Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,36
much, to sacrifice himself for me.”
Even her friend could not argue with her words: Gabriel Marlington was sacrificing himself. If he was going to offer for any woman this Season, it would have been Lucinda Kittridge and everybody knew it. It was mortifying to know he would now be forced to settle for Drusilla.
Luckily the door opened, and Lady Exley and Aunt Vi entered. The marchioness stopped in the doorway and smiled.
“Oh, Drusilla, you do look lovely.”
Aunt Vi kissed her on both cheeks in an unprecedented display of affection. Neither her aunt nor her father had been given to physical warmth, and she guessed what her aunt was mostly expressing was relief. Dru didn’t blame her aunt for looking relieved to have shed the burden of finding her a husband. No doubt the older woman had believed she’d be chaperoning Drusilla until the end of her days.
“You look very fine, Drusilla. Your father would be so happy for you today.”
“Thank you, Aunt Vi. How are you feeling? I hope you’ll not overexert yourself.”
Her aunt squeezed her hands. “Don’t worry about me, please. I want you to enjoy your special day.”
Drusilla swallowed down a hysterical bubble of laughter. Her special day? Enjoyment was the last thing she expected from this day.
The marchioness enfolded Drusilla in a warm, tight embrace, her hard pregnant belly pressing against Drusilla in a way that made her realize she might be in a similar condition before too long. That was the wrong thought to entertain; it left her feeling weak, woozy, and unaccountably hot. And . . . eager.
Lady Exley then held her at arm’s length and laughed up at her. “Good, you have some color in your cheeks—no doubt because you are horrified at me for touching you so familiarly.” Drusilla opened her mouth to protest, but the vivacious woman waved it away. “You will learn I frequently act before I think. The marquess says it is part of my charm.” She waggled her eyebrows, making everyone laugh before she turned to her stepdaughter, who returned her embrace with enthusiasm.
“And you, my wonderful daughter,” Lady Exley said, examining Eva with keen eyes and making a tsking sound. “You must be the loveliest young woman in all of England, and you get prettier every day.”
“Oh, Mama.” Eva squirmed under her stepmother’s affection, but Drusilla could tell she loved it—and Lady Exley.
The tiny redhead leaned close to Drusilla. “We ladies are all too fine for our menfolk, but such is the way of things.” She squeezed Drusilla’s arm. “You must not tell my son I said that. Jibril believes he is the most beautiful, perfect creature alive, thanks to his doting mama.”
Drusilla could have told her, in all honesty, that she agreed. Yes, she could have said that easily. But she would have followed her declaration with weeping and the mortifying confession that she was about to marry a man with whom she was madly in love and who actively disliked her and wanted to marry another.
Fortunately, she kept her tongue behind her teeth.
Lady Exley chattered all the way down the stairs, into the drawing room where the rest of the small party waited, not stopping until the carriage arrived at the church perhaps a quarter of an hour later. The marquess watched his wife through slitted eyes the entire time, a half smile hovering on his cruel-looking mouth.
Aside from greeting her, telling her she looked lovely—a valiant lie—Drusilla’s bridegroom hardly said a word. He sat across from her and looked out the window, his expression like that of a man in a tumbril on his way to Madame Guillotine. As always, he was gloriously handsome. Her dress was a pale blue, and he had donned a dark blue coat over a gray silk waistcoat, fawn pantaloons, and glossy Hessians. The wedding was to be quiet and informal, so both he and Drusilla looked little different than if they’d been going for a walk in the park.
It did not disturb her to have a small wedding. After all, she had never planned to marry. Even so, part of her wished she’d possessed the courage to invite the members of her small circle, no matter that marriage went against everything they’d always stood for.
But she’d worried that, like Theo, they would have given her disapproving looks for joining the ranks of those who spent their lives frittering away time and money on the selfish pursuit of pleasure. An activity that would no doubt comprise the majority of her