Chapter Four
Manchester Square
Mayfair, London
Anne frowned at her reflection in the window of the downstairs parlor at her soon-to-be husband’s townhouse.
“Why is this happening?” she asked her aunt in a soft voice then frowned at her reflection.
“Because you apparently don’t understand what proper behavior in society is and what isn’t,” her aunt responded with heavy sarcasm in her tone.
“It wasn’t my fault. Mr. Cunningham was into his cups and lost his balance.” She refused to admit to the fact they were both in various stages of undress, or how much his kisses had surprised her.
“Well, now you’ve landed in a scandal that will end in marriage.” Aunt Mildred shook her head, and Anne watched her in the window. “The fact Mr. Cunningham was able to procure a special license so quickly speaks to his vast network of acquaintances.”
“Or of his guilt, and that’s why he knows people in high places.” Finally, Anne turned to regard her aunt with a frown. “I don’t want to marry him; he’s the man who killed Alan.”
“So you say. You don’t know for certain.” Her aunt crossed her arms at her chest. “This is your life, Anne girl. Your father is adamant, and look at it this way. At least this moves you out of his house, and you won’t need to see your stepmother every day.”
“There is that.” Because of the scandal that happened two days ago, her family was delayed in going to her father’s country estate. Not that her father minded, for having her off his hands and finally married would ultimately benefit him more.
At one time, she’d adored the woman who had previously been her governess… until she’d done horrible things in order to spend time with her father so he would ultimately bed her.
Aunt Mildred took Anne’s hand and squeezed her fingers. Their gazes met. “This might be good for you. Perhaps a catalyst for change.”
She snorted. “I don’t need to change.”
“Everyone can change, girl. Perhaps it’s time for you to find something else to dwell on, or perhaps you’ll finally find closure from your brother’s death with this man.” She shrugged. “Regardless, I’m hoping you’ll be able to find some good in your marriage.”
“I rather doubt that will happen.” And she was collateral damage in a case of revenge that had gone horribly wrong.
Because I’m rubbish at seducing a man.
“Well, take heart. The gown is lovely on you. At the very least, you’ll make an impression on your groom,” her aunt said with a tight smile.
“Thank you.”
Anne smoothed her gloved hands down the front of her gown.
Made of white velvet shot with silver thread, she’d originally meant to keep the gown for Christmas night dinner, but it would serve for her nuptial ceremony just as well.
In her secret heart of hearts, she adored pretty clothes, and since her father had closed his ears to her protests regarding the forced wedding, she might as well feel confident when she threw her life away on a criminal.
A sheer veil of white tulle lined with fine lace fell over her face, and she’d sprayed on the last vestiges of her mother’s favorite perfume to keep her memory alive.
The empty bottle was packed with her belongings.
“I think my mother would have been pleased with the gown,” she said in a whispered voice. Her chin trembled. “I miss her.” Life hadn’t been the same since her mother had died.
“Ah, dearie, she’d be pleased with you. And today? You are a Christmastide angel.” Aunt Mildred linked an arm with Anne’s. “Come. The ceremony will begin soon.”
Nerves fluttered in Anne’s belly as the butler—a man of indeterminate years with looks that would be instantly forgotten once he was out of someone’s line of sight—opened the double-doors to her groom’s drawing room.
She had a glimpse within, and aside from her family members, there were probably another five people in attendance.
How interesting. I never knew the “Duke” of Udolpho had friends.
“Do you want me to escort you to your waiting bridegroom?” her aunt whispered into her ear.
Anne frowned as she once more peered into the room.
When her gaze landed on Mr. Cunningham, her breath caught oddly in her lungs, for she hadn’t expected him to be so handsome.
Of course she’d seen him in his black evening clothing two days before, but today, he wore a different set and the tailcoat set off the breadth of his shoulders to perfection.
Despite everything that he was rumored to be, she couldn’t help but admire how the waistcoat of green brocade drew her attention to his flat abdomen.
Unfortunately, she remembered what his engorged shaft had felt like in her hand, and a host of shivers went down her spine.
Though it might be true that he was a devilish duke with a penchant for sinning, when her gaze crashed into his, the intensity of the hate and fury warring for dominance in those dark brown pools surprised her.
What was that reaction for? They didn’t know each other, and if it was because of the nuptial ceremony, it was hardly her fault. She’d been swept away with disturbing passion from his kisses, and since he was the one with carnal experience, shouldn’t he have been more careful?
There was no time to react—or even run—for a short, squat man with thinning gray hair came into the drawing room next followed by a much younger man who would no doubt serve as a clerk. Both approached Mr. Cunningham’s position.
The older man offered a smile. “You are Mr. Cunningham?”
With one last look at her, he nodded. “Yes.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Mr. Paddleton, the clergyman who will conduct your nuptial ceremony.” He gestured with his chin to the young man who’d come in with him.
“That is my clerk, Mr. Evans. The register will be handled by him, as will any questions you might have following the ceremony.” He took a well-loved copy of the Book of Common Prayer from the younger man while glancing at Anne.
“Good morning. I assume you are the bride?”
“I am.” Not by free will. “Good morning to you.” She glanced at Mr. Cunningham, who frowned at the clergyman.
Nothing in his expression gave away his feelings.
Was the animosity in his eyes directed at her or the situation in general?
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Paddleton, could we get to the ceremony straightaway? I’d rather not prolong the event.”
The man beside her nodded. “On that, I agree.” He shoved the fingers of one gloved hand through his carefully arranged black hair, disturbing the style his valet had no doubt labored upon. “The less we linger here, the more likely we can move on to other things… like drinking.”
She narrowed her eyes. Was he a drunk, then? An abuser? What kinds of vices and secrets hid behind the facade of boredom and slight resignation? With a glance at her father, she sent him a glare and hoped he’d feel guilty when he thought back over this moment.
See what you are pushing me into?
The clergyman cleared his throat. “Since the nuptial couple would like to begin, could the guests please find seats?”
As fabric rustled while the guests settled, Mr. Cunningham blew out a breath. “No time to enjoy these last seconds of freedom, not that I could do much, since I’ve already apparently taken the cake for scandal.”
Anne stifled a snort as well as a biting retort. At least she wasn’t the only one who didn’t want this marriage. Would it be a case of misery loves company? Time would tell.
With a faint smile, Mr. Paddleton led them toward the fireplace, where cheerful flames danced behind a decorative iron grate, for it was once more raining outside, and coupled with the December temperatures, there was a chill in the air.
“Any day that I’m able to lead a nuptial ceremony is quite special. ”
“Ha.” Anne tried not to choke on her fury, but it was quite the struggle.
She peered up at her husband-to-be, and in profile, he was quite easy on the eyes.
Why he’d chosen to sport a close-clipped beard, she had no idea, for it wasn’t the proper look for a gentleman about society.
Of course, she rather doubted he was a gentleman, but oddly, the facial hair suited him.
“Mr. Cunningham, Miss Courtney, please face me.” When they did, he opened his book to the appropriate page.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church… ”
Dear heavens, she had no interest in listening to the words of the clergyman’s ramblings.
Yes, they were probably the most sacred of words, but she didn’t want to marry the man beside her.
He was a rogue, a criminal, and quite possibly a murderer.
In minutes she would say vows to this man—a stranger—who she didn’t know anything about other than the fact that his kisses were quite potent.
That didn’t mean they should wed, though.
And what of her hopes and dreams that had nothing to do with marriage?
What of her work at the soldier’s clinic?
Would he demand that she stop all of her interests?
A frantic cry rose in her throat, and she quickly tamped it down. Why couldn’t she marry for love, as she’d wanted throughout her life? This isn’t what I want, not at all.
Her husband-to-be must have heard or suspected her distress, for he turned his head.
Mixed with the annoyance was compassion, and it was so unexpected, Anne stared at him a second too long.
What was he thinking? For that matter, what would he do when she tried to put her knife into his chest a second time?
For her brother needed to be avenged.