Chapter Eleven
Today was her wedding day, and Selina was getting married in a house she’d never visited before. The special licence had been granted, which meant they could marry anywhere and without the usual reading of the banns as long as they had witnesses and a member of the clergy performing the ceremony.
‘Well, my dear,’ said Aunt Mary thoughtfully, staring up at the white townhouse with its iron railings and columned entrance. ‘It’s a beautiful house. Pity you’ll be in it only one month of the year. But perhaps that is the price you pay for such luxury.’
Selina stared up at the imposingly grand building and sighed. ‘It is beautiful.’
Far better than anything she might have hoped to own one day, with its huge windows, decorative balconies and elaborate details.
Her father was unimpressed and merely sniffed bad temperedly, while tucking Selina’s arm under his. ‘Let’s get this done,’ he said. ‘Unless, you wish to return to Great Yarmouth? There’s still time to reconsider…’
Surprised that her father would offer such a thing, she wondered for a moment if she should turn and run.
But to be unmarried, ruined and miserable in Great Yarmouth had to be worse than being a princess, surely?
Besides, Selina would always rather regret action than inaction.
Swallowing down her nerves, she shook her head. ‘No, let’s go in.’
Aunt Mary had insisted on a new white gown for the wedding.
She thought it the best colour for a future princess.
Only the aristocracy tended to get married in fashionable white—as most ordinary women preferred to reuse their wedding dress for other special occasions, and white tended to stain.
Selina loved the dress but had thought it too dull at first and had insisted on some crimson ribbons to be added to the bodice and hem, which she was pleased with.
Matching ribbons were laced around her hair, which was styled in a bun high on her head, with some face-framing curls tumbling around her ears. She carried a small posy of crimson peonies, which was strangely fitting, considering they were the same shade as the dress she’d met Prince Magnus in.
Selina had been up with her aunt since dawn to get ready in time, as the prince had insisted on the earliest possible hour for a wedding, eight o’clock in the morning.
Could that be why no one had replied to her invitations and letters? The early hour of their wedding might have put people off from confirming attendance.
Since the news of their special licence had slowly spread throughout the ton, she’d slowly had more curious callers.
Although, none of them had been the people she’d hoped to see, like Charlotte and Anne.
She knew they were back in London. She’d sent them letters informing them of her new residence and apologising for her mistakes.
The only thing she’d received in return was her clothes trunks from Lady Anne, and there had been no note or reply with them.
She supposed she had burned that particular bridge by making that comment about the earl losing his head—another reason to curse her runaway tongue. But she had hoped for Charlotte or one of the others to wish her well.
They began to walk up the steps to the house, and an observant butler opened the door.
He must have had his ear pressed against the wood waiting for the merest whisper of a hackney, because it opened before they reached the top step.
‘Welcome, Admiral Sir John Mortimer, Miss Mary Mortimer and Miss Selina Mortimer. His Serene Highness is waiting for you in the parlour.’
‘Are we late?’ said Selina, worried. She hoped Prince Magnus wouldn’t be angry with her. She’d irritated him enough as it was without giving him further reason to despair over her.
The admiral inspected his pocket-watch. ‘Two minutes to eight. We’re early.’
She suspected that would be late, according to Prince Magnus. Which was confirmed when Prince Hans came out in a hurry to welcome them.
‘Ah, you look beautiful, Miss Mortimer!’ declared Prince Hans, who then greeted her father and aunt with more formality.
Selina wasn’t listening, however; her eyes were drawn to the open doorway of the parlour and the broad back of Prince Magnus, who stood speaking with the clergyman.
He turned slowly as they entered, his expression blank as he stared at her from across the room.
She wished she could be as cold and aloof, but the sight of him caused her heart to skip a beat, before it skittered forward in a tumbling rush.
He had on similar formalwear to the night of the ball, his sword at his side, and the gleam of his buttons sparkling in the daylight streaming in from the large bay windows. But today his clothing fit perfectly, and he looked so handsome her breath caught in her throat.
But then she looked around at the rest of the room, and her heart sank.
She’d suspected from the lack of replies that no one would come, but to see the absence of well-wishers was a bitter blow and a reminder of how little people cared for her.
The same people who previously had deliberately sought her out at a ball for her witty company wouldn’t bother themselves to wake up early for her wedding day.
Selina clutched her bouquet tightly and focused on the man who was waiting for her. For all of his faults and obvious dislike of her, he had still kept his word, and she would do the same.
The ceremony was short, and Selina couldn’t help but think she’d had more meaningful exchanges with a shopkeeper.
She was given a ring, the clergyman gave the usual service from The Book of Common Prayer, and as they already had the special licence there was nothing else to do but awkwardly thank the clergyman for his time.
The light breakfast that followed was the only relief in the dreariness of her wedding.
They ate in the dining room, their small party barely filling the long table.
Her new husband sat at the opposite end of the table so there was no chance of them conversing.
Selina had to almost shout to be heard by her father—whose hearing wasn’t the best after all the cannon fire during the war.
Her meal was delicately plated for her by the footman, and she realised she’d barely said more than a few words to her husband since arriving.
Two of those words had been I do.
There was buttered toast, eggs boiled and scrambled, a variety of hams and sweet breads.
The wedding cake sat in the centre of the table in pride of place, delivered from Gunter’s that morning and set on a silver stand.
It was a spiced plum cake with two layers and covered with sugar icing so white it looked like creamy snow.
Two flavours of hot chocolate were poured from specially designed silver jugs, which included a molinet to help mix it before pouring into china cups.
Selina tried the cinnamon flavour, but wished she could have tried the orange flower as well.
Although she was worried, she would look odd asking for two cups, especially after the footman had made a great show of whisking with the molinet before pouring to create the perfect froth.
To thank him for all his hard work, she’d taken a sip and exclaimed, ‘Why, that’s delicious and far better than anything from the Coffee Mill!’ She beamed up at the footman, who blushed and nodded in response.
Prince Hans, who was the closest to her, leaned in. ‘Do you like coffee as well, sister? May I call you sister?’
Selina smiled. ‘Sister or Selina is fine by me. However, as an only child I am not used to having a sibling, so forgive me if I do not always answer. And as regards to the coffee, I am afraid I cannot bear it. My father likes it, although I suspect only because it perks him up in the afternoon.’
Hans laughed. ‘I wonder if that’s why my brother enjoys it? To perk him up as you say.’
Selina glanced at her husband at the far end of the long table.
She couldn’t imagine him looking anything other than imposing.
Even now he was listening to her father speak but staring at her with an intensity she found startling.
She lifted her cup to hide her mouth, half-afraid her new husband might be able to read her lips.
He stared at her a lot, she realised, probably wondering what on earth he’d done to be landed with such a burden.
‘Do you think he will hate me forever—for being forced to marry me?’
Hans’s expression sobered, and he looked between them thoughtfully.
‘I do not think he hates you, although I have never understood my brother well. He is not…expressive with his feelings. But I can assure you of one thing. You did not force him into marrying you, so there is nothing for him to forgive. And do not let him or anyone else make you feel guilty about the circumstances surrounding your marriage. If anything, you gave him the opportunity to retract his offer several times.’
Selina chuckled and sipped her chocolate. ‘That is true. My maid, Louisa, said that the return journey to London was the longest of her life.’
Hans laughed, back to his usual self. ‘How will she survive the voyage this afternoon, if she thought that jaunt was long? Unless…is she not joining us in Thrudheim?’
Selina blinked and set down her cup with a clatter.
‘What do you mean by this afternoon? Surely, we will be staying in London for the rest of the season or a few weeks at least.’ She glanced around the table, unable to believe that they would be leaving so abruptly, and especially without warning her about it first.
A burst of pain hit her square in the chest when Aunt Mary avoided her eyes. That was why she’d remarked it was a pity Selina wouldn’t be staying in the townhouse for long. They all knew she would be leaving immediately.