broke in. ‘But when there’s no baby in nine months’ time they’ll realise they were wrong. I’m not pregnant, Lord Bramley.’
‘Then why the rush?’
‘I believe you’re the one who set the timer, sir.’
If Will ever used that tone with her she might just shrivel on the spot!
‘Then why don’t you just go to some hole-and-corner register office?’ he spat.
‘Because that’s not what I want,’ Sophie inserted with a confidence she was far from feeling, her best hostess smile in place. She didn’t actually know what a hole-and-corner register office might be, or if it even existed, but she caught the tone well enough. Will was going to give her a million pounds. She had to save the situation before Will blew it and told the old man precisely what he could do with his estate.
She refused to let her smile waver. ‘I always swore that when I got married it’d be done right.’ She’d just never envisaged a marriage like...this. ‘I agree that three weeks isn’t much time, but it’s doable. Which is just as well as it’s the timeframe Will has given me.’
Both men stared at her as if she’d grown a second head.
‘Four generations of the Trent-Patersons have been married here at the village church. I happen to think it’s important for Will to be married from here as well. It’s a tradition that should be preserved.’
A different light came into Lord Bramley’s eyes. He leaned back and folded his arms. Sophie held her breath.
‘My grandson doesn’t think so. He thinks tradition a waste of time.’
Will’s hands clenched. ‘When tradition is used as an excuse to force someone to do something unprincipled, when it’s an excuse for bad behaviour and deceit, then it’s empty, worthless and meaningless. And I refuse to have anything to do with it.’
Wow! Will vibrated with barely contained anger. Damage control. ‘I think we might’ve just gone off track.’
Beside her, Will swore. She slipped her hand inside his and he gripped it hard. ‘The kind of tradition I’m talking about is a nice one. One that I’d be proud to be a part of.’
Will met her gaze and she sent him a smile. He stared at her for two beats and then shook his head and sent her a rueful smile in return.
Squaring his shoulders, he swung back to his grandfather. ‘Sophie has her heart set on being married from Ashbarrow. And I want her to have the wedding of her dreams.’
‘What does your father think about this?’
Her stomach clenched at Lord Bramley’s sly question. ‘As soon as I tell him I’ll let you know.’
‘He’ll have his heart set on a London wedding.’
She bit back an inappropriate smile along with an even more inappropriate gurgle of laughter. ‘Nonsense. What he has his heart set on is his daughter mending her wicked ways.’
Lord Bramley remained silent for several long moments. ‘Very well, you can be married from here on two conditions.’
Will stiffened. ‘If I don’t like your—’
She dug her fingernails into the back of his hand. ‘Which are?’
‘That you delay your nuptials for another week. Give me a month to get the place ready.’
She glanced at Will. His lips thinned into a mutinous line. Lips that had touched hers and sent such a jolt through her she still hadn’t recovered. Don’t think about that!
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