Rosamund
I have made a terrible mistake.
It was the morning of day two at Wellspring, and I was sitting at the writing desk in my chambers, staring at a blank sheet of paper as though the secrets of the wedding planning might materialise from it if I glared at it long enough.
Well, they didn't.
I have never organised a wedding, nor have I attended a wedding to begin with. The closest I had come to anything resembling a celebration was the matron at Hadley Cross letting us have an extra slice of bread on Christmas morning.
And now, I had boldly declared, in front of the Duke, his staff, and his insufferable secretary, that I would plan my own wedding to one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, in three days.
What had I been thinking?
"You could apologise to him," Fanny, who was standing behind me, said quietly. "Tell His Grace you spoke out of turn…"
"No!" I shook my head.
"Rosamund—"
