Chapter Four #2
Oblivious to her mental distress, the clergyman continued, his wheezing voice unfortunate as he waxed poetic regarding the holy state of marriage.
Once more, she attempted to concentrate on his words instead of casting up the meager contents in her stomach.
Thank goodness she only had tea upon awakening this morning.
Mr. Paddleton held the prayer book in his hands, the brown leather spine cracked and worn, while he addressed Mr. Cunningham.
“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?
” His lips curved with a smile. The poor sot assumed this was a wanted union.
“Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I…” The man beside her tensed as if he wished to run. But finally, he said, “I will,” he uttered and emotion graveled his voice.
Mr. Paddleton nodded. He put a forefinger to the words on one page as he addressed Anne.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?
Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love him, honor him, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live? ”
Silence brewed in the room while Mr. Cunningham—and everyone else—waited on her answer.
“I, uh…” She touched a gloved fingertip of her right hand to her thigh where the sheathed knife waited before curling it into her skirting.
I don’t have a choice. Far too many people at the ball the other night had witnessed her humiliation.
In a voice little more than a whisper, she said, “I will, though it’s anyone’s guess if I shall obey this man.
He certainly doesn’t command my respect. ”
A few gasps circled through the guests.
“What?” Mr. Cunningham gawked at her as shock lined his face.
“I won’t apologize for my words or feelings,” she whispered. “You have no idea what motivates me, or anything else about me for that matter.”
“Do remember this is a holy ceremony and shouldn’t be taken lightly or in jest,” Mr. Paddleton said as confusion shadowed his face.
He then instructed Mr. Cunningham to take her right hand in his right, which he then did, and Anne’s hand trembled with something.
She wasn’t certain what. Why am I allowing this to happen?
Perhaps it was easier than fighting. “Mr. Cunningham, please repeat after me…”
“I, Mr. Broderick Dante Cunningham, take thee Miss Anne Louise Courtney as my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death us do part…” Emotions once more graveled his voice, and she wondered what had happened in his past to make this difficult for him.
Then he cleared his throat “… according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth. ”
“It has been a long time since I have seen such emotion from a groom.” Obviously, Mr. Paddleton assumed the bridegroom had abundant feelings for her. “Please release hands. Mr. Cunningham, take her left in yours.”
Quelling the urge to roll her eyes, she paused with her hand held at chest level. For one instant, she thought she might slap him for his effrontery, but she couldn’t go through with it.
“Your hand, Miss Courtney,” Mr. Cunningham demanded in a whisper, and finally she gave it over with a soft huff.
Once they’d done as instructed, Mr. Paddleton trained his attention on her. “Miss Courtney, repeat after me.” He gave her the words, much like the ones he’d said to Mr. Cunningham moments before.
She frowned as she regarded the man she was marrying.
His pulse fluttered in his throat, a testament to him suffering his own nerves.
“I, Anne Louise Courtney take thee Mr. Broderick Dante Cunningham, as my wedded Husband.” Her voice broke on the last word.
A man she didn’t love or share soft emotions with.
“Even if it is under duress, for I certainly would never have chosen you willingly.”
“Neither would I have chosen you,” Mr. Cunningham agreed in a barely there tone. “But here we are, and this is now our life.”
“Perhaps.” Should she make the best of it without argument?
With a sigh, she focused on the clergyman.
“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, until death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance.
” A sound that was much like a choked sob came from her and she sought out Mr. Cunningham’s gaze.
Nothing about those deep brown pools gave her the slightest encouragement or comfort. “And thereto I give thee my troth.”
“So many emotions flowing this morning.” Mr. Paddleton grinned as if he expected betrothal bliss all along. “Please release your hands.” To Mr. Cunningham, he whispered, “Now is the time to offer up a ring and any respects you might have for my services.”
“Of course, for why shouldn’t I continue to spend coin on a woman I have no interest in?
” Bitterness dripped from his voice. He dug a ring from the pocket of his waistcoat, which he gave to the clergyman, who rested it upon his open Book of Common Prayer while Mr. Cunningham then followed it with a small leather pouch as payment and gratuity for services rendered.
Anne stifled a gasp. The oval-shaped ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds sparkled like mad in the anemic December illumination as well as the candlelight. “It’s lovely,” she said in a barely audible voice.
He nodded. “I apologize for it not having familial history. I simply procured it—and a parure—from a jeweler in Mayfair.” Embarrassment flitted over his face. “My history is something that should be forgotten.”
What did that mean? And why did she desperately want to know?
“Much appreciated.” Mr. Paddleton murmured a few words, no doubt as a blessing, before returning the ring to him while Anne removed the glove from her left hand.
“You may present the ring to the lady.” As soon as her groom slipped it onto the fourth finger of her hand, the clergyman spoke again.
“Please repeat after me, Mr. Cunningham.”
Dread mixed with a touch of fear down her spine. This was far too permanent. Would he hurt her, use her, break his vows to her? Or was it possible they might get on with each other given enough time? There were no answers.
“With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” His eyes flashed brown fire. Clearly, he wasn’t best pleased.
Well, neither was she. He didn’t have the right to fly into the boughs.
Not without her. A tiny huff escaped her.
“You will absolutely have no access to my body,” she warned with narrowed eyes.
“I didn’t want this union, yet I was given no choice, regardless of my own plans and dreams.” In a few tugs, she’d donned her glove.
“We have that in common. I didn’t want you either, Miss Courtney,” he said in a whispered hiss.
Mr. Paddleton frowned as he bounced his gaze between them. “Please kneel while we all pray together for this newly wedded pair.”
Anne kneeled, and when her arm brushed his sleeve as he did the same beside her, anger surged anew at the jolt of awareness that went through her from that accidental touch.
As the words of the prayer echoed in the room, she peered at her new husband.
His head was cast downward, but annoyance fairly seethed from him in waves.
She couldn’t blame him, for she was rife with an argument as well.
Then the prayer was over, and she stood. So did he.
Mr. Paddleton closed his book. “I now pronounce thee husband and wife.” Scattered applause broke out among the gathered guests. “If you’ll please see my clerk to sign the register, then everything will be official.”
Mr. Cunningham glanced at her. “After you.” When he would have put a hand to the small of her back, she darted out of range.
It was all too much. She turned on him with the heat of anger in her chest. “Don’t think to play the courtly hero with me, Mr. Cunningham, or should I call you the Duke of Udolpho?
” she hissed while the clergyman moved to greet the few guests.
She drilled a finger into his chest. “This marriage is in name only, and I will barely tolerate it. You can live your life while I live mine. Do you understand?”
“Like hell.” Anger shadowed his eyes, and the intensity about him suddenly sent a twist of fear down her spine. “It doesn’t matter how this union came about, you belong to me and are my wife. I have the right to whatever the fuck I feel when it comes to you.”
That took her aback, but tingles shivered through her lower belly.
Too shocked to form words, she desperately searched her mind for something erudite to say.
“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to discover which one of us will survive this union first.” If being wed to him was how she’d avenge her brother, then so be it.
With glances of speculation and concern, the guests filtered out of the drawing room for the dining room, no doubt to partake in the wedding breakfast. When they were left alone with the clerk, one withering look from her new husband caused him to scuttle out of the room.
“Don’t think to order me about, Mrs. Cunningham. I’ve done things in my life that would have you wilting on a sofa, so don’t trifle with me.”
“I don’t respond well to threats.” She should never have beckoned him into that library, but when he’d started kissing her, she’d been distracted, for such feelings had never beset her before.
Would she have done unspeakable things to him to make him relaxed enough to drive a blade into his heart?
Perhaps, yet both those intentions had been thwarted.
“So I can see.” He crossed his arms at his chest. “Why did you seek me out at the ball?”
She shrugged. The tension brewing between them was palpable and sent awareness racing over her skin. “You killed my brother.”
He frowned. “How is that possible? I don’t even know who you are.”
Whether that was true or not was beside the point. She curled a hand into her skirting. “Have you killed so many people that you don’t even remember them all?” To her mortification tears welled in her eyes.
Shadows went through his eyes. “My past is my own.”
“Well, now it’s our future.” She dug her forefinger into his hard chest once more. “I won’t stop until I see your life blood draining from your body.”
“And you in Newgate for murder?” He snorted when she sputtered. “You’re my wife. I’ll see you dead before you can draw your blade on me again. I am an assassin, after all.” Did he try to act like a prick, or was it his ordinary personality? “You’re mine to command.”
“We’ll see about that.” When she made a move to go around him, he caught her wrist in a vice-like grip. “Let me go.” A thrill twisted with fear down her spine.
“No.” With a forceful tug, he yanked her to him.
Holding her arm behind her back, giving her a glimpse of his surprising strength, he then claimed her lips with his, gave her a hard, punishing kiss that left her breathless.
When he finished, he finally released her.
As he held her gaze, he said, “I invite you to try your worst, Mrs. Cunningham, because you have no idea the fire you’re playing with. ”
The look in his eyes as he stormed out of the room left her gasping, and with fear trickling down her spine. Was he a killer, a spy, a man drowning in vices? What exactly had he done in his past, and lastly, could she truly end a man’s life?
Only time would tell, but the yuletide season would never be the same.