“You should only invite people whose presence you value,” he insisted in return.
“Then it will be a very small wedding,” she managed a smile.
“Did you not dream of how your wedding would be when you were a child?” Will asked her then, and she swung a pained gaze back to him.
Why was he playing with her?He knew all her childhood dreams of marriage, but he also knew that not in any one of those dreams did she expect to be marrying Ernest Barrington.
“No,” she said to him directly. “I never had any such dreams.” She dared him to say otherwise. It seemed he was willing to take her up on that dare.
“Well, I did,” he said to Ernest, turning away from Rose’s gaze as the footmen put bowls of soup down in front of each of them.
“The wedding would be held down by the river. There is a beautiful place in a clearing which is very special to me.”
Was Will really suggesting that she marry Ernest in their own private place? Could anything be any crueler?He was still talking.
“There would be an arch of flowers on the river bank and candles leading to it, with more flowers in the trees.”
Rose felt tears beginning to gather in the base of her throat.That is indeed how it would be, she thought,if the groom was going to be Will.She gulped repeatedly so neither man would notice her distress. She could only imagine Will was engaging in this ghastly charade to keep on Ernest’s good side.
“You are quite the romantic Mr. Browning,” Ernest said as he sipped at his soup. “Don’t you think that sounds lovely, my dear? So much more pleasant than a fusty old church.”
“I doubt the vicar would agree,” Rose said coolly.
“One only has to ask him,” Will said.
“I don’t think so,” Rose insisted. “The vicar in town is not one for fanciful ideas. He is a traditionalist.”
“What about the flowers? Which ones would you favor my dear?”
“I have always found it better to leave the choice of flowers to the gardeners. There are plenty to choose from on the grounds.”
“Roses, Lilies and Carnations,” Will announced, looking straight at Rose.
“I never took you for a man who knew about flowers, Mr. Browning,” said Ernest.
“I am very fond of certain types of flowers, Your Grace,” he said directly to her with a sultry look in his brown eyes.
Rose couldn't believe he didn't think Ernest would notice. She had only recently formeda civil relationship with him. She could only imagine what kind of backlash he'd face if he suspected he'd been fooled. She had to stop Will and change the subject.
“I understand your own marriage to Lady Camilla is no longer going ahead, Mr. Browning.”
“That is correct,” he confirmed, dipping his head towards his bowl.
“I am sorry to hear that.” Will looked up into her gaze with a query in his eyes. “Were your own plans well advanced?”
“Not very.” He smiled.
“You must be devastated.”
“Less than you might think, Your Grace.”
“Well, whoever marries you, it seems, will benefit from a groom who has all his ideas already firmly in place,” Rose said.
“I hope so.” Will smiled at her. “I am a man who likes to be prepared.”
Rose snuck a look at Ernest, but rather than looking suspicious or surly, he was smiling at them both.
“How many guests would be optimal do you think?” he asked, his gaze going from one to the other.