18
Everyone kept exclaiming all the way to the church that it was a fine day for a wedding, but Philippa was too nervous to enjoy the warmth of the sun. Her nerves had left her exhausted and short of breath. She knew Beau was already waiting at the altar because her grandfather had winked when he casually mentioned it as she and her parents rode towards St George’s. It had been discussed that her father would be spoken of as another old friend of her father’s from the country and would be walking her down the aisle.
“You’re looking a bit pale,” her mother said and touched her cheek. “Don’t fret about the wedding. They go by rather quickly.”
“They certainly do,” her father agreed.
The duke’s eyes filled with concern. “You don’t wish to cry off?”
“No, I want to marry him,” she assured S
