The Temporary Wife Read Online Free PDF

purpose."
    Lord Rowling took his snuffbox from a pocket, but he held it unopened in one hand while he stared at his companion. "You are making a mistake, Tony," he said. "A ghastly and an irrevocable one. What if the woman refuses to be shed?"
    The Marquess of Staunton merely raised one haughty and eloquent eyebrow. "Like all brides, Perry," he said, "she will promise obedience tomorrow morning. I believe I will dance with Miss Henshaw. She has been warned of my reputation and blushes most prettily and looks away in sweet confusion every time she accidentally catches my eye—which she is at pains to do quite frequently."
    He strolled off to pursue his mission, but the main task of the evening had been accomplished. Rowling had agreed to attend his wedding as a witness. Staunton did not often frequent Almack's or any other fashionable ballroom for that matter. He set about amusing himself for the evening. His last evening as a single man. He examined the thought as he danced with the blushing Miss Henshaw and concentrated upon deepening her blushes. But he did not find the thought in any way alarming.
    Tomorrow was his wedding day. Merely another day in his life.
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    Chapter 3
    True to his promise, Lord Rowling arrived in Upper Grosvenor Street in good time the following morning to accompany the groom to the church, where the marquess's man of business as the other witness awaited them. The Marquess of Staunton, to his friend's fascination, appeared as coolly composed—and as immaculately tailored—as if he were planning a morning stroll along Bond Street.
    "You are quite sure about this?" Lord Rowling asked as they prepared to leave the house. "There is nothing I can say to persuade you to change your mind, Tony?"
    "Good Lord, no," the marquess said, placing his hat just so on his head and raising his eyebrows to his servant to indicate that he was ready to proceed out-of-doors.
    The church was not one of London's most fashionable. It looked gloomy enough to Lord Rowling as did the street on which it was situated and as did the heavy gray sky overhead. The groom appeared quite unaffected by gloom—or by elation either. He nodded to his man of business and strode without further ado toward the church door. His two companions exchanged glances and followed him.
    Inside the church, seated quietly in a shadowed pew at the back, the bride waited. She was dressed as she had been the day before, her bridegroom noticed immediately. She had made no attempt to get herself up in a bride's frippery. He had not thought to give her money to buy herself new clothes, the marquess thought belatedly—a new dress for today, bride clothes to take with her into her more affluent future. And they were to leave for the country soon after the wedding. There would be no time for shopping. Well, no matter. It would be better to take her exactly as she was.
    "Miss Duncan?" He half bowed to her and held out his arm for hers.
    "Yes, sir." She stood up, looked at him briefly, and then lowered her gaze to his arm. She appeared not to know whether she should lay her own along the top of it or link her own through it. He took her hand in his free one and set it on his wrist. He did not pause to present her to Lord Rowling. He was impatient.
    "The rector is waiting," he said.
    "Yes, sir." She glanced to the front of the church.
    His mouth felt surprisingly dry and his heartbeat surprisingly unsteady. She was a total stranger. She was about to become his wife. For the rest of a lifetime. For a moment his mind touched upon the notion that he might live to regret this day. But he suppressed the thought, as he had done when he had awoken soon after dawn and again while he had breakfasted. He despised last-minute nerves. He led his bride forward.
    Without all the pomp and ceremony that had accompanied every society wedding he had ever attended, the nuptial service was really quite short and unremarkable, he found. The rector spoke, he spoke, she spoke,