25. Chapter 25
The following morning, Annabelle boarded Sterling’s carriage, hardly able to fathom what lay ahead. Marriage—to Sterling Randall, Viscount of Stoneford.
Caroline, smiling ear to ear, joined her. The carriage lurched into motion.
Annabelle peered out the small-paned window at the wintry landscape, her heart in her throat. This was really happening.
Yesterday had passed in a blur, but had been, for all Annabelle’s misgivings over her groom’s stated reasons for marrying her, and the notable lack of affection between them—especially on his part—enjoyable.
Lady Caroline’s excitement over her coming nuptials buoyed her as nothing else could have.
Too, Babette’s delight over preparing her gown and planning her coiffure had been sweetly contagious.
Both women acted as if this union was something to be celebrated, and not a ceremony forged upon the hope of minimizing scandal. Combined, their encouragement almost caused her to feel a degree of happiness over the occasion. Yesterday.
Today, she was all nerves and uncertainty.
Without warning, Caroline crossed the aisle and plopped herself onto the bench beside Annabelle.
Annabelle turned to her, on the verge of panic.
Caroline sent her a gentle smile and took her hands between both of her own. “Annabelle, listen to me. Are you listening?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“I know you have your doubts. But you are an intelligent, reasonable woman. Ask yourself this: Why do you think Sterling moved heaven and earth to see your ceremony accomplished in such swift order?”
“He hardly did that,” she managed. “A simple donation sufficed to procure the timely marriage license.”
Caroline grinned. “I tell you, the ceremony could have taken place in several months’ time. Do you not wonder yourself what inspired his haste?” Caroline squeezed her fingers and sent her a blinding smile. “He does not want to wait. He does not want to risk you changing your mind.”
Try as she might to suppress the hope embedding itself into her heart like a seed at Caroline’s words, she could not seem to help herself. Hope, that perhaps Sterling had some small affection for her.
Of course, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt about his sexual attraction to her, not that she could say anything of such matters to his sister. But attraction did not equate to affection.
Still, it was something, she supposed.
“You truly believe he wants this, Caroline? That he wants marriage to me, and isn’t simply doing so out of obligation and honor?”
“I do.”
The carriage slowed to a halt in the forecourt of what Annabelle could see was a small chapel. The cab jostled as Chip, undoubtedly, climbed down from the box. In another moment, he’d set the carriage steps and open the door.
“Nevertheless,” Caroline continued, her expression grave.
“I’ve told you repeatedly of my belief that my brother very much wishes to marry you, Annabelle.
And one day, perhaps, you will come to believe this for yourself—when you know him fully.
But I have yet to hear from you whether this marriage is something you feel you can accept and embrace. ”
Annabelle answered without hesitation. “I must.”
“Bah,” Caroline said with a wave of one gloved hand.
“Only say the word, and I will order this vehicle to return us to the castle, after which you and I will make our speedy escape. Tell me, now. Do you want this? Do you care for Sterling in some small measure, enough to try to build a life with him?”
Annabelle sat back on the plush cushions and swallowed over the hard lump that had formed in her throat. No one had ever asked her opinion in such a way.
Granted, she often offered her viewpoint. But no one, not her brother, or her father, or even her mother, had ever asked what she wanted. In that moment, she would have gladly sworn a desire to marry Sterling if only to procure Lady Caroline as a sister for life.
But she had no need to lie. The truth was, she did want to marry him. Something had drawn her to him from the start. And it went so much deeper than his extraordinary handsomeness.
Something noble and intrinsically strong exuded from his very pores. Possibly, her fascination with him had begun before she ever laid eyes on him, thanks to an impression of him she’d developed from Caroline’s anecdotes, and, if she was honest, her brother’s snarky remarks about the man.
Or perhaps, like those shooting stars she’d glimpsed on the rooftop of Stoneford Castle, something more elemental and magical about him caused her blood to sing in her veins, her heart to race, and hope to flood her insides whenever he was near.
“Annabelle?” Caroline prodded.
“I want to marry him. I do.”
“And you really no longer believe him culpable in Gaston’s death?”
She hesitated. She’d been so certain at the outset…and yet, the more time she spent with him, the more she became convinced he did not have it in him to murder a man in cold blood for no apparent reason. “I do not.”
A brilliant smile spread over Caroline’s face. “Then, let us proceed.”
***
The carriage had arrived some five minutes ago.
Sterling was certain he’d heard the clatter of horses’ hooves as the contrivance approached.
What on earth was keeping Annabelle and his sister?
He should never have indulged Caroline’s whim when she’d demanded he refrain from seeing either of them again until the ceremony this morning.
He loved his sister, and he was glad to see her. Glad she seemed to approve the match—not that he would have changed his mind otherwise. Glad that she’d been here to help Annabelle prepare for today. Hell, Caroline was one of his favorite people in the world.
But it had not escaped his comprehension, especially last night, lying in bed, recalling the moments before she’d walked in on them in his bedchamber, that if she hadn’t arrived when she did, he’d have almost certainly made love to his bride and secured her agreement to marry him in one very satisfying endeavor.
Maybe several endeavors.
And yes, he knew that in doing so, he would have betrayed all his own scruples. A nobleman—a man with any honor whatsoever—would not lower himself to compromise a lady in such a way.
Well, he hadn’t, had he? But he couldn’t say with any truth that he was glad for the reprieve. If anything, he was beyond frustrated.
Now, if they could just get the ceremony done and over with, he could assuage both his scruples and, soon after, his unrelenting desire that seemed to be gnawing through his insides.
He would go after them on the count of five. One—
“Never fear, Lord Randall.” The vicar’s voice and the smile evident in his speech cut into his count.
He glanced at the clergyman behind him, standing patiently at the altar.
“’Tis quite normal for the ladies to take a moment to collect themselves. No need to worry that your bride has opted to flee.”
“I’m not worried,” he bit out. Not very worried.
An unmistakable twinkle shone in the vicar’s eyes. “I only wish the marquess were here to see this day.”
And why was Sterling’s throat suddenly tight?
“Ah.” Grinning, the vicar gestured with his chin toward the entrance.
Pulse racing for no good reason, Sterling turned to see his sister in the chapel alcove. Holding a bouquet comprised of greenery and colorful dried flowers, she sent him a beatific smile filled with such joy that he could not fail to return it. Then she hastened down the aisle toward the first pew.
Finally, Annabelle stepped into view, and his breath caught. She was so lovely in her rich velvet gown of deepest purple. Her blue eyes locked with his, and she sent him a tremulous smile before gliding forward.
A deep-seated certainty filled him—that she was here, and his, that this was right. And from this moment on, God help the man who tried to take her from him.
As Sterling had requested, the vicar kept the ceremony brief and concise. Both he and Annabelle repeated the requisite words, and in a matter of minutes, the entire affair concluded. Soon, the three of them filed from the chapel, climbed aboard the carriage, and set off for Stoneford Castle.
The three of them. He, his sister, and Lady Annabelle Randall. His wife.
***
Annabelle sat at the beautifully arranged breakfast feast that Lady Caroline—Caroline, she’d asked to be called from now on—had planned for the three of them and marveled that she was married—to Lord Sterling Randall no less.
She studied him through her lashes. He did not seem at all vexed or put out. In point of fact, he seemed relaxed and…happy?
“Well, then,” Caroline said, dabbing her mouth with her linen.
“I believe I shall take myself for a walk while the weather is fine, then I have letters to write, not to mention a new romantic novel to return to, which I began during my long train ride.” As she spoke, she pushed back from the table and rose.
As opposed to yesterday, when the conversation between sister and brother had left Annabelle feeling like an outcast, today she quite relished Caroline’s buffering presence. She couldn’t say precisely why.
“S-so soon? But you hardly…” Her words died as she glanced at the empty plate before her newly acquired sister.
Come to think of it, all three of them had nearly finished their meals.
Caroline loosed a soft chuckle, rounded the table, and kissed first Sterling, and then Annabelle on their cheeks. And then she was gone.
Minutes later, Nell and Chip entered the dining room and cleared the plates.
And then only the two of them remained.
“I understand a bottle of champagne awaits us in my chambers. Shall we go upstairs?”
She could not force words past her lips. She nodded.
***
Sterling followed close behind Annabelle, his gaze trailing over her as she glided up the stairs.
He took in the gentle sway of her hips, the elegant line of her back.
In particular, the tender skin at her nape called to him, where several wispy blond tendrils had escaped the confines of her chignon.
His fingers itched to trace the springy silk.