Marriage will free me from the economic constraints I’ve lived under.” She didn’t want to directly mention her father’s will, but just about everyone in London knew the conditions. “I will now have more resources than ever to put toward our cause.”
“I do know that, Dru. And I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“Just what?”
“Well, Marlington, he will be your husband. Are you certain he won’t—”
“He’s taken nothing in the marriage contract, Theo.”
His jaw had dropped. “What?” he’d demanded in a skeptical tone. Her displeasure must have been clear on her face because he’d made a swift recovery. “Do remember, Drusilla, that as your husband, he’ll have complete authority over you. What if he decides your work is not suitable or appropriate?”
The question had irked her, but she could see why Theo would be concerned, given all the work, time, and effort he had put into the various projects. “He will not interfere.”
“But—”
“I won’t discuss such private affairs with you, Theo. He is to be my husband and our marriage is our own concern.”
He’d behaved with far more circumspection after that, and they’d discussed two of the recent projects he’d been overseeing.
“Miss Clare?”
The carriage had stopped, and Gabriel was waiting to help her out. He was looking up at her, his hand outstretched, his beautiful face unreadable. In less than an hour he would be her husband.
She swallowed hard and took his hand.
Viscount Byer and a small clutch of other guests—mostly Lady Exley’s family if the hair color was anything to go by—had just arrived and were greeting one another outside the church.
Drusilla was introduced to her husband-to-be’s terrifyingly proper grandfather, the Duke of Carlisle, as well as a dizzying number of cousins and aunts and uncles. She became weak with relief when they all followed Lady Exley into the small church and left her alone with Eva and Byer. She didn’t have much of an opinion of the viscount, who appeared to spend his time drinking, gaming, womanizing, engaging in foolish bets, and becoming the oldest student in Great Britain.
Byer examined Drusilla through an ornate quizzing glass as they stood waiting in the narthex. Gabriel and the marquess had gone to meet with the vicar, and the other guests were taking their seats, almost filling the tiny church.
“You’re looking lovely this morning, Miss Clare.” Byer’s voice had the bored, languid quality of an exhausted fop. He wore rings on every finger of his hand but one: the ring finger on his left hand.
Before Drusilla could answer him, Eva burst out laughing. “Lord, Tommy, you put on such a horrid show with your wretched glass.” She punched him in the shoulder hard enough to make him wince.
He rubbed his arm. “Proper young ladies do not punch proper young men.”
“But we are neither of us proper, are we?” Eva countered, twisting her gloves—which were already grubby—into a tight spiral with both hands. “Tell me, did you ever manage to sell that wind-sucking mare of yours?”
“To which horse are you referring, my child?” Byer turned his glass on Eva, but she just grinned up at him and then poked him in the abdomen with her wad of gloves.
He coughed and dropped his glass.
“That dreadful roarer you bought from Lord Buckingham.”
Byer looked pained. “Such cant does not become a young lady,” he said repressively.
Eva laughed, unrepressed. “I shall take it that is a no. Next time you’re in the market for cattle, you’d do far better to allow my brother to choose for you, or, better yet, bring me along to Tatt’s.”
Byer rolled his eyes, but Eva was looking over his shoulder.
“Ah, there you are, Gabe. Are you ready for us?” she asked.
Gabriel was accompanied by Lord Exley, who’d offered to give Drusilla away. Just thinking the words made Drusilla want to scowl: give her away. As if she were a parcel or a jar of calf’s-foot jelly or a bundle of old rags. Drusilla would have preferred walking alone to accompanying the intimidating marquess but declining his offer had seemed the wrong way to begin her new life.
“Ah, Marlington—at last,” Byer said, “Come and save me from your sister.”
Gabriel ignored his groomsman and cut Drusilla a quick glance and, surprisingly, a reassuring smile. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Gabriel turned to Eva. “You and Byer will come with me.”
And so Drusilla found herself alone with Lord Exley.
“Miss Clare?”
She looked up from her clenched hands. “Yes, my lord?”
“You are pale—do you feel well?”
His solicitousness surprised her. “Just fatigued from lack of sleep, my