Chapter Twenty-Two: Setting the Date

The drawing room of the Islington estate was alive with chatter, the air heavy with anticipation. The two families—Kensington and Islington—sat together, the atmosphere laced with formality and purpose. Eleanor perched gracefully on a velvet armchair, her back straight, her gloved hands resting delicately in her lap. Beside her, her mother was engrossed in conversation with the Duchess of Islington, both women animated as they discussed the details of the impending wedding. 

Theodore, seated opposite Eleanor, looked every bit the composed gentleman. His dark eyes, however, betrayed a spark of mischief as they lingered on her. He appeared to be listening attentively to his father, who was going over the arrangements, but his mind was far from the meticulous rituals being planned. 

"We propose the ceremony to take place in four weeks," the Duke of Kensington announced, his authoritative tone cutting through the room. "That will allow ample time for the necessary preparations and for the banns to be read in the church." 

"Four weeks seems ideal," the Duke of Islington agreed, nodding. "It’s enough time for the invitations to be sent and for the family estates to be prepared for the celebrations." 

Eleanor felt her stomach flutter at the thought. Four weeks. It seemed so soon, yet the expectation of a swift engagement was not unusual in their world. She stole a glance at Theodore, who caught her eye and held it, his expression unreadable. 

The Duchess of Kensington leaned forward, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "And, of course, we must plan the pre-wedding rituals with care. The engagement ball, the formal tea, and the church blessing." 

Theodore resisted the urge to sigh. He had never been one for elaborate rituals. The endless series of events leading up to aristocratic weddings always seemed excessive to him—formalities designed to appease societal expectations rather than personal desires. But as his gaze shifted to Eleanor, he found himself willing to endure the charade. 

The thought of her in exquisite gowns, moving gracefully through the ceremonies, was enough to make the ordeal seem almost tolerable. He imagined her at the engagement ball, her dress shimmering under the chandeliers, her beauty captivating everyone in attendance. And on the day of the wedding, he could already picture her in the bridal gown, a vision of elegance and perfection. 

Theodore’s father turned to him, drawing him back to the present. "Theodore, what do you think of the arrangements?" 

He straightened in his chair, offering a polite smile. "They sound... thorough. I trust both families will ensure everything is in order." 

The Duke of Kensington chuckled. "Well said, young man. And I trust you’ll play your part in all this?" 

"Of course," Theodore replied smoothly, though his mind was already wandering back to Eleanor. 

The Duchess of Islington addressed Eleanor, her voice warm and approving. "And you, my dear? How do you feel about all this?" 

Eleanor hesitated for a moment, her composure faltering ever so slightly. She glanced at Theodore before answering, her voice steady but soft. "I am grateful for the care both families are taking to make this occasion special. It is... overwhelming, but in the best way." 

The Duchess smiled, clearly pleased with her response. "You are a credit to your family, Eleanor. And I have no doubt you and Theodore will make a remarkable pair." 

Eleanor forced a smile, but her thoughts were a swirl of conflicting emotions. She had always known her marriage would be arranged, that it would be a union of families and estates rather than one of pure choice. Yet, as she sat there, the reality of her impending wedding felt both exhilarating and suffocating. 

When the final details of the date and rituals were agreed upon, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Eleanor found herself exchanging polite pleasantries with the Duchess of Islington while Theodore engaged in a spirited discussion with her father about politics and estate management. 

But despite the outward civility, there was an unspoken tension between Eleanor and Theodore. Each stolen glance, each fleeting moment of eye contact, was charged with something far more personal than the formalities being discussed around them. 

As the afternoon wore on, the Kensingtons prepared to take their leave. The families exchanged farewells, the Dukes shaking hands and the Duchesses embracing warmly. 

Theodore stepped forward to escort Eleanor to the carriage. As they walked side by side down the grand corridor, he leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur meant only for her ears. 

"You’ll look exquisite in every gown they choose for you," he said, his tone teasing but laced with sincerity. 

Eleanor felt her cheeks warm, but she refused to let him see her flustered. "And you’ll look dashing in whatever cravat they tie you in," she replied, her tone equally playful. 

He smirked, clearly enjoying their banter. "Four weeks, Lady Kensington," he said, his voice softening. "Are you ready for it?" 

She met his gaze, her expression calm but her heart racing. "I suppose I’ll have to be, Lord Blackwood. Will you be?" 

He chuckled, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "For you, Eleanor? Always." 

He helped her into the carriage, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. As the Kensington family departed, Theodore watched the carriage disappear down the driveway, his mind filled with thoughts of the woman he would soon call his wife. 

And for the first time, the rituals and formalities didn’t seem so unbearable. Because at the end of it all, he would have Eleanor. And she was worth everything.