Well, Miss Dyer would absolutely stab him with whatever sharp object was within reach if she knew that the sister he had asked such a favor for was illegitimate, barely literate, and held no fine accomplishment that he had ever seen, unless one counted the baking of breads and pies to be such a thing.

And then there was the small matter of her despising the very sight of him, as he was frequently reminded in his biweekly calls. Not that she would ever use such frankness to express something so ill-mannered, but it did not take excellent vision to read her expressions. He fully anticipated finding a new twitch of sorts in her features when she reached the altar, given her adverse reactions to seeing him at any given time.

And yet, he had not heard one word against their match from her, even when there had been ample time and occasion to do so. She had never once told him that she would not marry him, though she also hadn’t said a word about enjoying the prospect. She showed as little interest in the idea as one might have expected to find when the topic of dust was brought up for discussion.

But she had not fought it.

Not to him, at any rate. He supposed he could not say for certain that she had not done so at all. There was no telling what sort of protest she was exuding in her own home among her family, what arguments ensued when he was not present, or how she truly felt about anything regarding him, marriage, their wedding, or anything else. And he had certainly given her no reason to confide in him, to look forward to the thing, or feel in any way pleased by the arrangement.

Perhaps part of her spite was his fault.

But then, she had started it.

That was certainly a point in his favor.

And he certainly hadn’t imagined seeing crushed and wilting flowers strewn on the road outside of her house yesterday. More particularly, ones that exactly matched those he had ordered to be sent to her. It hadn’t been a sentimental thought, certainly hadn’t been an emotional one, but, he had been told, rather a task expected of a man who was soon to be married. And such flowers were always well received, those same sources had said, particularly if they looked expensive.

She had effectively corrected his assumptions on that score.

So he would make no more attempts to appear the doting bridegroom, nor would he pretend that he was doing what thousands of men had done before, and what dozens had no doubt done just in the last several weeks as the Season wore out. He was a bridegroom in the legal sense, he supposed, but not in any other respect.