Chapter Eight #2
He was devastatingly handsome, though not in the easy, polished way of fashionable gentlemen who smiled often and knew precisely how to flatter a lady.
Anthony's face was too severe for that. Strong lines rather than soft ones; a jaw that looked carved rather than shaped, dark brows, storm-grey eyes, and the pale scar that cut across one side of his face.
Society saw damage when they looked at him.
Evangeline found herself seeing something else entirely.
He looked like a man made of substance rather than appearances, broad-shouldered and steady, possessing a quiet sort of strength that required no announcement.
There was nothing delicate or charming about him, and perhaps that was precisely what made him so difficult to ignore.
As their eyes met, the rest of the church disappeared, as did the whispers. For one strange moment, it felt as though only the two of them existed.
Then Lady Margaret touched her hand gently. "Evangeline."
She blinked. "Oh."
Slowly, they began walking. The journey down the aisle felt unreal. Faces blurred around her while whispers drifted through the church like movement through leaves.
Anthony did not look away as she drew closer, and when he offered her his arm, she placed trembling fingers against his sleeve.
The ceremony began.
The vicar's voice echoed gently beneath the vaulted ceiling while sunlight continued moving slowly across the stone floor.
Evangeline answered when required and spoke the words expected of her. Yet everything felt distant somehow. Because she remained so very aware of Anthony standing beside her. She could feel the warmth of his shoulder near hers and the quiet steadiness in his posture.
When he spoke his vows there was no hesitation in his voice.
Then came time for the ring. Anthony took her hand carefully as his fingers closed around hers.
She only saw then how large his hands were in relation to hers, and the touch of skin sent an unexpected shiver up her arm.
And then he slid the ring gently onto her finger. His touch lingered only a moment. Yet somehow she felt it afterwards.
The vicar smiled. "I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Evangeline looked up as Anthony looked down at her, and for one suspended moment, neither moved.
Then, slowly, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her gloveless knuckles in a display that was perfectly respectable, and at the same time, perfectly distant.
***
The wedding breakfast, which followed the ceremony, passed in a blur of voices, crystal glasses, and polite smiles.
The Duchess of Ashbourne had offered her own townhouse for the celebration, and the grand dining room glittered with flowers and candlelight despite the afternoon sun pouring through the windows.
White roses and greenery had been arranged along the centre of the long table while silver serving dishes reflected warm light across polished surfaces.
Around her, conversation rose and fell continuously. All of it, somehow, seemed to concern her.
Or rather. The new her.
"The Duchess of Blackwood."
"Your Grace."
"Allow me to offer my congratulations, Duchess."
The title followed her from one conversation to the next, spoken so often that it began to feel unreal.
Duchess.
Evangeline smiled at another guest whose name she immediately forgot and accepted congratulations she scarcely heard. Throughout the room, she felt eyes lingering upon her and Anthony. Society had clearly decided that their marriage represented the most fascinating event of the Season.
She caught fragments of whispers while passing groups of guests, but she did her best not to listen. Instead, she found her attention returning again and again to Anthony.
He stood across the room speaking with Sebastian, broad shoulders framed by dark coats and candlelight. He looked exactly as he always did, composed, still, perfectly controlled. As though his entire life had not changed.
Perhaps, she thought quietly, his has not changed nearly so much as mine.
***
Later, when musicians began arranging themselves near one side of the room and guests moved aside to make space, a ripple of expectation passed through the gathering.
Rosalind looked toward her with widening eyes. "Oh, it's time."
Evangeline frowned. "For what?"
Daphne smiled slowly. "The dance."
Good heavens, the dance.
Evangeline had forgotten entirely, or perhaps her mind had simply refused to acknowledge it.
As newly married husband and wife, they would be expected to open the dancing. Anthony had apparently remembered, because at that moment he crossed the room toward her. Conversation seemed to soften around them as he stopped before her and bowed.
"Duchess."
The title sounded strange in his voice.
He extended his hand. "Would you care to dance with me?"
Evangeline stared at him for half a heartbeat, then placed her fingers into his gloved hand.
The room parted as they moved toward the centre of the floor and the music began.
Anthony's hand settled lightly at her waist, and every coherent thought in Evangeline's mind disappeared.
Because standing beside him was one thing, but dancing with him was something entirely different.
He pulled her closer, and the scent of sandalwood and clean linen lingered faintly around him. She suddenly became acutely aware of every small detail she had somehow managed to ignore before.
She exhaled shakily, doing her best to concentrate very carefully on not losing her footing while Anthony remained entirely composed.
His expression gave away nothing as they moved through the dance with measured grace.
He did not look nervous or awkward. In fact, he did not seem to be affected at all. It was a little frustrating, if she was being honest.
After a moment he looked down at her. "You appear concerned."
Evangeline blinked. "What?"
"You are frowning."
She had been?
"I am not concerned."
One dark eyebrow lifted.
Evangeline sighed. "I am only attempting not to step upon your feet."
His lips twitched "That seems unlikely."
"You sound remarkably confident for a man who had never seen me dance."
"What makes you think that I haven't seen you dance?" he asked.
Evangeline's eyes widened. She had not thought Anthony had ever noticed her before. Of course, over the years they had attended the same balls, society charity events and the like. But she had not known he was aware of her.
The realisation startled her enough that she nearly missed the next turn, but Anthony's hand tightened at her waist to steady her.
"Careful," he whispered.
She looked up at him and was instantly aware of him all over again. Quickly, she looked away.
Then, all too soon, and not soon enough, the music ended.
"Thank you for the dance, Your Grace," she said.
Anthony bowed again.
As she made her way off her dance floor, she could feel his eyes on her, and she could not ignore the way it made her heart flutter.
***
The celebrations ended gradually as afternoon arrived.
Guests departed in waves while farewells and congratulations filled the rooms. Lady Margaret embraced Evangeline tightly. Rosalind cried openly this time, and even Daphne looked suspiciously bright-eyed before recovering herself and insisting dust had somehow entered her eye.
Then, all too quickly, it was time.
Anthony escorted her toward the waiting carriage.
The moment the door closed behind them and the carriage began to move, a strange quiet settled around them.
For the first time that day, they were alone.
Evangeline folded her hands together in her lap and stared out the window at London passing beyond the glass.
Beside her, Anthony sat in silence.
Everything felt unfamiliar because there was no carriage following behind carrying Rosalind and Daphne. No Everly House waiting at the end of the journey. No returning home.
This was home now, and there was no turning back.
"How far is Blackwood Hall?" she asked.
"About eighteen miles," Anthony replied.
Evangeline nodded as they fell silent again.
By the time they neared Blackwood Hall, dusk had settled fully across the countryside.
The journey north had carried them steadily farther from London's crowded streets and fashionable squares. Gradually stone buildings had given way to rolling fields and small villages, and eventually even those had begun thinning into wide stretches of open land beneath vast skies.
Evangeline spent much of the journey watching the changing landscape from the carriage window.
The farther they travelled, the wilder everything became.