Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
Callie took a deep breath and stepped inside the church.
And stopped, horrified.
The church was full. Not standing-room-only full, but more than a hundred people full. Mostly sitting on the groom’s side of the church.
It was supposed to be a small, private ceremony.
Now she had more than a hundred witnesses for what she was about to do. She’d been feeling sick with nerves all morning. Now she started to shake.
The music of the organ swelled. A ripple of anticipation went through the congregation and a hundred faces turned toward her.
She wanted to bolt.
“Come on, Mama.” Her son tugged her hand. Her little boy in his formal suit looked so handsome and earnest and determined. Nicky was giving the bride away.
Tibby, her bridesmaid in blue, stepped forward. “Callie, what’s the matter?” she whispered.
“I can’t do this, not with all these people there,” Callie whispered back.
“Why not? It is the same thing, whether there is one or a hundred people watching,” Nicky said in a reasonable voice.
Callie had to laugh. Men started young at this. Being rational when the problem was emotional. It settled her. In just such a patient voice he’d explained to her that west was where the sun set. When they were standing in the sea at midnight.
“My wise, wonderful son,” she said and bent and kissed him on the forehead. He bore it manfully, then tucked her hand firmly in the crook of his arm and led her down the aisle.
He was happy for her to marry Gabriel, he’d told her when she’d first broached the matter with him. He’d thought about it for several minutes and then declared that Mr. Renfrew would make a very good stepfather.
His words had shocked her. She’d taken pains to explain that it didn’t mean anything, that it was just a formality, just a way of stopping Count Anton’s petition. Like a chess maneuver.
Nicky was very good at chess, she was certain he understood what she was telling him. He nodded seriously all through her careful explanation, and he thought about it for a few moments afterward. And then his intense little face had lit up, and he’d made his decision: he approved.
So here she was, marrying Gabriel Renfrew. He stood at the altar waiting for her, tall and solemn and unbelievably handsome, devouring her with his eyes; the sort of man who could steal a girl’s heart if she wasn’t careful.
Callie was determined to be careful.
She looked at the faces of the congregation as she passed.
On the groom’s side of the church the only person she recognized was Mr. Nash Renfrew, who stood there with a tall, unsmiling man. He stared at her with coldly assessing Renfrew eyes; Gabriel’s estranged brother the earl, no doubt.
She was curious about the few who were sitting on the bride’s side, and as she reached their pews they turned to look at her.
She felt a lump in her throat as she saw their faces.
Mr. Ramsey, Mr. Ripton, and Mr. Delaney stood together, the groom’s best friends, claiming the bride as part of their family.
In the pew behind them stood Mr. and Mrs. Barrow, dressed in their Sunday best, Mrs. Barrow in a magnificent straw hat lavishly trimmed with flowers.
She beamed at Callie and burst into tears.
Barrow produced a handkerchief and handed it to her, and Mrs. Barrow leaned against him and sighed gustily at the bride.
How wonderful it must be to have a marriage like that, to love for a lifetime.
A woman in a magnificent purple turban turned: it was Lady Gosforth, clutching a wisp of lace to her eye and beaming at Callie. She looked as proud and as happy as if she were Callie’s own mother.
Sitting with her was a group of other ladies, Lady Gosforth’s circle of intimate friends. She recognized their faces. She’d met them once or twice in the last few days. She couldn’t even remember their names.
And yet, here they were, these ladies, pillars of the ton, come to see her married, sitting on her side of the church, and smiling, moist-eyed, at the bride as if she weren’t some stranger with no family, but one of their own.
Callie managed a misty smile back. Her eyes blurred with tears. Such kindness…Such kindness…
And then they were at the end of the aisle and he stood there, Gabriel Renfrew, hand outstretched, watching her, waiting to claim her hand.
His gaze caressed her, then he looked at her son and gave him a small nod of approval. Nicky’s chest puffed out proudly as he bowed and stepped back.
More tears prickled at her lashes. Gabriel would make a very good stepfather. But it could not to be. Her future, eventually, was back in Zindaria, as mother to the prince. He had property and friends and family here.
Behind him stood his brother Harry, his best man, looking somber. He had the Renfrew eyes, too, except his were gray, like the earl’s. Harry caught Nicky’s eye and winked. Callie felt a rush of gratitude at the easy acceptance these men had given Nicky.
Gabriel took her trembling hand in his and they stepped forward to be married. His hand was warm and a little damp. She glanced at him. Surely he was not nervous, too?
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together…”
Her thoughts drifted.
“First, it was ordained for the procreation of children…”
Children. There would be no children of this union. A paper marriage. Paper children.
“Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication…”
She stared at the hand that held hers so firmly, his large thumb rubbing back and forth across her skin.
She heard Gabriel saying his vows, “…To have and to hold…to love and to cherish…”
She didn’t want to listen. Paper vows, false promises.
And then it was her turn to repeat after the minister: “I, Caroline Serena Louise, take thee, Gabriel Edward Fitz-paine Renfrew, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to”—mumble—“cherish, and to”—mumble—“till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth. ”
The minister looked at her and frowned. She’d mumbled the love and obey bits so they were quite unintelligible.
She gave Gabriel a rueful glance. His lips were tight. She’d warned him she wasn’t going to promise to love and obey him. She took her promises seriously. Even paper vows.
Fulfilling a promise to love a husband had broken her heart once; she wasn’t going to do it again. Especially not for a chess-maneuver wedding.
It wasn’t her fault that a hundred people were there to see her embarrass her new husband. She hadn’t intended anyone except Gabriel and the minister to hear. She hoped they hadn’t; she’d spoken all her vows in a soft voice.
The minister looked a silent query at Gabriel.
He gave a terse shake of his head, and the minister gave a small shrug and continued. He finished the ceremony quickly. Callie was so relieved she almost missed “You may kiss the bride.”
Gabriel turned toward her and for the longest moment stared at her with an odd, intense expression. Then he lifted her clear off her feet and kissed her full on the mouth in front of everyone. It was a proud, possessive kiss, a public claiming, a promise.
It shook her, to have him kiss her like that, so unguardedly, with passion, in a church, in front of a hundred witnesses.
It was supposed to be a paper wedding.
Wasn’t it?
After the wedding, in a move that surprised the groom as well as the bride, everyone present was invited back to Alverleigh House for a wedding breakfast—even though it was already early evening.
Everyone except the bride, the groom, and the groom’s best man, his brother Harry, had known about it.
It turned out that Lady Gosforth, the earl of Alverleigh, and his brother Nash Renfrew had organized the whole day.
Between them they’d managed to entice some of the most influential people in London to the wedding.
Nash had explained to Callie why: the more important people who could put pressure on the government to deny Count Anton’s claim, the better.
The day had been full of surprises and Callie was resigned to it. There had been a complete takeover of her small, private ceremony and there was nothing she could do. Besides, it was all for Nicky’s benefit, so who could argue or resist such wonderful kindness?
Several times she caught herself wishing it could all be real. She stomped on those thoughts.
Gabe and Harry were furious with the earl for taking over and hosting the reception. “Typical high-handed arrogance,” Gabe fumed to Nash. “Tell him I won’t be patronized by him and I’m damned if I’ll dance to his tune.”
“It’s a peace offering, Gabriel,” Nash told him. “An apology for past wrongs.”
“I don’t need his—”
“It’s a public declaration of support for your wife. Everyone in the church will be there to meet the princess.”
Gabe shut his mouth and glared at Nash. Damned slippery diplomat. He’d said the one thing that could stop Gabe from snubbing the earl publicly.
He glanced at Harry, who shrugged. “No choice, Gabe. You know it. Outflanked and outgunned.” He turned to Nash and said, “But that doesn’t mean that I have to go.”
Gabe grabbed him hard by the elbow. “Oh yes, you do, dammit, Harry. If I have to swallow my pride, so do you.”
Harry made to pull away, but then he met Gabe’s eye, sighed, and accepted his fate.
It was quite late by the time the last of the wedding guests left Alverleigh House.
The servants had cleared up and melted discreetly away.
Now there just remained Gabe’s friends, his brothers, and Aunt Maude.
Miss Tibthorpe and Ethan had taken the little boys back to Aunt Maude’s sometime earlier.
Gabe looked at his bride. She was looking distinctly sleepy.
He rose and held out his hand to her. “Shall we depart, my dear?”