by Rose Gordon
The minutes ticked by quickly as the minister spoke then turned to Lord Drakely to wait for him to repeat his vows. Juliet’s blood froze in her veins. Wasn’t he supposed to lift her veil before reciting his vows? Nervously, she licked her lips, and racked her brain. She’d only been to one other wedding and that bride hadn’t even worn a veil. Her heart started pounding. Fast. What did she do now? Should she—
An indelicate cough abruptly jarred her from her panicked thoughts and she snapped her head to the left so hard to look at the minister that her heavy spectacles nearly fell off of her face.
The minister let out another prompting cough, this one a touch more delicate.
“I―I―”
Taking mercy on her, the minister repeated the vows. “I, Juliet Anne Hughes;”
“I—I J-juliet Anne Hughes,” she stammered as panic settled into her chest. Her already mildly clammy palms were suddenly saturating her gloves.
“Take this, K Patrick Ludwig Ramsey, Viscount Drakely, to be thy wedded husband.”
Juliet fought for air. “T-take this, K Patrick Ludwig Ramsey, Viscount Drakely, to be my wedded husband.”
“To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?”
She would have blushed at the implication of those words if not for the current lack of blood in her upper body. Lord Drakely gave her hand a quick squeeze, and she whispered. “To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony.”
“Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; forsaking all others, keeping thee only unto him so long as ye both shall live?”
Juliet’s throat went dry. She forced herself to swallow. Her throat was still too dry to speak. Lord Drakely squeezed her hand again. Not hard, just enough to bring her back to the present. His thumb ran a line across the points of her knuckles, sending a chill up her spine. With yet another swallow, she licked her lips and in the hoarsest whisper she'd ever heard escape her lips, she repeated the vicar’s words. With each syllable uttered, her entire world spiraled further and further away from her grasp. Then, with the last word spoken, it crashed about her ears. She had truly married herself to Lord Drakely, and it was too late now to do a single thing about it.
In fact, all she could do was stand in nervous unease as the minister concluded the ceremony.
And then suddenly it was the moment she’d been waiting for all week. Lord Drakley was about to lift her veil. The only difference was, when she’d imagined it, she’d imagined she’d greet him with a smug smile. But now she couldn’t muster even the slightest hint of a smile as his large, gloved hands reached forward to unmask her.
***
Patrick fought to keep his face neutral when his eyes first connected with the face he’d just uncovered. He blinked twice in hopes his eyes were playing tricks on him. No such luck. He forced himself to unclamp his stiff jaw and swallow. Unsure of what else to do at the moment except to lean forward and chastely kiss his new “bride”, he did just that.
Steeling himself back up to full height, he grabbed her hand a little harder than he’d intended, and stretched his lips into the biggest smile he could force. He didn’t know what had just happened, but he’d find out soon enough.
“Smile, wife,” he prompted, making sure to add extra emphasis on the word wife to let her know he was not going to be played a fool.
As instructed, his new bride forced a brittle smile to her lips and stiffly nodded to all the villagers who had come out to witness their wedding.
“Let’s go,” he said tightly, giving her a slight nudge.
The two of them walked down the aisle past all the well-wishers and exited the back of the church.
“Pray explain yourself,” he spat as soon as they were out of earshot of the guests.
“I―I―”
“Am a fraud,” he supplied for her.
Grey eyes flashing fire bore into his. “I am no such thing, my lord.” Her voice was hard as steel, just like her eyes.
“Then how would you classify yourself?” he asked emotionlessly as the two of them continued to make their way to the Drakely carriage.
“Duped. Just like you.”
“Duped?” he repeated in disbelief. “I hardly believe that. But that’s of no account now. Your father has much to answer for.”
“And so do you,” she said cryptically before displaying her unladylike manners by wrenching open the door of the carriage then climbing in lacking a hint of grace. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she plopped down on the velvet squabs and crossed her arms with a huff.
“My lord,” called Mr. Hughes, walking up to him.
Patrick didn’t bother to respond verbally, he just stared at the man, daring him to try to make nice now that his secret had been uncovered.
“My lord, your man said you needed a word with me,” Mr. Hughes said uneasily.
Patrick scowled in Cruxley’s direction. That was just like the man to get himself involved where he had no business. No doubt that impertinent man found this whole thing humorous. “As a matter of fact, I do need a word with you.” He took a deep breath to help keep himself calm. “Please come to Briar Creek in an hour. I’ll be ready to receive you in my study by then.”
“An hour?” Hughes echoed, his uncommonly bushy eyebrows that resembled twin caterpillars knitting together between his eyes. “But I thought we were to go straight there for the wedding breakfast.”
Damn and blast! He’d completely forgotten about the numerous guests who were to report to his estate for the confounded wedding breakfast. He may have been able to get away with a quiet wedding in the country without having to invite guests of every station, but his daughters had most vehemently insisted he keep to tradition and at least host a wedding breakfast. Seeing no harm in it, he had agreed. Now he wished he hadn’t. He balled his hands into two tight fists, squeezing so hard his fingernails bit into his palms.
“Fine,” he ground out. “But following the breakfast, we have an important matter to discuss.”
Hughes blinked. “We do?”
“Yes. We do,” Patrick confirmed in what he knew to be his most superior-sounding voice. The churchyard was not the place to confront the man. His private study was. The only problem was keeping himself calm in the interim.
“Papa! Papa!” chorused one of his girls.
A sharp pain in the region of Patrick’s heart suddenly developed. How disappointed the girls were going to be when they found out the woman they thought was to be their new motherness―a term he’d coined to explain Miss Hughes’ new role as their mother and governess―was not the one in the carriage.
“Are you girls ready to go home?” he asked quietly.
Three heads adorned with beautiful raven curls bobbed up and down excitedly. “Can we ride with you?” Celia asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Patrick lied. He could see plenty of reasons why they shouldn’t. The biggest being they were about to have their little hearts crushed once they climbed up into the carriage and saw who was waiting inside. Of course he could always ride with the girls in his second carriage, the one he’d lent the Hughes this morning. But for the sake of appearances, it wouldn’t do for him and his new “wife” to be seen leaving their wedding separately.
With a sigh, he helped the three girls up and whispered to each of them that they needed to be quiet in the carriage. He hoped that would both stem their questions and keep them from vocalizing their disappointment about this unfortunate situation.
He twisted his lips in disgust as he climbed the stairs. Mr. Hughes may have thought to trick him, but Mr. Hughes and his daughters were in for quite a surprise. He may be a lord, but he didn’t give a pence about his reputation among society. He might have at one time, but having a family had taught him there were far more important things than gossip to worry about. One of those more important things was that his girls had a mother. Another was that they had a suitable governess. That,
however, did not mean he’d turn a blind eye to this deception. No, not at all. He’d get this marriage annulled on the basis of fraud, then pay a Bow Street Runner to scout out the best governess in England and offer to double her wages.
Silence filled the carriage as it bumped down the road. Glancing over at his three girls, Patrick’s chest puffed with pride at the way his daughters had obeyed his command for silence and hadn’t humiliated Miss Hughes…er…the current Lady Drakely, soon-to-be Miss Hughes again, by making an unflattering comment about her being the wrong motherness. At the same time, his heart constricted with the slightest hints of sympathy and guilt.
He turned his eyes back to his wife, and stared at her. Most considered it rude to stare. He didn’t care. Some even tried to hide their staring by lowering their lashes. He didn’t bother. There was no need to mask his curiosity. Whether she thought him rude or not, he didn’t give a fig. Besides, staring was the least rude behavior he could be expressing at present.
Before they’d climbed into the carriage, she’d said she’d been duped, and the look on her face both then and now made him want to believe her in the worst way. Perhaps she really hadn’t been a part of this, or at least hadn’t been given a choice in any of this. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl imaginable with her thick mess of brownish-blonde hair, stone grey eyes that appeared positively gigantic due to her excessively thick spectacle lenses, and her attractive but not beautiful face. Perhaps her father saw an opportunity to give her what she’d never have a chance at otherwise, and forced her to play the role. She didn’t strike him as the sort to deliberately take advantage of a situation. That much he could tell just by looking at her, and that’s why he suddenly felt a tinge of sympathy and guilt. Perhaps he should have treated her a bit better in the churchyard.
He closed his eyes, folded his arms, and slunk down in his seat. It was of no account now. He’d already acted the part of the beastly lord. He couldn’t do anything about it now except be more mindful of her feelings when he went to speak to her father. No doubt returning to her family home tonight would be humiliating for her; therefore, he needed to handle this as tactfully as possible. It was the least he owed her for being so nasty to her at the church.
His thoughts swirled together and trailed off as he relived those few minutes where he lifted her veil and saw her face. Once, when he was a boy of twelve, he’d gotten into a fight at Harrow and was delivered a swift punch in the breadbasket. Raising that veil this morning had the exact same effect on him. In one brief second, he’d gone from feeling in control of everything to having an empty feeling spread over him as the very air was knocked from his lungs. It was terrible.
But not as terrible as the anger that soon followed.
Unfortunately, he’d taken that anger out on the wrong person.
Or so he hoped.
No, or so she hoped.
If he found out she’d had more to do with this than he thought, he’d―
The carriage lurched and Patrick nearly ended up on the floor.
Kate giggled and brought her hand to her mouth with a loud smack in an effort to stifle her laughter.
It didn’t work.
Repositioning himself on the squabs, Patrick murmured an apology followed by a brief sentence about woolgathering. He snorted. Woolgathering was not the word for what he’d been doing. He’d been brooding and he knew it. He was at such a loss for what exactly had happened this morning and who exactly was to blame he could hardly think straight. But one thing was certain, by the end of the day he’d have the whole truth and would no longer be thinking in circles.
But until then he’d have to play the part of the happy bridegroom and host this blasted wedding breakfast.
After that, he’d get his answers and may the Lord show mercy on the culprit.
Chapter 6
Juliet exhaled. That did nothing to settle her nerves as she sat down next to Lord Drakely for their sham of a wedding breakfast. Never once had she expected to actually be sitting in the chair reserved for the bride of this particular wedding. She just hadn’t. She had assumed he’d raise the veil and put a stop to the wedding.
She’d also assumed that part of the ceremony would come before they said their vows.
There was nothing she could do about it now. She’d overheard him request a meeting with Father after the breakfast. Surely he’d inform Father he wished to seek an annulment, then she could resume her simple life again.
For the most part anyway.
She still bristled at the fact he’d called her a fraud without even hearing the facts. He was the one who ought to be ashamed of his behavior and deserved to be called demeaning names, not her. But all things considered, it was unimportant. The important thing now was to get through this meal then find a way to live through the rest of the day holding onto even a thread of dignity.
To her left, Mother and Henrietta chatted incessantly about the wedding, while, to her right, Lord Drakely was talking across the table with some cousin of his, Sir Wallace or something like that, about some other wedding which had taken place recently. One where Sir Wallace had been the groom. Just where was his wife, then? She shrugged. She really wasn’t that interested. She dropped her eyes to her plate. Neither conversation taking place in either direction of her held much appeal. She’d rather eat her meal in silence and occasionally catch glimpses of the guests who seemed completely oblivious to the tension between the new bride and groom.
Risking a glance to her right, Juliet’s gaze fell on her groom. He really was a handsome man even if his personality was a tad on the beastly side. Truly, he was a sight to feast one’s eyes on. Unfortunately for him, Juliet had never been swayed by a handsome face. Having grown up as what most would consider to be ordinary, she’d learned external beauty was the last thing a person should use to form an accurate opinion of another’s personality. Often, hidden behind some of the handsomest faces were the most rotten of personalities. To help prove this point, one had to look no further than Lord Drakely.
She sighed. Perhaps he didn’t really have such an awful personality. Mayhap it was just around her the beast in him came out. Both times they’d encountered each other for more than five seconds he’d been rather unfriendly. But nobody else seemed to think so. Or at least nobody ever said so.
“Are you going to eat, dear?” Mother asked, gesturing to her plate of untouched food.
“I’m not hungry,” Juliet said honestly.
Mother nodded slowly. “Wedding night jitters?” she whispered in Juliet’s ear.
Juliet’s face flamed. “No.”
“It’ll be all right, I promise,” Mother whispered again, patting Juliet’s arm. “There’s nothing to worry about. We all survive it.”
“Shh,” Juliet whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody could hear their conversation. For whatever reason, there hadn’t been an equal number of men and women to attend the breakfast this morning and as a result Juliet, her mother, and Henrietta all sat in a row with no male escort in between them. She inwardly groaned and wished she’d insisted Father sit next to mother. Oh well, just another thing to remember for the next time she got married. She was now up to three: one, make sure the groom knows who the bride is; two, the veil is lifted after the vows are repeated; and three, Father needs to be seated next to Mother at the breakfast. The first seemed to be the most crucial with number three trailing a close second.
Time crawled as course after course was brought out. After the fifth plate Juliet quit pretending to pick her way through food. Instead, she stared at her plate and silently willed everyone to just leave. If this was a real wedding breakfast she’d enjoy the company, but since it wasn’t, she wanted nothing more than for everyone to go home so she could, too.
At long last the final guest who didn’t bear the Hughes name rode off in a carriage.
“My study, Mr. Hughes,” came Lord Drakely’s cold voice, sending chills up and down Juliet’s spine.
With a slight nod
which seemed to indicate he’d understood, Father started down the hall behind his lordship.
Not wanting to be left out of this little council, Juliet followed, too, walking as fast as her heeled slippers would allow.
“This is a man’s matter,” Mother called after her.
Juliet ignored her. This was not a man’s matter. This matter involved her, therefore, she’d be right there in that room to hear it. She may have been outside the room eavesdropping for their first meeting, but she’d be in the room for their second. She’d make sure of it.
“Go wait with your mother,” Father said to Juliet wearily just before crossing the threshold into Lord Drakely’s very large and masculine study.
“I think not,” Juliet said defiantly, breezing by him and taking a seat on Lord Drakely’s plush red settee. “I will not have my future discussed without having any input.”
“What are you talking about?” Father asked, blinking owlishly at her.
Without so much as a glance in his highhanded lordship’s direction, Juliet bluntly stated, “His lordship would like an annulment.”
“Pardon?” Father and her hoax of a husband choked out in unison.
“I know you think I’m daft, my lord, but let me tell you a thing or two. In this family we speak frankly, and quite frankly, you brought my father in here to announce your plans to petition an annulment. Am I right?”
Lord Drakely stared at her unblinkingly. “Well, yes,” he burst out after a brief moment. “And I think I’m owed the courtesy of your compliance in the matter. Not that it really would matter one way or the other.”