Surely an open, honest discussion of expectations and preferences between like-minded parties was the simplest way to conduct a marriage. Removing feelings from the scenario would also remove the risk of either person growing disappointed in the other, or with the marriage itself. But there was no telling how a woman would feel before the marriage, or what she might expect from him as her new husband. Or how outspoken she would be.

The image of his sister came to mind, her expression one of fury, her arms tightly folded as she stood her ground in one of their more recent fights.

He shuddered. Much as he was growing to adore Emblyn, he could not marry a woman like that. Not if he wished to maintain any sanity.

“Still pensive, my lord,” Tunbridge broke in. “If it would relieve your mind to discuss what is on it, please consider me a listening ear. If, of course, you prefer reserve, please be as pensive as you like.”

Was Tunbridge entirely serious? Harrison had known him for a matter of weeks. Just because Harrison was marrying the man’s daughter, he expected Harrison to confide in him about his thoughts and impressions? He rarely confided in the friends he’d had for years, why in the world would he do so with a stranger?

They had been arranging a connection between their families, not a friendship. Harrison would be taking their daughter back to Cornwall from the wedding breakfast and only return to London when he had to. There was no notion of two families becoming one, of sharing Christmases or birthdays, of hosting each other for fortnights at a time during the summer. Tunbridge had made it clear that they were a family of polite distance, and being separated from their daughter by several counties would not be a wrench. They were a typical family of British Society in London, not some aberration of country folk who clung to each other.

That was what Harrison had thought he was binding himself to, and such feelings suited his own.

Now the man wanted Harrison to consider him a confidante? Not bloody likely.

“Only thinking of my own family,” Harrison told him evasively.

“Ah, will they join us for the wedding?” Tunbridge asked with interest. “You have a brother, yes?”

Harrison nodded, not bothering to hide what was already known and not seeing a need to offer what was not expected. “I do, but unfortunately, he will not be able to join us.”

“Must be a very busy fellow, I daresay.” He released a sigh that sounded more amused than disgruntled. “Well, with my girl, Basset, there is no hope of having this wedding be a small affair. She will have her way—she and her mother.”

That was not encouraging.

“I’ve no interest in the wedding itself,” Harrison assured him, fighting the instinct to wince at the idea of fuss and finery. “Whatever will suit them will suffice.”