Chapter 3
Charles
Sunday — First Banns
I stand there in my bedroom, my mind churning as the valet dresses me for services.
Something was off about Miss Campbell last night.
It’s not like her to be so quiet and sullen.
I dare say, she’s usually one of the leaders in whatever rebellious mischief should befall.
Could be because she’s been so well behaved, or rather no scandal has befallen the other wives, that I have not seen the need to punish her.
She is most certainly the type of woman who would thrive with a daily dose of pain and mistreatment. Thankfully, my breeches are already on me to help conceal the nature of my affliction to that thought. The fact that she still torments me so…
I suppose now that Lewis has his common bride, I am free to pursue Miss Campbell.
It’s high time I make an honest duchess of her.
That, and my family will certainly be fit to be tied.
I can hear my sisters’ excitement even now as they shriek out their joy of gaining another to share in this cadre of the weaker sex.
A ghost of a smile crosses my lips as the valet finishes with my dress for today. I glance at the mirror and nod. Resplendent, perfect for proposing a marriage.
My soul fairly sings as I come down the stairs.
Now that I am unshackled by the hypocritical burden my brother unwittingly placed upon me lo these many years, it’s as if each step is on a cloud.
Let him revel in his common-born wife. Let him enjoy the fruits of their matrimony.
Miss Campbell, at least, is from some pedigree of lineage and not simply married into it.
I can barely contain my grin as my carriage hobbles along the roads toward the church. The beauty in all of this is that Miss Campbell has no earthly clue about what will happen. Imagine the surprise when I finally make her my bride.
All that’s left now is to decide how I wish to do this.
Do I want to procure a special license so we may conjoin ourselves in wedded bliss, and I may finally taste the avenues of her desire that I have not allowed myself to feast upon in a far more timely manner?
Or, should I give her a proper length of time to prepare and decorate?
If my sisters have taught me anything, I know for a fact it’s better to let a woman fiddle about with her friends.
The wedding, unfortunately, is less about the couple and more about the wife showing off to others.
I suppose in this instance, I should tame my ardor and give her what I know she truly desires.
As the church comes into view, I shift about in my seat. It’s not nervousness that sets me on edge so. It’s an excitement I’ve never felt before. As a man always looking for adventure, I dare say, Miss Campbell will be the most enjoyable yet.
The Campbell family get out of their carriages right before me, giving me time to slide out and approach her father, Baron of Kirden, before services start. Better to have his ear now than to be a mess during service.
“Kirden,” I call out. “I would like a moment with you.”
Miss Campbell and her mother turn to me, staring as I approach. There’s something in Miss Campbell’s face, something that makes my gut clench and my heart twist. Despite what little powder is applied to her face, I still see the red splotches doing their best to shine through underneath.
Whatever can be wrong? She looks downright miserable. On the wings of that thought, another one, far uglier, rears its head. If someone has hurt her, I will hunt them down and make them pay.
Kirden nods towards the women, motioning them to go inside. However, Miss Campbell waits on the steps, staring at me with those eyes that make my soul light up into flames and my cock stir with wanton desire.
“Yes, Your Grace,” he replies, stooping into a low bow. “How may I be of assistance?”
“I was wondering if I might call on you this afternoon. I have an urgent matter I’d very much like to discuss.”
Miss Campbell’s gaze widens, and she turns, hand affixed to her mouth as if she is about to be ill. What on Earth…
But before I can divine a reason, Kirden grips my hand in his and shakes it heartily.
“Our home is always open to you and your family. Why don’t you have luncheon with us?
We would be delighted to have you. You all do so love my little Cynthia.
She is nothing but smiles when she comes back home.
It does my heart good to see her so cared for. ”
“That we do,” I murmur, watching as she slips inside the church doors. “That we do.”
We all take our spots in our family seats and make ourselves as comfortable as possible for the long rambling I know is ahead.
In fact, it is well known that servants dare not even so much as light the flames to prepare the food until a runner tells them it’s safe to do so.
Enough dishes have spoiled as a result of the long-winded nature of our local clergyman.
He takes the pulpit and looks upon us, his watchful eye squinting as the weight of his gaze touches each and every one. Eventually, he clears his throat and stands to full height.
“I publish the banns of marriage between David Edward Richardson, Viscount of Henhaven, of this parish and Cynthia Margaret Campbell, of this parish,” he calls out, his voice never once fumbling or stumbling.
“If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the first time of asking.”
I sit there, stunned as I replay the words in my mind. Surely, I must have heard incorrectly. Miss Campbell would have told us. Unless she herself did not know? But that’s preposterous.
One by one, my family and I turn to look at her. The poor thing seems absolutely miserable. She must have known. As I stare at her quivering form, I recall her inquiry into Henhaven. Now it all makes sense.
She knew.
My precious Miss Campbell knew.
And she said nothing.
If this does not warrant a punishment, then I don’t know what does. But then… she’s no longer free to take in hand. As of today, officially, she belongs to another.
I do my best to keep the sneer off of my lips as I turn to look at Henhaven.
If anything, the bastard looks almost bored, as if he’s not publicly betrothed to the most beautiful, maddening, intriguing, and funny omega The Season has to offer.
In fact, if he fiddles with his watch fob once more, I might lose all sense of decorum and leap across the benches to throttle the man.
As it is, I turn back around and place my hands at my side, clenching them as the clergyman drones on, speaking to the sins of lust. As if I don’t have worse sins already laid at my feet.
Wrath is the first that comes to mind. I’ve already killed for King and country.
Could my conscience handle killing for the love of a woman?
Next to me, my mother looks over and places her hand on mine, as if she somehow knows the turmoil writhing around in my heart. Her touch hurts even worse than the anger I endure. I cannot stand the pity of others, especially when they do not understand the full scope.
“It is no secret you favored her,” she whispers. “I do so find sorrow that you did not make your offer first. We will miss having her as a daughter.”
All I can see is red. The Alpha rage simmers under the surface, so close to boiling over. I have to leave. I have to take in some air. I have to quit this place before I sully it before God and man.
Even as I go to stand, I feel my mother’s hand graze my sleeve, as if to somehow compel me to stay. But I am beyond soothing. I am beyond coddling.
Miss Campbell’s gaze locks on with mine as I storm down the center aisle, doing my best to maintain an easy air about me. There will already be gossip, but seeing as I was once a soldier for His Majesty, perhaps they will think I have urgent business as opposed to petty jealousies in mind.
The whispers, however, pepper my skin as I cross by each row. Thankfully, from what I can hear, none of them suspect that I leave for want of an omega I can no longer have. At least it will keep scandal away from my family.
I pace about, watching as the others pour out of the church.
There, Miss Campbell and Henhaven stand as others go by and wish them well.
Though Henhaven takes it all in stride, a smile plastered to his face, Miss Campbell looks positively ill.
She smiles as he does, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
There’s no mirth in her expression, no joy.
As I go over to make inquiries, my mother and sisters rush upon her, babbling about who knows what. Lady Kirden stands there, stiffly, as her lips thin into a sharp line. Whatever it is they’re saying, she doesn’t seem to enjoy the conversation.
I make my way over in time to hear my mother speaking. “Now dears,” she laughs. “This is a special time between mother and daughter. She will, no doubt, wish for her to stay at home as she plans their nuptials.”
Honestly, as she should. It would be in rather poor taste for her to reside under the same roof as the soon-to-be new groom. My lips tease up into a smile as I shake Henhaven’s hand, knowing he will soon be ousted by my suit. What father would say no to a duke coming in to sweep away his daughter?
“Norhaven, is it?” he asks, his shake firm and his gaze steady. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have me at a disadvantage, for I know nearly nothing about you. Save the fact that you’ve swept our Miss Campbell up into a torrid love affair. Why, you must be so very much in love.”
Next to him, Miss Campbell looks as if she is about to cast up her accounts all over the church stairs. Henhaven looks nearly as ill as he slips a finger under his cravat.