Chapter 18
Evelina was grateful that the wedding was not large, but still, she had anticipated more guests.
Her friends had joined her, of course, with their husbands dutifully acting as chaperones.
As Evelina stood at the front of the church, the vicar waiting patiently with his Book of Common Prayers, she wondered if her husband was a little intimidated.
It would be difficult not to be at least a little uneasy when most of the bride’s guests were dukes and duchesses.
Evelina’s own mother was the sole exception.
In contrast, His Grace had arrived with only a single man—the Earl of Murrayton.
Evelina wondered at the significance of that.
Had His Grace chosen not to invite the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury, or had the woman declined to join them?
Was it for better or worse that Evelina had not yet met this formidable woman, who seemed to be the cause of so many of her husband-to-be’s woes?
“Are we ready to begin?” the vicar asked.
He was a young man, who had an air of youthful enthusiasm about him, which Evelina did not often associate with the clergy. It was as if he had woken in the morning filled with delight to be in charge of the wedding ceremony.
“Yes,” His Grace said.
Evelina nodded. She had always found weddings to be rather dull affairs, and even though her nerves were shaken, she still found it in herself to dread the length of the proceedings.
“Dearly beloved,” the vicar began. “We are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate.”
It did not feel particularly honorable. Evelina fought the urge to fidget with her skirts. She was too aware of the drawers she wore. They were quite comfortable, and she had felt a little rebellious stirring in her chest when she put them on and gazed at herself wearing them in the mirror.
Was His Grace thinking about them? Evelina’s face grew hot as she considered the possibility that her husband knew what she wore beneath her gown.
No man had ever known that before. Well, she supposed all men knew in an abstract way.
They knew that ladies wore stays and chemises, of course, but no man had before known precisely what she wore.
Had the Duke of Rothbury seen her drawers once they were sewn and ready for her?
Evelina made herself focus on the vicar’s words, which was difficult because thinking about the drawers made that too-familiar heat stir between her legs.
“First, it was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord—”
At least, Evelina was accomplishing that, the first God-ordained purpose of marriage.
Even better, she would accomplish it quickly.
That was, unless something went terribly awry.
It seemed to Evelina as if she and the Duke of Rothbury were both assuming the best outcome.
They were acting as though it was a certainty that they would produce an heir at once, but there were so many things which might go awry.
What if Evelina could not produce a child for some time?
There were couples who spent years trying to produce a child.
Or what if she had a child, and the poor baby was a stillborn?
Evelina would be devastated if that transpired.
Would she have the resolve to try once more after experiencing something so terrible?
If she did, would the birth of a stillborn child fulfill His Grace’s conditions?
Evelina could imagine him casting her aside for such a slight, for men were always so quick to blame women for their misfortunes.
“I do.”
The two words struck Evelina with as much force as a physical blow would have.
She suddenly realized that His Grace’s eyes were fixed intently upon her face, and those words signified his agreement.
The Duke of Rothbury had just announced his resolve to become her husband in the eyes of God and before their guests.
Evelina’s chest ached, but she could not discern whether the tightness spoke of panic or concern.
She had married a man before, and the memories of that day—of the hopefulness that her husband might love her, that he might be kind—all rose up within her with such force that she could scarcely breathe.
Rationally, Evelina knew that her solicitors had agonized over every arrangement of her marriage.
They had considered every aspect of this agreement.
They were learned and efficient men who would not do her the disservice of neglect, but still, she wondered if this marriage was a terrible, irreversible mistake, one from which her reputation and self might never recover.
“Will you have this man to be your wedded husband?” The vicar spoke in his horribly excited voice, and Evelina wanted nothing more than to flee. She had even missed the sound of her own name. “To live together in God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you obey him—”
Ice sank into her veins. Obey him. She could not, or she would have no life of her own.
Evelina’s own contracts painted well enough her future as an independent woman, one who was in no way beholden to her husband.
Now, she was agreeing to obey this man. A sense of wrongness settled inside her.
Was she committing blasphemy if she agreed to obey and did not really mean it?
“—and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”
Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps for air. The vicar smiled indulgently, either not noticing or interpreting her reaction as the anxiety which a bride often experienced before a wedding.
“I do,” she said.
It was done. Not truly, but it was done enough.
She had committed to marry the Duke of Rothbury.
Evelina’s thoughts wandered as the ceremony continued.
She thought of her hard-won freedom, which was threatened by marriage.
Her mind was quick to name all the errors which her solicitors might have made.
It was even quicker to produce a series of unfortunate outcomes.
What if the Duke of Rothbury was a monster, only one who was adept at hiding his true nature?
What if he was unkind or neglectful? What if he could never produce a child and cast her out, blaming her as the cause of their barrenness when she was not?
“Now, I pronounce you man and wife.”
It was done. Evelina imagined that she heard a door closing loudly upon her old life as the free, brazen widow. She was a married woman.
Well, she was nearly married. Evelina would still need to sign the register. This was her last chance to flee.
“I do not imagine Odysseus’s wedding took so long,” His Grace said.
The remark was so unexpected that Evelina nearly laughed. “You cannot possibly know that,” she said. “It might have been.”
The register was produced, and Evelina pressed the tip of her pen to the paper. This was her last chance. Once she signed in the register, she would be truly wed to this man.
My mother managed to escape a terrible marriage, Evelina thought. I could do the same.
Even so, Evelina knew the separation was not easily obtained. She could not anticipate gaining one so easily for herself, and so, she must approach this marriage as if it was forever, just as so many other brides did.
“Shall I look away?” His Grace asked.
“Why would you?” Evelina murmured.
He stood quite near, peering over her shoulder. “Maybe you are ashamed of your penmanship,” he offered.
The remark did not contain his usual bite, and Evelina wondered if he was as uncertain about their union as she was. In a way, the thought was comforting.
“My penmanship is a work of art,” Evelina said. “Maybe it is your own handwriting that you are concerned about.”
“I will have you know that my handwriting is exquisite,” he replied.
“You would not admit having any flaws,” she countered, “much less in your penmanship.”
“That is untrue.”
She quickly wrote her name and handed the pen to him. The Duke of Rothbury grinned slyly and wrote his name in what she suspected to be a deliberately flamboyant manner. “See?” he asked. “Beautiful penmanship.”
“Wonderful,” Alexander drawled.
The Duke of Rothbury whirled around, appearing comically startled. Evelina suspected that he had forgotten they were not alone.
“If this ceremony is ever going to end, you will need to let the witnesses sign as well,” Alexander said dryly. “Now, may I?”
His Grace looked as if he wanted to argue, but he surrendered the pen without complaint. Alexander grinned and winked at Evelina. Then, he signed his name with a predictable flourish, doubtlessly determined to see Evelina smile. She managed to, but only barely.
It was not that she was displeased with this turn of events.
She had her husband, which meant that everything was going according to plan.
Even better, she had a husband who had agreed to do everything in his power to give her a child and quickly.
A husband who had agreed to all her contractual stipulations, which were admittedly numerous.
Still, she could not deny the icy dread that filled her veins when she thought of being bound to this man through matrimony. There were so many variables which she could not possibly consider, and it seemed that the longer they tarried in the church, the more she thought of.
“I suppose we will have the wedding breakfast next,” His Grace said, putting some distance between himself and the others.
Evelina hesitated only a heartbeat before joining him. “I suppose we will,” she said.
“A pity,” he said, so quietly that she was certain the others would not hear. “I can think of something far more enjoyable than the wedding breakfast.”
Evelina feigned a light laugh, as if the duke’s words had not made her pulse jump.
They would do it. They would really consummate the marriage and have a child soon after.
His Grace would do what he had in the study with his fingers.
The thought of his touch made her core ache, and Evelina pressed her thighs together to soothe the budding need.
“So eager,” she mused. “I am surprised, Your Grace.”
“Stephan,” he said. “You called me that when we met, and I think I would prefer that you use my Christian name now that we are wed.”
Evelina hummed. “I suppose I may agree to let you do the same.”
What could his motivation for the request be?
Maybe he was trying to prove that they were going to be a unique marriage.
If she pushed aside all her fears about what might happen next, Evelina found herself feeling vaguely as though she had entered a business arrangement, rather than a marriage.
In a manner of speaking, she supposed that was true.
“How generous,” he drawled.
“It is quite generous of me,” Evelina said. “Indeed, I am being beyond generous. I even indulged you and wore the gown you wanted to my own wedding. I am scandalized that you want me to remove it so soon.”
“It suits you.”
“Done!” Theodora declared.
Evelina looked to her sister and saw that she stood triumphantly beside the register, pen in hand.
“That is everyone,” Evelina’s mother added. “The marriage is finished.”
Evelina smiled. “Well, I suppose it is time for the wedding breakfast.”
And after that, she would remove that beautiful gown and those lace-trimmed drawers, and the Duke of Rothbury—her husband, Stephan—would consummate the marriage. At last, Evelina would know how that felt.