Though she might consider killing him if he ever decided to show up. Greg that was, not Brad.
Mary rubbed her temples vigorously. It was now five past eleven and the ceremony had already started.
“First it was ordained for the procreation of children…” The minister’s voice broke through her rapid thoughts.
She could see Madge peeking around the corner, anxious to see how events would play out. Probably not nearly as disastrously as she imagined, but the day was sure to provide more entertainment than any wedding ought to. That was if Greg ever planned on showing up…
Where was he? What the hell was he doing? Should it come down to it she would find some way to postpone the ceremony, but she couldn’t hold it off forever.
“Secondly it was ordained as a remedy against sin…”
No, she thought again after further consideration, she was not actually going to kill anyone, but thank God there was so much fluff at the beginning of the wedding ceremony. It gave her time to think and plan. And it gave her groom enough time to actually show up…
Well, the right groom that was. It wasn’t as if the wedding had started with only Mary. But the man standing across from her was not even close to the one she wanted. She would not marry him and she felt not a bit of remorse about it. He smiled at her, or at least he tried, but it was so fake, so self-important, she almost gagged.
But just almost. She would not give him the satisfaction. She couldn’t tell for sure but he almost looked disappointed.
He thinks he’s so smart. She couldn’t wait to humiliate him. And even better, he’ll never see it coming. She smiled smugly at the thought of what was sure to be her finest moment. Oblivious to the source of her mood, Brad suddenly looked very satisfied with himself.
She rolled her eyes as she gave a quick glance at the door. No movement.
“Thirdly it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort…”
Bloody hell, I swore I’d never do this… But it was the only option she had left now. She was going to count to three. If Greg didn’t show up before then she would resort to her final plan.
One.
Not a peep from the outside world.
Two.
Brad squeezed her hand possessively. This time she actually gagged.
Three.
She heard Brad ask, “What is it?” as he feigned compassion, while the minister, oblivious to it all, spoke, “Into this which holy state these two persons present…”
But still Greg was not there.
And so for the first time ever, Mary pulled a trick from the secret cache of a lady and rolled her eyes into the back of her head and pretended to faint.
As she hit the ground with a bone shaking thump she heard her mother gasp and for a moment she almost felt bad. Then she peeked at Brad though squinted eyes and thought—no, she looked again and was sure—she saw him roll his eyes before bending down to check on her.
“My dear,” the words were strangled with aggravation, “my dear, are you alright?”
Well, of course not you damn fool, I just fainted!
“Mary. Dear.” He shook her this time with a heavy hand but she kept her eyes closed tight as a vice.
The voices of the guests began to course through the room, causing the air to hum. Mary was certain their words had more to do with satisfying a hunger for gossip than and actual concern for her well-being. But even with all of the sounds buzzing about the room now, there was still one thing that Mary did not hear: Greg.
Hell, now what? Mary hadn’t thought this one through, although it wasn’t as if she’d really had much of an option or the time to make a more thorough survey of what to do. Yes, fainting had been her only option, but what would she do next? There was only so long she could keep this act up before she was required to give in, open her eyes, and stand back up.
But when she did—Damn you, Gregory Howard, where are you?—she would need to have another course of action in mind to postpone the continuance of the ceremony.
At least now she had time to think. What would be her next move? She would open her eyes first, of course, perhaps even try to stand up saying that she was fine. At which point she would become dizzy and then perhaps faint again.
What a God awful plan, she ruminated. Brad prodded her side again and she knew that if she didn’t move this forward and he touched her again, so help her God, she would throttle him. She sighed in her mind. On the count of three. One, two, thr—
There were voices in the hall. Very loud voices—screaming voices to be exact. And then something that sounded like “You can’t go in there” and then something else that sounded like “Let’s see you try to stop me” and then at last something else that sounded like a scuffle and a body hitting the wall.
The entire room went silent in anticipation of what would happen next.
Mary smiled. The door to the drawing room flew open and crashed against the wall.
“I object!” Greg coughed. “I have just—” He leaned over and braced himself with his hands against his knees and coughed again. He held up the first finger of his right hand to signal that he needed a moment more. “I have just cause why these two should not be married!”
Mary sat up abruptly. “What time do you have, Gregory?”
The gathered masses regarded Mary with amazement at her miraculous recovery.
“Well, I—what? The time?” Greg motioned both of his hands about rapidly. “I have no bloody idea!”
“Did you lose your pocket watch?” Mary pressed herself up to a standing position and brushed off her hands and smoothed out her dress. Brad mechanically reached for her, mouth gaped and speechless, but she turned her shoulder to him as she let loose a full body shiver with an accompanying yuck sound.
“No, I didn’t lose my pocket watch. I—”
Mary wrinkled her nose having only now noticed his disheveled state of appearance. Greg was dripping wet and Mary couldn’t be quite sure but she thought she smelled manure. “Are you certain? Perhaps you lost it while you were playing in the mud?”
“Enough of this, Lincoln,” Brad finally managed to say through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here? And why do you smell like a sewer?”
Without missing a beat Greg turned to his foe and returned, “Your barber recommended your after shave to me. Can’t say it suits me well.”
“I take great offense—” Mary clamped her hand tightly over Brad’s mouth and then thought twice about it. She pulled her hand away, quickly wiping it on his jacket. He didn’t finish his sentence, and his mouth was once again left agape in silence and shock.
Greg shook his head and turned toward Mary, “I assure you, my dear, that my pocket watch is safe inside my breast pocket, even after my romp in the mud.” He couldn’t help but smirk. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this but leave it to his Mary to engage in tantalizing dialogue no matter the situation.
“Then please, be a dear, and tell me the time.” She clasped her hands in front of her, self-satisfied.
Greg removed the watch from his pocket, opened it, and then squinted. It needed to be wiped off but any attempt to clean it with anything on his person was bound to do nothing but make it worse. “Does anyone have a handkerchief?”
Lady Brandon stepped forward and handed a cloth to Greg as she whispered softly, “What is going on, my dear?” She had a twinkle of hope in her eye as she finally began to understand.
“Yes, what the hell is going on?” Brad finally spoke up again.
The assembled group nodded and murmured the same.
Mary sighed heavily but before she or Greg could answer, the words “Oh shove off!” echoed from the hall. Muted chuckles garnered approval as Mary turned her head just in time to see a wide eyed Madge throw her hands to her mouth and run off.
“Thank you, Madge,” Priscilla called out. “I’ve wanted to say that for oh so long…”
More muted laughs followed that remark.
Greg chuckled too
before turning his attention back to Mary’s mother, “All will soon be revealed. But first—”
He wiped off the face of his pocket watch and offered the hanky back to Lady Brandon. Keep it she, mouthed. He nodded, snapped the watch closed and returned it back to his pocket. He directed his words to Mary now. “My girl, Mary. The time is 11:13.”
“Ah! Why yes it is. I thought the ceremony was supposed to begin at eleven?”
“So it was. Forgive me for arriving late. I was—”
“Playing in the mud?”
Greg twisted his mouth slyly. “Next time I shall send a messenger to inform you that I have been delayed. Or perhaps I will ask for you to join me?”
“Oh, please do. I’m not overly fond of pretending to faint.”
“That was an act?” Brad’s voice cracked as his face turned red with rage.
“Heaven’s yes! Do I look like the kind of woman prone to swooning?”
“I demand an explanation! This instant!” Brad was spitting mad, quite literally. “Lincoln—”
“You are early.”
The whole room silenced and directed their eyes towards the priest who had spoken for the first time since Mary threw herself to the floor.
“What?” Brad snapped the word, punctuating the “t” at the end.
“Early?” Mary and Greg echoed Brad’s confusion. And then Mary added, “Did you leave the room without us noticing? Because I think we have very clearly established that the last thing Greg is, is early!”
“No. You are early.” The priest shook his head and pointed accusingly at Greg. “You said, ‘I object. I have just cause why these two should not be married.’ But you are early! I haven’t gotten to that part of the ceremony yet.” He slapped his hands at his sides as if his rationale was perfectly obvious and valid.
Greg raised his eyebrow. “Does that really signify?”
“Oh yes,” the priest answered very seriously.
“Well, alright then. Get on with it!”
“Lincoln, you still have not explained—”
“Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak—”
“I have cause!”
The priest glared at Greg.
“You said ‘now speak’,” Greg mumbled.
The priest cleared his throat and finished his sentence. “Let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.”
Silence. Greg twiddled his thumbs and gazed aimlessly around the room.
“Greg!” Mary jabbed her fingers into his shoulder.
“What, Mary? Oh? Is it time for me to speak now?” The priest gave Greg a dull-minded smile. Greg recited the words, “I have just cause why they should not be married.”
“Way to sound enthusiastic…” Mary asserted.
“Well, what do you expect, Mary? I’ve said it three times now—”
“What does it matter—”
“—I’m dripping wet, I’m freezing—”
“—how many times you’ve had to say it—”
“—and all I really want to do is this.”
And with that, Greg wrapped Mary in his arms and kissed her deeply. And then deeper still. He had been waiting for this all day, all his life. People were watching, gasping, damn them all—this was his woman! He wrapped his fingers in her hair, he parted her lips, and he tasted her sweetness.
The priest tapped him on the shoulder.
“Yes?” He reluctantly disconnected from his love.
“You are early. Again.”
“Would someone just tell me what in bloody hell is going on?” Brad gasped and sputtered. “What do you mean you have ‘just cause’? And why are you kissing my bride?”
He made a feeble attempt to throw a punch at Greg’s head but he was so worked up the inertia nearly caused him to fall down.
“Oh yes. That. Quite a simple explanation actually,” Greg said. “She’s not your bride. She’s mine.”
“What?” This time Brad did fall down. “But we have a special license. We both signed—we are—we have been—we are betrothed.”
“Ah yes. Well, you did. And you were. But not anymore.” Greg put his hand under Mary’s chin and gently nudged it upward until she was looking in his eyes.
“If you would, my girl: right inside jacket pocket. They are wrapped in oil cloth so my romp in the mud caused them no harm. But I fear I am too filthy to lay my hands on them and risk ruining them.”
Mary smirked as she looked down at her dress.
“Oh, my dear—”
“My dress is of no importance. Only that you’re here and that you have these.” She reached her hand into his pocket, lingering slightly longer than was appropriate—but with how the day had gone so far, who would really say what was appropriate?—and retrieved the papers which she handed to the priest.
He flipped through the papers with an acute eye, sounds of hmmm and uhhuh periodically buzzing from his lips. At last he looked up and addressed the eager group of wedding guests.
“It is all properly in order. It is as Lord Lincoln says. He and Mary Cartwright are properly betrothed and free to marry this very day!”
“No! I will not allow this. You are my bride! Mine!” Brad’s eyes were wild with frenzy. He pointed an accusing finger at Lord Brandon. “You! You will not allow this will you? We had a deal. We signed a contract—”
Lord Brandon shook his head. “Are you not in the habit of reading what you sign?”
Brad’s face was turning purple as he realized his error. “No, I assumed—”
“Ah. Well, I’d advise you to do so from now on or you may find yourself in worse circumstances than a marriage contract that can be voided by the intended bride.” Lord Brandon was rather pleased with himself. “Besides, my only stipulation was for her to marry.” He looked to Mary for approval and she nodded. “I did not care who she married. I gave her a choice—”
“A choice? You mean you let her choose?” Brad’s voice was incredulous.
“As I said, I did not care who she married. My only stipulation was that she di—”
“And she chose me.” Brad’s accusing finger had turned into accusing hands with wild gestures. He spastically addressed Greg now. “She chose me!”
“Oh, Lord,” Mary murmured.
“I assure you, Lord Hampton. We have discussed this thoroughly already.”
“You knew?” Brad gasped.
“Yes! Yes!” Mary’s voice broke through the air. “Yes, he knew. And now everyone here knows. Can we just move on please?”
“No. No! We cannot move on!” His voice quivered as he vigorously shook his head. “You are mine!” He manically grasped for Mary’s arm to pull her away from Greg.
Greg exhaled deeply, annoyed that Brad was still here and he was going to have to deal with him, maybe even fight him off. Brad might be conniving and cruel but he certainly wasn’t strong of character and he was easily wounded. Greg had expected him to be off in a dark corner by now, quietly licking his wounds. Apparently though, his conniving ways came with a side of stupidity.
Greg reluctantly detached himself from Mary, ready to set his old friend straight, but before he even had a chance to decide what to do, he saw a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye.
“That’s for treating me like a lady.” Mary was on top of Brad, clawing and slapping at his face. “And that’s for not treating me like a lady.”
With one final blow she dug her knee deep into his midsection, causing him to eject a muted ooofff. Brad stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet, and falling backwards.
Greg pulled Mary into him, fiercely, covering her lips with his.
“You are—” the priest began.
“Yes. Yes, I know. I’m early. Let’s get on with it then.”
The priest smiled contentedly, and then opened up his prayer book to start again. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together in the sight of God…”
And the worl
d began to fade. The touch of his hand, the feel of his thumb—uniquely rough from work—as it rubbed against her palm, the tickle of his warm breath as it brushed against her skin; his spirit, his presence, the deep seeded companionship and compassion and caring, it all took her farther and farther away from this world.
In one fleeting instant, all else was gone; all else ceased to matter. They were together, they were one, two complementary pieces of the same puzzle. They made no sense when apart but exuded beauty and exaltation when together.
Even the drone of Brad’s ranting was drifting away into oblivion. She could no longer make out the words he spoke so hastily to his solicitor. She no longer cared and it no longer mattered. Nothing outside of this moment mattered. Nothing could draw her out.
And then it began to happen again.
There were voices in the hall, loud and yelling. There was a crash and a thud and the door flew open, again, with a powerful whoosh.
Nothing could stop this except another interruption.
Collectively—but clearly no longer in shock and ready to expect anything—everyone in the room turned to look at the door and the two tall men that entered through it. Their faces brimmed with determination and purpose and for one moment, Mary feared that they were here at Brad’s bequest to police the events of the day. However, a better look at their clothing revealed that they were much too well dressed to be hired thugs. Brad’s expression and reaction confirmed her final judgment.
“Bloody hell! Now what?” Brad yelled.
Greg fidgeted as if he just remembered something very important. “Oh yes. That.”
“Greg, love, what’s going on now?”
“He invited you here to humiliate me further! Didn’t he? To showcase my shame in front of my peers!” Brad motioned a welcoming hand to the two men. “Well, I say it will not work! Come on in. The more the merrier. This does not end here, Lincoln. We shall see who the humiliated one is in the end!”
“Bradley Barnes?” The tallest of the men spoke as he stepped forward.
“If you must be witness to my humiliation, the least you can do is address me properly. I am a Viscount!”
The second and bearded man stepped forward now. “That is a matter for debate.”
Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked Page 25