An Unsuitable Match

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An Unsuitable Match Page 2

by Glint, Chloe


  Chapter Three

  The carriage drew to a stop just outside of York's main inn, a fat little building with a small garden. At the sight of the inn, Camille's heart ached and her palms grew sweaty. How did we get here so quickly? It felt as though the last few days had just slithered away from her. Her fear must have shown on her face because her sister reached out and grabbed her hand. She let out a groan of fear, which made her mother shoot her a reproving glare. She ignored this. Her mother acted so coldly this entire trip that she had begun to wonder whether the woman even remembered what it felt like to be young and on the way to be married.

  As Camille tried to control her emotions and failed, the carriage driver opened the door for them. Her father clambered out first, then her mother followed. She ended up shadowing Gabrielle and left the carriage last.

  The city of York was bustling and filled with strange sights and smells. People in tattered clothes stood outside of broken-down carts holding out wooden plates of food. A man in gypsy's clothes stumbled out from an alley with a woman as pale as snow at his side. They appeared happy together, though the sight of a girl with red eyes alarmed her. Several women walked down the street, one of which Camille was certain was a prostitute.

  "How horrible." Her mother shook her head in disgust. "Come on, Camille. Let's get you inside. Sir Kale is bound to arrive at any moment."

  She nodded, struck with excitement. "So I will get to see him now?"

  "Don't be silly." Her mother shook her head. "You won't see the man before you get married tomorrow. I just want you to come inside. Come, come."

  Her stomach sunk. She wouldn't even get to meet her fiancé?

  "Can I at least meet him, so I can tell Camille what he's like?" Gabrielle asked earnestly, restoring some of Camille's hope.

  "Yes, of course," her father said. "Now move along."

  Feeling at least a little better, she followed after her parents and went inside.

  ****

  When Kale approached the inn with his mother and father, his heart thundered in excitement and nervousness. He had never met a woman as beautiful as Gabrielle, and now he got to take her as his bride. He could not believe this was happening. In fact, he was so overwhelmed that he had trouble thinking complete thoughts. His mother grabbed his arm, and he realized that in his alarm, he had stopped moved.

  "Idiot, boy," his father said. "Keep going. And don't embarrass me today. I don't know how you could be as old as you are without having the ability to speak to women. You always manage to make a fool of yourself."

  Kale came to his senses and headed toward the door of the inn shadowing his parents. He followed them inside. The inn was quaint, not befitting for a woman such as Gabrielle. Housing a woman like Gabrielle in such a place was like forcing the goddess Athena to live in a shed. His father must have had a similar opinion because he wrinkled his long nose at the wooden floor as if it was soiled with human filth. The man looked up just as a squat redheaded woman with a plain face walked into the room holding a broom.

  "Oh, hello." The woman's eyes widened, perhaps due to the sight of their fine clothes. "Are you here for a room?"

  "Here?" His father's gaze hardened. With how he spoke, it was as though he had been asked if he wanted to sleep in an outhouse. "Unfortunately, yes. I am here to visit with Sir Douglas of Charleston and his wife."

  "I see." Color tainted the woman's cheeks. "They mentioned you would be arriving for a visit shortly. Please let me escort you to the sitting room. We allow guests to use it when they have visitors."

  His father nodded, his mouth thin. The woman appeared both taken aback and affronted because her pale eyebrows rose higher and higher. Kale wondered whether they would eventually disappear completely beyond her hairline. Whether they actually would or not remained a mystery, since the woman turned around and beckoned them to follow her. Kale and his parents were led down a hallway with fine mahogany floors and into a small room with several small tables decorated with lavender colored flowers. Windows opened to the streets. The walls were decorated with romantic paintings of young men and women sitting together with adoring looks on their faces. For just a moment, he had a fleeting vision of him and Gabrielle sitting together in a similar scene, leaning against one another and smiling. The thought was swept away by his father clearing his throat and glancing around the room.

  "Do you like the room?" the woman asked. "It is the pride of this inn."

  His father appeared to struggle to find something pleasant to say. "It's suitable for its purpose."

  The woman's face fell as if his father had said it was the most horrid place he had ever set eyes on. She muttered something beneath her breath but forced a smile on her face. Her cheeks became even pinker from the effort of smiling.

  "I shall go fetch Sir Douglas of Charleston," the woman said. "I can have our maid bring tea for your gathering, if you wish. Would you fancy a cup?"

  "What kind of tea?" his father asked.

  "Kind?" The woman's mouth fell open, but then she slammed it shut again. "My apologies, sir, but I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean. Tea is tea."

  "That is something only a commoner would say." His father frowned, lips puckered. "Since you don't know what type of tea, it is likely something awful purchased from a cart down the street."

  With a gasp, the woman grasped her chest. Kale had to give the woman credit, though. She recovered quickly. Before his father could affront her further, she scuttled from the room and shut the door behind her. Kale had been around his father too long to be embarrassed. The man thought that manners were only applicable when it came to his own class or those of higher standing. His mother tutted in disapproval, but she did not say anything. She wisely saved her battles for what was important to her. Like keeping her son, for instance.

  "What a horrid, horrid place," his father said, interrupting Kale's thoughts. "I am surprised that anyone could stay here. I'm getting a headache. She doesn't know the type of her own tea? Honestly?"

  With his lips still thin, his father sat down at the table and massaged his temple. Kale and his mother exchanged glances, then he sat down too. He just hoped that his father wouldn't put on a show like this in front of Gabrielle. The man had managed to offend even priests with his behavior. He didn't want his marriage to be run amuck.

  Scowling, Kale crossed his legs. Some minutes oozed past. His nerves began to get the better of him again now that his father wasn't berating the establishment. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. The tips of his fingers tingled. He wrung his hands, trying to chase the feelings away. His father scowled at him but said nothing. It felt like ten thousand years had gone by before he heard the sound of footsteps outside of his door.

  "Now, Gabrielle, you mind yourself and don't over speak," he heard somebody say. Likely it was Gabrielle's father.

  "That's right," said a second voice. Gabrielle's mother, perhaps. "You behave. Don't speak unless you're spoken too, and even then, don't say much."

  "Why?" said Gabrielle, her voice heavenly even annoyed. "I want to ask him questions. How else will I have anything to tell Camille?"

  "Don't mention Camille!" said Gabrielle's father.

  "Alright." Gabrielle heaved a massive sigh. "Though I don't understand why. Isn't this meeting about—"

  "Shush, shush," Gabrielle's father said.

  Silence fell. Somebody jiggled the doorknob. His heart sped up and he suddenly had the urge to vomit. The door opened and Gabrielle's parents walked in behind the same redheaded woman as before. Gabrielle trailed behind the two of them. When the girl came into the room, his mouth went dry and he could not recall how to breathe. Had Gabrielle's eyes always been such a marvelous shade of blue? Her pale skin, as fair as a winter snow, made him long to reach out to touch her. She was so gorgeous she didn't look real. She was like a doll that could talk.

  Whatever doubt he had about the voices belonging to Gabrielle's parents faded away at that moment as well. Gabrielle's mother, Cecile, w
as as fair as her daughter. The woman's hair was just as golden but curly, as if the sun's rays of light were spiraling out of control. Cecile's eyes were large and a deep blue. She was thin with high cheek bones. It was like he was looking into Gabrielle's future. The one who looked the least like Gabrielle was the girl's father, Douglas, who was tall with dark brown hair and a strong jaw. His skin was olive. He was highly masculine, making the marriage partnership pristine. He was masculine while his wife was feminine. Their union together had produced perfection in Gabrielle.

  The trio of them stood in the room as the redheaded woman left without saying a word. Likely she was afraid of Kale's father. Upon the woman's exit, the three sat upon wooden chairs. Because the table was so small, Kale was squashed against Gabrielle's mother. Luckily, the woman smelled as good as she looked, of wild flowers and sweet wine. He was disappointed that Gabrielle did not sit next to him, but perhaps it was a good thing. Suddenly, her beauty was blinding and he could not manage to as much as look at the girl.

  "Hello," Douglas said. "I have spoken with you many times by letter but never in person. My name is Sir Douglas of Charleston. This is my wife, Cecile of Charleston. And of course you know my daughter, Gabrielle."

  "Where's Camille?" his father asked, not bothering with introductions. It was just as well. Everyone in the room likely knew his name was Sir Thomas.

  Kale looked up, eyes wide. Camille? He knew both Cecile and Douglas from the letters, but the name Camille had never been spoken of. No one was missing. At least, as far as he knew. His mother appeared equally confused because her lips puckered.

  "Camille is in her room," Douglas said carefully, as if he was having trouble finding his words.

  "She's well, though, I trust?" his father asked.

  "She's excited," Gabrielle chimed in.

  Both Douglas and Cecile turned harsh gazes upon their daughter. She shrunk beneath their stares. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He may not know who Camille was, but he did know he would never treat his wife in such a manner. She would be spoiled every day of her life. Desperate to break the tension—and the gaze of Gabrielle's parents—he sloppily tried to find a reason to speak to his future bride.

  "Perhaps you would like some tea while we talk, Gabrielle," Kale said. "The lady offered to make us some."

  Gabrielle nodded. Eager to please her, he stood up abruptly and knocked into the table. His overexcitement cost him. The vase of purple flowers tipped over and spilled water straight onto Gabrielle. She shrieked, jumping to her feet, drenched from head to toe. His stomach sunk and his eyes widened in horror. Both Cecile and Douglas leapt up too.

  "My dress, Father." Gabrielle shook her head in despair. "My new dress that I just got from Paris. I will never find another one like it. Never."

  "We'll clean it, Gabrielle," Cecile said. "Calm down."

  But Gabrielle continued to stomp her feet and shake her golden head. The sight of her drenched with water with her lips puckered brought him such shame that he became claustrophobic. He rushed from the room. He heard his father yelling behind him, but he did not care. He had shamed himself, had shamed everyone.

  ****

  Pouting, Camille stood in the garden with her gaze straight ahead. She hated the fact that Gabrielle was allowed to meet her betrothed but not her. As she kicked a rock in her frustration, she heard the sound of the door opening behind her. A man rushed out in a fine suit of silk with his face the color of porridge. At first the man was too pale for her to recognize him, but then she realized who it was. This was the man she was to marry. She was so shocked she gasped.

  "Sir Kale, is it?" Camille whispered.

  Kale jumped. It took her a moment to realize that he had not known she was there. He didn't appear too pleased to see her either. He was shaking and his lips were thin. Her stomach sunk. Maybe he was having second thoughts about their marriage which was why he was quivering so badly.

  "Are you alright?" Camille asked. "You don't look well. Please tell me you're alright. Tell me that you're not…"

  Having second thoughts, Camille thought. Kale didn't appear to know what to make of her. He paced back and forth, lips thin.

  "You know me?" Kale asked.

  "Of course I know you!" Camille's heart leapt. "I recognize you from your portrait that you sent."

  "Oh." Kale froze. "I get it. Camille. You're here for the wedding."

  Now Kale wasn't even talking coherently. Of course she was here for the wedding. It was her wedding. What was Kale getting at? She didn't understand.

  "Of course I am," Camille said. "What happened? You're white and shaking."

  At first, Kale did not say anything, but she noted that his breathing grew rushed. She had seen something similar in her pet rabbit when it was frightened by a predator. Her betrothed groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

  "I embarrassed myself and a lady too," Kale said.

  Though Camille knew it was horrid of her, she was warmed by relief when she realized that Kale was not having second thoughts about the wedding. She'd invested so much of her heart into their marriage she didn't know how she would take it if he changed his mind. I wonder what caused him such embarrassment, Camille thought, brow furrowing. Moments before he'd been meeting with her parents and her sister.

  "What happened?" Camille asked.

  "I mean no disrespect, but I hardly know you." Kale kicked at the dirt. "I don't know if I should speak to you about it."

  The words were an arrow straight to her heart. In his letters to her father, Kale had sounded so warm. She took a step back and hung her head.

  "I suppose that is correct." Camille bit her bottom lip. "My apologies."

  Kale's eyes widened and he blew out a sigh. "I offended you now too, didn't I? I didn't mean it. I just offended someone I feel greatly for and now somebody else as well. Forgive me? Today just doesn't seem to be my day."

  The words applied salve on Camille's wounded heart, though it did not soothe her wound completely. She nodded, then turned away from him. A moment passed and Kale placed his hand on her shoulder. His fingers were warm and sent shooting tingles throughout her limbs.

  "I really am sorry," Kale said.

  "It's alright." Camille shrugged.

  Both of them fell silent, but Kale did not remove his hand. Camille wondered whether he had forgotten he'd laid it there. Either way, she had no urge to make him move it. As the two of them stood together, the door behind them opened.

  "Boy, there you are!" barked a loud-voiced man. "You humiliated me and your new family. You're lucky the wedding is still on. You're like a frightened woman, not a man."

  Kale hung his head and removed his hand from her shoulder. She turned to see a tall, thin man with chestnut hair and a full beard. The man wore fine clothes and maintained an air of aristocracy. Worse yet, his icy eyes were focused on her as if he were sizing her up. Then she realized why. This man was Kale's father. Though he had none of his son's good looks, the hair and jaw were the same. Her stomach sunk. She grew more frightened of her move to York than before. She prayed she wouldn't be forced to spend time with such a person.

  "You're Camille?" Kale's father asked, softening his voice, though not much.

  She shivered. "Yes, sir."

  "Hmmmm." Kale's father looked her up and down. "Yes, you'll do. You'll do just fine."

  "Do for what?" Camille asked.

  The man did not even bother to give her an answer. Instead he seized Kale's arm and dragged him out of the garden. She was left standing alone, feeling more confused and anxious than she could ever remember being in her entire life.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Kale opened his eyes as sun poured in through the window. He draped his hand over his face, groaning. It took him a moment to realize why his stomach bubbled uneasily. Today was the day of his wedding. It was strange. He should feel joyous. He was marrying a great beauty, but that was a part of the problem. Her beauty was so overpowering he found it daunting. It
was like he was a human trying to marry the sun. Whenever he got close to Gabrielle, he was blind, hot, and sweaty. He knew tonight he would have to bed her, which made him wonder how he was supposed to go about the business of removing his clothes in front of her. He gulped.

  It might be better if he was with a different woman like the dark-haired girl Camille who he had learned was Gabrielle's sister. It was startling that both girls had come from the same mother. Camille had none of her mother's femininity. She wasn't plain exactly. She was more unusual than anything else. He'd never seen a woman with raven hair quite like Camille's, just as he'd never seen eyes with flecks of auburn in them. He knew he wouldn't have been as intimidated taking his clothes off in front of Camille.

  Why are you thinking about taking your clothes off in front of your bride's sister? Kale flew into the sitting position, dumbstruck and horrified. It was the stress of the wedding, he realized. There was no way he could favor Camille over the beautiful Gabrielle. Frowning, he staggered out of bed and headed toward his closet. Just as he reached it, his father burst into the room without knocking first. Kale almost leapt out of his robe.

  "Son," his father boomed.

  "Yes?" Kale asked, massaging his ear.

  He was excited for this wedding to be over. His father wouldn't be around then. At least he'd have his own place to share with Gabrielle and wouldn't have to deal with the lack of privacy and early morning interruptions.

  "I came to talk to you about your wedding," his father growled. "You obviously can't walk in a straight line when you're around your bride, so do yourself a favor and keep your eyes down. It'll help."

  At first Kale thought his father was just being cruel, but then he realized that was not the case. His father was offering him advice about how to ease his own nerves. The man made a habit of being cold so often Kale scarcely believed he wasn't dreaming.

 

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