A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,63

on Freddie and her worries. “I am happy with this marriage—thrilled, in fact.” She made herself smile.

“You don’t look happy. And I do not understand why things have proceeded with such haste? Why have you not allowed us to tell anyone? And why—”

“I’m not pleased about the speed at which things are happening, but that’s rather my fault.” The only thing she’d shared with her friends about why she was getting married—that was true—was the episode in the duke’s study and the half-dozen witnesses. Freddie, far more than Miles, understood why she must marry the man.

Her friend nodded but her cheeks developed two rather alarming red spots.

“What is it Freddie?”

“About tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, your wedding night.”

It was Honey’s turn to blush. “Oh, that.”

“Do you know what will happen?”

Honey did not tell her that nothing would happen—that this was to be a childless marriage. Instead she nodded. “I was raised around artists. They are rather indiscreet,” she said, hoping that would be enough to put an end to a topic that was mortifying them both.

Freddie took her hand in a crushing grasp. “If you find it too unbearable, just know that it does not last forever.”

Honey blinked at the loathing and passion in Freddie’s normally cool eyes. She’d heard women complain, in vague ways, about their husband’s carnal desires, but none of them had looked as horrified as her friend. Not for the first time did she wonder about the other woman’s brief marriage to the Earl of Sedgewick. Part of her wanted to ask Freddie what had happened, another part feared what she might learn.

But now was hardly the time to ask, even if her friend was willing to share.

Honey told herself that she should feel glad she would never have to worry about that part of marriage. But those two kisses—and more—with Simon made that a difficult belief to cling to. It was even more difficult to put those memories out of her mind—to put them in that locked room with all the other thoughts and emotions that were too uncomfortable to consider in the harsh light of day.

Honey looked at the watch Freddie wore pinned to the bodice of her gown and stood. “I must hurry, he will be here soon.”

***

The chaise to Brighton was not as luxurious as the one the duke had arranged for her trip to Whitcomb, but Lord Saybrook said it was the best he could find on such short notice—after she told him that she would not ride in the ducal coach he’d planned to use.

Not only was the carriage less spacious and comfortable, but this time she was not alone in it. This time her long-legged, virile, hooded-eyed husband was with her.

He had assisted Honey into the front facing seat, said a mocking goodbye to Freddie and Miles—who’d glowered at him—and hopped inside, dropping into the seat facing her before rapping on the roof.

He looked across at her as the carriage sprang into motion. “Well, Lady Saybrook.”

Honey started at the name; she had not even considered the title. She was a marchioness and would one day be a duchess. The knowledge left her cold.

She lifted her eyebrows at her husband.

“Oh come,” he said, unrepressed by her quelling look. “We are in this together now. We used to be friends,” he saw something on her face and chuckled. “Alright, amiable acquaintances? How is that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “My point is that we once got on well enough. We ought to make the best of it, don’t you think?”

He was right, of course. They were now stuck with one another. Perhaps they could find some manner of living together that would be good for both of them.

She looked into his expectant eyes and opened her mouth. And then she remembered what he’d said about no children and taking lovers, and all her good intentions flew out the carriage window like frantic sparrows.

“I would like to get some rest,” she lied, secretly pleased when his mouth tightened at her snub.

She closed her eyes and laid her head back.

***

Simon wished he were riding beside the carriage on Loki, as he had first thought to do. But instead he’d decided to make peace and ride with his prickly new wife.

Unfortunately, he had sent Loki back to Whitcomb so now he was stuck with her, unless he wanted to rent a job hack at Grunstead, where they would spend their first evening as a married couple.

He brooded on that thought as he stared at her. He could