have no doubts at all, Hawk.’
This past week had been a busy one of hectic arrangements. Arabella had never been left alone for amoment as the dressmaker was visited, the ivory silk chosen for her gown and fittings arranged, flowers obtained, and the menu for the wedding breakfast decided upon in consultation with Jane.
There had been little or no time for second or third thoughts, and with everything there had been to arrange or decide upon, Arabella had seen very little of Darius himself. Despite that, Arabella was more convinced than ever that her choice of husband was the correct one. For her.
Arabella knew herself well enough to realise that she could never be happy with a weak man, a man she could bend to her will by artifice or design. And Darius would never be such a man.
Despite their lack of opportunity to spend time together, Arabella had nevertheless had the chance to witness for herself what she viewed as the strengths of Darius’s character. His arrogance was more than a match for any of her brothers whenever they chanced to meet. He had been charm itself on meeting Jane and being faced with her obvious uncertainties as to his suitability as a husband for Arabella.
Most surprising had been Darius’s consideration and gentleness with his brother’s widow, the Dowager Duchess of Carlyne, when she had arrived in London three days ago for the wedding and the betrothed couple had been invited to dine with her that evening.
Arabella had reassured herself that any man capable of showing such kindness as Darius had to Margaret Wynter, even a man who preferred the ton to think of him as a rake and a cynic, could not possibly be all bad.
Hawk’s austere expression softened slightly as hestepped further into the bedchamber. ‘You look so much like Mama today.’ He gazed down at her admiringly in the ivory silk gown, her golden curls enhanced by a matching bonnet, her bouquet a simple arrangement of deep yellow roses from the St Claire hot-house.
‘Really?’ Arabella glowed; she had been aged only eight when her mother and father were killed in a carriage accident, and over the years her memories of her warm and beautiful mother had become hazy at best.
‘Very much so,’ Hawk assured her gruffly as he reached out to take both her hands in his own. ‘How I wish our parents could be here to see how beautiful you look on your wedding day.’
Arabella squeezed his hands. ‘Perhaps they can.’
‘Perhaps,’ Hawk allowed gently.
She gave her brother a searching glance. ‘I am going to be happy, Hawk.’
‘So Lucian never fails to assure me.’ His eyes
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