LITMIR.BIZ

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narrow sleeves ended in points, which came down over the backs of her hands, were also studded with seed pearls in a swirling design.

      ‘It is so lovely,’ Imogen said, wishing she could give her aunt a hug when she came into her room on the eve of her wedding, to check over all her lists one last time.

      ‘You really have worked miracles over these last few days, Aunt.’

      Lady Callandar signalled the maid who had come in behind her to deposit the tray on a console table by the door, before saying, with some satisfaction, ‘Yes. I have every confidence that even though we threw this whole thing together at the last minute, it will pass off smoothly.’ She dismissed the maid, took the glasses of rich ruby port from the tray, and carried them over to the bed, where Imogen was reclining.

      ‘I do not know how much your mother may have told you,’ she said, handing Imogen one of the glasses and perching on the edge of the bed, ‘about the Duties of a Wife.’

      Most people would think Amanda had told her young daughter far too much about what it was like to be married to a hell-raising rake. Imogen saw her mother as she had been during the last days of her life, her eyes glittering with pain as she catalogued every detail of her own disastrous marriage and begged her not to make the same mistakes.

      But she very much feared that was exactly what she had done. From the very first moment she had clapped eyes on him, she had thought Viscount Mildenhall the most compellingly handsome man she had ever seen. Even discovering what an unpleasant nature he had, had done nothing to quench the fizz that a mere glimpse of him could start running through her.

      And then he had kissed her.

      To such devastating effect, she had agreed to marry him. Oh, she might have told herself she was merely falling in with what everyone expected of her. But she had a niggling suspicion that there were plenty of selfish reasons for marrying him, too. She had been guilty, when he had dined with the family, of sneaking peeks at his handsome profile when she was sure nobody else was watching her. Letting her eyes linger on those full, red lips. Recalling the episode on the terrace. And experiencing a very strong wish to soothe the mark her teeth had put there. And when he had looked up from his plate, and their eyes had met, a thrill had shot right through her, rendering her breathless for several seconds.

      She could not even summon up the will power to dislike him any more. Even his arrogant assertion that he was a catch now only seemed like a bald statement of the truth. He could have married anyone he wanted! Yet he had, as a gesture of friendship to Rick, made the truly noble sacrifice of marrying a girl he did not like one bit.

      Seeing the downcast expression on her niece’s face, Lady Callandar took a fortifying sip from her own glass.

      ‘Well, I am sure it will not be so bad for you, my dear, as it evidently was for your mother. I am sure Viscount Mildenhall will be able to set your pulses racing when he kisses you.’

      To hear her aunt speaking aloud of kissing Viscount Mildenhall, when that was exactly what she had been thinking about, made Imogen’s face flood with heat.

      ‘Ah!’ cried her eagle-eyed aunt. ‘So he had kissed you already, has he, the young rogue!’

      ‘Y-yes, Aunt,’ Imogen confessed. ‘I am so sorry…’

      ‘Well, never mind,’ she said magnanimously. ‘You are to be married, after all, and I can see that the prospect of becoming more intimate with him is not repugnant to you. Which is a good start. I should think that the first few weeks of your marriage, at least, should prove most enjoyable.’ She sighed, and a faraway look came into her eyes. ‘Ah, what it is to be a young bride, married to an energetic, well-put-together young man like that! Although—’ she gave herself a little shake ‘—you must not make the mistake of thinking, because of the amount of time he spends with you, and the level of intimacy you will share, that he may be doing anything so vulgar as falling in love with you.’

      From the way her aunt’s shoulders drooped, Imogen wondered whether the older woman was talking about her own experience of marriage. There were still traces of the handsome man her uncle had once been, beneath the layers of flab that years of self-indulgence had added to his frame. She could just imagine her aunt as a young bride, marrying with high hopes, then having them dashed by her uncle’s selfish, tyrannical attitude towards her.

      ‘We all know,’ her aunt continued in a rallying tone, ‘that Viscount Mildenhall has chosen you primarily because you are the sister of one of his closest friends. And because you are a healthy, energetic young woman who is likely to give him the heirs his father is so keen to see him produce. For those reasons, he is prepared to overlook your lack of dowry. Or so he told your uncle.’

      Ah. No wonder Lord Callandar had looked so pleased. He had managed to get his troublesome niece off his hands without having to dip into his pockets to induce somebody to marry her.

      She sighed. She had long since accepted she was nothing like her mother, who had been so beautiful that she inspired men to the heights of passion. Not, she shuddered, that she wanted to cause men to fight over her. Or kill one another for love of her. But it would be nice to think she might stir just a little bit of admiration in her groom’s breast.

      Her aunt, misinterpreting that shudder, was instantly full of sympathy. ‘It is the main duty of a wife to provide her husband with sons. It is a compliment to you, my dear, that out of all the women he might have chosen, Viscount Mildenhall picked you.’

      He did not pick her, so much as give in to Rick’s pleading to find a home for poor little Midge, she thought, slumping down into her pillows.

      ‘Oh, Imogen,’ Lady Callandar sighed tearily, ‘I know you are a very affectionate girl, but you must not look for that sort of love within marriage. Especially not from Viscount Mildenhall. From what I have observed of him since he came into the title, he takes after his mother, the Earl of Corfe’s second wife. She was a cold, proud woman.’ Her aunt grimaced. ‘Though that match was arranged by his parents, so it was hardly surprising they barely spoke to one another once she had presented him with a son. No, what you must hope for is that, in time, you will come to an easy understanding which will lead to a lifelong friendship.’

      Perhaps that might be possible. Once he had a chance to get to know her, he would see she was nothing like he had so far imagined! And once he stopped being so suspicious of her…

      Lady Callandar reached out and stroked a stray curl from her forehead. ‘Knowing you, the first time he strays you will experience agonizing jealousy. But on no account, my dear, must you create the kind of scene that will make your husband uncomfortable. No matter how many little affairs he may have, what you must remember is that you will always be his wife. His viscountess. It is equally important,’ she ploughed on, in spite of Imogen’s shocked gasp, ‘that you do not indulge your craving for affection until you have presented your husband with an heir. Even your mother, silly creature that she was, managed to wait until she had given birth to a healthy boy.’

      ‘It was not like that! She did not mean to have an affair with Lord Leybourne. It just happened!’

      Lady Callandar pursed her lips. ‘These things never just happen, Imogen.’

      Imogen flung herself back against the pillows, a scowl on her face. Her aunt did not understand what it had been like for her mother; that was the trouble.

      ‘It was madness, Imo,’ Amanda had sighed, though her eyes had been alight with an emotion Imogen had not been able to decipher. ‘We knew what we were doing was wrong, but, oh, we could not deny ourselves just a few snatched hours of happiness out of the wasteland Kit had made of my life.’ She had sighed and plucked at the coverlet with her emaciated, yellowed hand. ‘Not that your father cared one whit,’ she had pouted. ‘He thought it was a huge joke. He mocked William for being able to stomach touching me when I was pregnant. He taunted me with accounts of his current mistress. About her taut stomach and firm breasts. But William defended me.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘I remember Kit sitting at my dressing table, mopping at a cut over his eye with one of my handkerchiefs and laughing about the impressive

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