Chapter 6 #2
Courting Arabella and marrying her had been the highlight of his life until that moment.
It had been like stepping out of the darkness into a ray of sunshine.
Only that sunshine had soon clouded, and night had enveloped him.
He would have been entirely in darkness if not for Henry.
Henry was like the stars in a dark sky that lit the way.
Without him... He shook his head and looked away.
What would Marianne say if she saw that Mrs. Greaves, his housekeeper, was sitting amongst the invited guests?
In the second row, no less. The front row was made up of assorted aunts and uncles, none of whom he was terribly close to.
Mrs. Greaves sat beside Rhys and his wife.
She was family, not by blood, but in every other way.
She had always been there. And he knew she would not always be—she was growing older—but he hoped she would remain for a very long time.
She had always been more of a mother to him than his own.
The music swelled then, ripping him from his thoughts.
The little chapel’s door opened, and Marianne materialized a second later, a vision in.
.. well, he could not say she was a vision in white, for the gown she had chosen was not exactly white, but more like the color of a breakfast egg—ivory, perhaps, or cream?
He was no expert on whatever colors were fashionable these days.
Yet the sight made him smile. He had expected no less. Arabella had been clad in an impressive, over-the-top gown that had challenged fashion sensibilities at the time and had been written about more than their actual wedding.
He would have lied if he had not confessed that he had worried every now and again that perhaps Marianne was not quite as sensible as he thought.
That maybe there was a streak in her that desired all the things she claimed not to want.
But seeing her now, walking down the aisle as though she were walking to a regular Sunday service rather than her own wedding, reassured him once more.
Marianne was exactly what he thought she was. Practical, pragmatic, genuine.
She walked toward him, and when their eyes met, an unusual feeling stirred within him.
It was a prickling that started in his stomach and wanted to spread.
He had heard romance authors speak of butterflies in the stomach— something he had always imagined had to feel unpleasant, but that was not what he was feeling now.
It was positive. It was good. It was like a promise.
And he smiled, and for a moment, so did she.
However, when she stepped beside him at the altar, he saw her cheek twitch under her eye with anxiety.
“You look as though you were dragged here by a cart of oxen.”
She looked at him. “I sincerely hope I do not look as though I have been dragged through the streets. My aunt made quite certain to inspect the dress for any possible stains.” He had to suppress a chuckle.
“I meant you look as though you would rather not be here. Are you thinking of escaping?”
“It is quite too late for that, is it not?” she whispered back. “To escape, I mean.”
He shrugged, knowing that she was not actually planning to escape. “One can never say it is too late for anything,” he said.
“If I escaped,” she asked, “would you chase me?”
“I am not in the habit of chasing ladies, although in this case I might have to make an exception. I must say, I am growing quite fond of your wit. It would be a shame to lose that.”
They smiled at one another once more, and then the vicar began the ceremony. It was quick, as they had expected, and just like that, the two of them were wed.
The carriage ride back to Wexford Hall for the wedding breakfast was a short one. Lucien spent the time watching Marianne stare curiously at the estate as it passed them by.
“I did not know it was such a large estate,” she said. “As we drove here, I could scarcely believe it.”
“It is large. I shall give you a tour one of these days. There is a lake and—”
“A maze that is impossible to get out of, at least if my sisters are to be believed.”
Lucien chuckled. “I do recall your sister getting lost in the maze with Henry. I shall tell you a secret if you promise not to share it.”
“Of course,” she said. “Do not forget I lived in a convent. I know how to keep confidence.”
“Very well. He knew all along how to get out of the maze. He was simply toying with your sister. He likes to do that.”
“A mischievous little boy,” she said and laughed. “I must say, Charlotte was like that when she was young. She would do things of that nature all the time, especially to my aunt and uncle.”
They stopped outside the grand house, and Lucien exited the carriage. Behind them, the carriages containing their guests were making the drive from the chapel to the main house.
She looked at it once more, her chin tilting upward to take in the entire structure.
“Lady Wexford, welcome to your new home.”
She looked at him, her brows drawn together. “My temporary home, you mean. For that is all it is—temporary. As is this marriage.”
He cleared his throat, pulling his shoulders back.
“Of course. Temporary, as agreed,” he said and proffered his arm.
But as they walked together toward the grand manor house he had called home all of his life, he could not deny that the warm prickling feeling in his stomach had disappeared and was once again replaced by nothing but emptiness.