Chapter Eleven
As she took her first step into the church, Anastasia thought she might faint.
Her brother walked beside her, giving her away because that was how things were done—not because she particularly wanted him to.
After whom he had been willing to give her away to, she didn’t really feel that he had the right.
It seemed rather strange how drastically things would change after she said a few words at that altar.
She had always been her father’s responsibility, and then her brother’s—but once those words were said, she would no longer be a Carrington.
She would belong to Lord Walsham—and she just hoped that her impression of him as a kind man, in spite of his reputation, was accurate.
She would be a viscountess. It was a higher rank than she had ever possibly thought to obtain.
And she had no idea what to expect, nor how such a task was to be managed.
Even if she had thought she might one day rank so highly, there was no one to teach her what was expected.
Her mother was long dead, and had her beloved father had any knowledge of such things, he was also gone.
She didn’t even know what was really expected of a wife. What her wedding night would entail…
She had heard the occasional wry, bawdy joke, but nobody had felt the need to explain the facts of life to her, and so she found herself entering into this sacred covenant even more naive than most young women.
She carried this fear of the unknown with her as she walked down the aisle to meet her fate.
He was so tall—taller than she remembered, even though it had been mere days since the encounter on the dark walk.
And even in her haze of fear and panic, she could acknowledge how devastatingly handsome he was.
Handsome enough—and rich enough, as her brother had regularly reminded her—that his reputation could be overlooked by many.
Time seemed to slow down as she walked the short distance, and she was almost surprised when she found herself at the front of the church, with all eyes upon her and the viscount.
As Oliver passed her hand into his, she felt a jolt, a spark, fizzle through her at that point of contact, even through her white gloves.
“Please be seated,” the vicar said, and so it began.
She said the words that she was asked to repeat, but had she been asked afterwards, she was not sure she could have remembered a single one of them. She did remember the moment he put a ring on her finger, and those binding words were said: “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
She was a wife. A totally different person than she had been when she had walked into that church such a brief time earlier.
It did not feel entirely natural to have her arm threaded through Laurence’s, but he was a strong, steady presence beside her, and he gave her a little more confidence as they walked through the surprisingly large crowd of guests who had gathered to witness their nuptials.
He didn’t speak to her, though, until they were alone in the carriage, rattling off toward his London home, where they were to have a wedding breakfast.
“You look a little pale,” he said, his brow furrowing in concern. “There were certainly more guests in attendance than I expected.”
Her mouth felt unbearably dry, and it took her a moment to be able to speak. “It is all rather overwhelming,” she admitted in a small voice. “It… It has all happened so quickly. I feel like I cannot get my bearings.”
She wasn’t sure where the burst of honesty had come from.
She had not really spoken about this wedding with anyone.
She and Oliver were barely speaking, and when they were, it was not a topic she wished to discuss with him.
She had also not felt as though it was something she wished to mention to her maid, even though they were friendly.
She did not wish to start her tenure as a viscountess with gossip about how she had not felt prepared for such a task.
But, she reasoned, surely he understood how strange it felt to suddenly be making one of the biggest steps of one’s life, without any knowledge that it was to happen so soon?
He had also been dragged along for this dizzying ride, like a man who had fallen from his horse and had one foot caught in the stirrup as the horse bolted for freedom.
Neither of them had chosen this. Neither of them had expected it. But they would both have to make the best of things, if they were to live a happy life.
*
She looked small and scared, seated opposite him in the carriage, and he felt that same urge to take her into his arms and comfort her, as he had done in Vauxhall Gardens.
Today, there was nothing stopping him from acting upon it, and yet, he found he could not.
Look at where that embrace had led him. And besides, it felt different now.
Like it meant something more…like it should be accompanied by some sort of grand statement, one he had not thought to make.
He hoped she was not feeling too pressured by the day.
It had certainly been rather a surprising week, and he could see how the day could be overwhelming.
But he did not wish for her to look so afraid, so pale, so alone.
Because she wasn’t alone. He had promised to be there for her in sickness and in health, until death they did part—and so she would never be alone again.
And neither would he.
“Our guests need not stay long,” Lord Walsham said. “Of course, it is traditional that we have a wedding breakfast, and people will talk if we do not. But we have only invited a handful of people back to the house. And then…it will just be us.”