he was thinking the very same thing, but of course he made no mention of his thoughts. After all, it was her wedding day.
“Will you be taking an extended wedding trip, Lady Atwood?” the major inquired.
“Not at this time. We will spend a week or two at the family estate and then return to London for the remainder of the Season.”
“May I call on you when you are back in London?”
“I would like that very much. I have a feeling I shall need the support of all of my friends as I assume my new duties.”
“You may count on me.”
Dorothea’s smile widened. She reached out to take his hand in gratitude, but a female voice interrupted.
“Ah, there you are,” Emma called out. “Lord Atwood asked me to help him find you. ’Tis nearly time for the two of you to depart.”
The major glanced down the hallway. At the sight of Emma he bowed toward Dorothea and quickly retreated, almost as if he were avoiding an encounter with her youngest sister. Which was ridiculous, since they were not acquainted.
“I just repaired my wedding dress and now need to change into my traveling costume,” Dorothea told Emma with a sigh. “If I had realized the lateness of the hour I would have not wasted the time having the repair made.”
“I’ll come with you while you change,” Emma offered. “It will give us a few minutes for some private conversation.”
The two sisters hurried to Dorothea’s bedchamber, where a maid was waiting.
“I won’t have to return to Yorkshire after the wedding,” Emma confided as the maid helped Dorothea remove her lovely gown. “Aunt Mildred and Uncle Fletcher are allowing me to stay with Gwen and Jason. I’m planning to be there when Gwen’s baby is born.”
Baby? Dorothea frowned. Apparently Gwen was still keeping her suspicions that she was carrying twins to herself. “I know Gwen will be glad of your comforting presence when her time comes,” Dorothea answered. “And Jason, too.”
“Actually, he was the one who extended the invitation,” Emma said. She placed Dorothea’s blue bonnet on the top of her traveling case and handed the maid the elegant white one. “He thought it would help ease Gwen’s mind if I were with her during the final weeks of her confinement.”
“I’m sure it will help. I shall visit too before the baby arrives,” Dorothea declared, hoping Emma would be able to find a way to cope with their emotional, unpredictable eldest sister.
Emma knit her brow in puzzlement. “You will be rather busy, Dorothea. I doubt your new husband will grant you permission to be away from him so soon after your wedding.”
“I am a married woman, not a slave. Atwood will not object to my being with my sister,” Dorothea said confidently, though in truth she wondered if he would allow it.
How strange to think that the restrictions on her life were still as strong, still as confining. She somehow hoped that being married would afford her more choices, more chances to make her own decisions about her life. Yet in some ways so little was different. She had merely exchanged the dictates of a male guardian for the dictates of a husband.
Carter was waiting for her in the gravel drive, surrounded by most of the guests. Dorothea took her time saying goodbye to everyone, saving Lord and Lady Dardington for last.
“Be happy,” Lady Meredith whispered in her ear as she gripped Dorothea in a tight hug.
Lord Dardington took her hands in his. “Atwood seems like a fine man. Yet if you should ever find yourself in need of help, know that you can come to me.”
Dorothea squeezed his hand, smiling through the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”
With a final sniff, Dorothea put her hand on Carter’s forearm and allowed him to escort her to the carriage. She climbed the two steps, but before settling herself inside the elegant coach, Dorothea turned and tossed her bridal bouquet. Directly at Viscount Benton. He caught it automatically, his expression puzzled.
“’Tis said that the individual who catches the bride’s bouquet will be the next one married,” Dorothea announced with a smile.
There was a great roar of laughter from the crowd, most of whom were very aware of Benton’s view of the subject. He gazed down at the bouquet with obvious distaste, looking for all the world as if he held a nest of vipers. Then wrinkling his brow, the viscount surveyed the throng surrounding him.
Bypassing several pretty, eager young misses casting him coy glances, he handed the flowers to the Dardingtons’ eldest daughter. Stephanie’s face broke into a happy grin as she held the prize reverently in front of her.
“Well done, Benton,” Carter joked, before he entered the carriage and sat beside his bride.
The newlyweds turned toward the window and waved as the coach pulled out of the drive. There were shouts and cheers that could be heard until the carriage turned onto the busy street. And then a hushed silence filled the coach.
“I’m glad that’s over,” Atwood remarked.
“I thought it went rather well,” Dorothea replied, deciding she was not going to be sensitive over his obvious relief. Most men did not enjoy weddings, especially their own.
Summoning a pleasant expression, Dorothea turned to her husband. A lock of his dark hair had fallen over his left brow. Captivated by the teasing eyes, she drew closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his lean, powerful body. His clean, masculine scent seemed to surround her, intoxicate her.
Carter’s gaze lowered to Dorothea’s mouth. His eyes darkened, his breath hitched. She leaned in a little closer…
The carriage hit a deep rut and they were thrown apart. The spell was immediately broken. A sigh whooshed out of her lungs as Carter leaned back in his seat, turning away from her. Dorothea felt a keen rush of disappointment that she immediately struggled to conceal. A bride should be happy and smiling on her wedding day.
She mentioned the food at the wedding breakfast, inquiring as to which dishes were his favorites. He responded in kind and they spoke of inconsequential matters for the next few miles. Upon reaching the outskirts of Town they made a brief stop at a posting inn.
Atwood left the coach and to Dorothea’s great surprise did not return. Instead, he mounted a spirited gray stallion and continued the journey on horseback, leaving his bride to her own company.
As she sat alone in the coach, Dorothea caught an occasional glimpse of her groom riding past her. She wondered constantly what thoughts were crowded into his head. Was he happy? Pleased he had chosen her for his wife?
These worries were her only companion for the remainder of the journey. After what felt like an eternity, the carriage came to a stop at the top of a hill. Dorothea gazed out her window to the valley below. Nestled in the center was a magnificent stone mansion, surrounded by parklands and intricately designed gardens, and beyond that thick woods.
Even at this distance, Dorothea could see sprays of water shooting high in the air from the marble fountains, spotted also the diminutive figures of several gardeners as they toiled in the many-colored flower beds. Normally she would have been entranced by the sight of such a beautiful place, but her nerves had started to fray with each mile they drove.
“Ravenswood Manor,” Carter proclaimed, drawing his horse beside the carriage window.
“’Tis magnificent,” Dorothea responded.
“Oh, hell, I was afraid of this,” Atwood muttered beneath his breath. “It appears we have a welcoming committee.”
Stupefied, Dorothea peered closely at the house, noticing the two rows of staff neatly lined in front of the main entrance. Oh, dear, this was the very last thing she needed. She was tired, out of sorts, and trying to cope with a
