An Unsuitable Match

by Glint, Chloe

  Every move he made, every breath that he took, hurt. When Camille opened her eyes again, her cheeks were rimmed with pink from her embarrassment and she cocked her head in confusion. She had known she was marrying him, he realized. It was only he who had been fooled. He glanced up, pale-faced and horrified, and stared straight into his father's eyes. The man's expression was hard.

  "Kiss her," his father mouthed.

  When he gazed down at Camille again, feeling as though he was about to vomit, he could not bring himself to lower his head to kiss her. He yearned to speak, to try to undo the past ceremony, but he couldn't. He didn't know what he should say. His tongue had grown to the size of a great slug and stuck to the roof of his mouth. He bit his bottom lip and tried to remember how to function. His father walked over and clapped him on the shoulder.

  "Looks like the poor boy's gotten a case of fright," his father said.

  People in the crowd laughed. Everyone except Camille's parents and a girl sitting in the back row. The one he was supposed to be marrying.

  Chapter Six

  Kale stared down at Camille as if she was a disgusting beast. She didn't understand what was happening. She couldn't even breathe. A terrible agony filled her chest. It was like the feeling she had after eating food with too much spice, only with more burning. She longed to ask her new husband why he looked at her as if he was revolted by her hand in his. She also wanted to ask him why he did not kiss her. Yet she didn't want to do that, not while everybody was watching. Now that Kale had humiliated her by not giving her affection when he should have, she was painfully aware of how many people were in the room.

  She did not know whether it was a blessing or a curse when Kale's father waved at the organist who then played a slow march. People stood and stared at them. Somehow, she came to her senses enough to walk. She seized her husband's hand and dragged him down the aisle. Her neck grew hot from all of the eyes on her. When she entered the vestibule, she turned toward her husband and stared at him.

  "What's wrong?" Camille asked. "Why are you looking at me like this?"

  After shuddering, Kale ran a hand through his hair. "This is wrong. This is all wrong."

  The words were like an arrow straight to her core. "What's all wrong? I'm afraid I don't understand."

  People had begun to head toward them now, most of them beaming. She had no doubt most were going to congratulate her when she felt that no congratulations were in order; not when her husband stared at her as if she was some sort of leper.

  "I don't understand either." Kale shook his head wildly. "I just—"

  "Kale, my boy!" Kale's father boomed. "Come over here with me for a minute, son."

  Kale didn't move. The man arrived at her side and gave her an apologetic nod.

  "You make a fine bride, Camille," Kale's father said.

  "Thank you, sir." Camille nodded.

  "I need to borrow my son a moment," Kale's father said. "I'll return him shortly."

  Before either of them could say a word otherwise, Kale was whisked away by his parent and dragged down a flight of stairs to the right. Camille, feeling a sting of rejection, watched him go. She shuddered and fought down tears. A person came up to her to say congratulations, but she waved them off. She and Kale hadn't kissed. Were they truly married? Had all of her excitement been in vain? She bit her bottom lip and shook. Both of her parents reached her, as did her sister.

  "Oh, Camille." Gabrielle squeezed her arm. "It's alright. He was probably just too nervous to kiss you in front of all those people. Maybe it was his first kiss."

  Since Camille had seen the fear and revulsion in her husband's eyes, she knew that was not the case. She also noted the way her father's eyes were downcast and how her mother's lips pursed. She knew guilty expressions when she saw them.

  "Something's wrong," Camille said. "I want to know what it is. Now."

  "Don't you give us orders, Camille," her mother said. "We're your parents."

  "No." Her father ran a hand through his hair. "She should know now. Kale will tell her anyway."

  "But this could ruin everything." Her mother scowled.

  "No, it won't," her father said. "The ceremony's done. As far as the eyes of God and state are concerned, Kale and Camille are married."

  Her stomach dropped like a rock. She tried to understand what had happened. What had her parents done that was so awful it would lead to Kale looking sick? She had a feeling what her mother and father were going to tell her was going to hurt, but she would rather know than not. There was little to be gained from having her head in the sand.

  "Let's speak somewhere privately." Her father extended his arm to her. "Gabrielle, you stay here with your mother."

  "But I want to know what's going on," Gabrielle whined.

  "No." Her father gave Gabrielle a sharp look. "This concerns me and your sister, not you."

  "But I…but I…" Gabrielle hung her head. "Fine."

  Though Gabrielle tried to catch her eye, she turned her head away and allowed herself to be led by her father. She followed him into the back of the church where there was a small closet used for priest robes. He shut the door behind them. It was just the two of them, an overwhelming amount of dust, and darkness. She tried to take a deep breath to steady herself but wound up sneezing. As she, with her eyes watering, looked up to meet her father's gaze, the man stared at her with guilt leaking from every pour. He licked his lips and sighed.

  "Father, what did you do?" Camille asked.

  At first, her father did not respond. He wore his guilt like a great cloak. Finally, he hung his head and said, "Sir Kale intended to marry your sister, not you."

  No sword could have cut her heart as deeply as those.

  ****

  Kale stood downstairs in the midst of the empty hallway shaking. His father stood in front of him, staring him down. He had not spoken for a long time. Is the wedding final? Is there no way I can get out of this mess? He didn't know how he had wound up in this situation or how his father could betray him in such away.

  "What did you do?" Kale whispered.

  "Don't use that tone with me, boy," his father snapped. "I did you a great favor. You were always an idiotic child."

  "You did me a favor?" Kale meant to speak the words softly, but they came out in a great, boisterous yell that filled up the entire hallway. "A favor? I was supposed to marry Gabrielle!"

  "No, you were going to marry the wrong woman, but I fixed it." His father eyeballed him coldly, as if he was teaching a child something simple that ought to have already been learned. "I met with the father of your beautiful Gabrielle and made a deal with him. He gave your letters to Camille instead. That girl, Gabrielle, would have ruled over you. I saw the look in your eyes. You decorated the church in ribbons, for God's sake. A man should not be overpowered by his woman. A woman should be overpowered by her man. Since you're such a foolish boy, I gave you the person who would do whatever you told her."

  The words both hurt and angered him at the same time. Kale wouldn't have been surprised if his blood was on fire.

  "Camille wasn't the woman I wanted to marry!" Kale yelled. "That girl is…is…"

  "Plain, just like your mother," his father said smugly. "Save great beauties for your mistresses. They will be nothing but whores then. I don't care if you take your precious Gabrielle as your lover, but you will remain married to Camille."

  "Lover?" Kale's jaw tightened. "I'm not like you. I don't want to spend my life hurting my wife. I've seen the look on Mother's face when she speaks about you."

  "Loathes me, does she?" His father chuckled. "Well, that's fine, as long as she listens to me. The only thing I've ever allowed that woman is you. And if you don't take a mistress, you'll be bedding an ugly woman for the rest of your life."

  "You're a monster." Kale could barely breathe. "A monster. Does Camille even know what you and her parents did?"

  "That simple creature?" His father snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. I doubt she can even c
ount to ten. She fell for it just as easily as you did."

  The words made his ears ring. For the first time, he wanted to punch his father.

  "I'd better get upstairs to the church." His father shrugged. "You'd best do the same. You're the groom, after all."

  "I'm nobody's groom," Kale hissed.

  "Oh yes, you are." His father winked. "You went through the ceremony. That girl upstairs is your wife now, whether you like it or not."

  His father left the room. In his wake, Kale was certain he smelled sulfur.

  ****

  Camille stood in the closet with her father, digesting what he had just told her. She cried. Unlike her sister, she wept monstrous crocodile tears. Her face grew blotchy and red. Her nose ran in great rivers. Somehow, her sibling had bested her again. She's stolen the man Camille had meant to marry. The worst part was, she'd done it and hadn't even known it. She couldn't be mad at her sister for being what she was, but she could loathe her father for doing this to her. She'd thought her parents loved her, but this was not love. This was evil. Tonight, both she and Kale had been humiliated. No wonder the man had looked so horrified. He'd pulled back her veil expecting a butterfly and had gotten a slug.

  "How could you do this to me?" Camille was so angry her teeth chattered. "How?"

  Her father didn't even look at her. His eyes remained on the floor. She reached out and grabbed his arm. Her fingers shook.

  "Father." Camille had a dangerous edge to her voice.

  "I just wanted my daughters to get married and make lives of their own." Her father released a shaky sigh and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. "Between the two of you, you were bound to never marry. There's your sister who vows to never marry and then there's you."

  "Me?" The words stung. Her father made it sound as though her face was that of a toad's.

  "Yes, you." Her father's lips tighten. "You aren't afraid of marriage, but you're afraid of the world. Your sister goes out and enjoys social engagements, but you stay at home and hide. I've watched you for many years. Your sister would invite you somewhere, but you'd never go. You were always so frightened of being compared to her that you hid yourself. How were you supposed to marry if you never left the house? You would have just as many marriage proposals as your sister if you actually bothered to try."

  Her mouth dropped open. "Me? As many marriage proposals as Gabrielle? Don't jest, Father. It doesn't suit you."

  "This is exactly what I mean," her father snapped. "You are a beautiful girl. Different than your sister, but you are still a beauty. The differences are in your mind."

  "I'm plain," Camille said flatly. "Don't pretend I'm anything but that. I've come to terms with it. No person would come to grow affection for me, not when I look the way I do."

  "Your mother developed affections for me and you look just like me." Her father gave her a pointed look.

  But you're a man, she thought. Still she did not speak the words. The two of them were drawing farther and farther away from the matter at hand. Her father was sidetracking her with his honeyed words. She was certain of it. There was no other reason he would speak as he did.

  "Father, just tell me how this happened to me." Camille paused. "No, how it happened to us. I'm not the only victim."

  Her father sighed. "Oh, Camille. It started out very simple. Sir Kale's father approached me and said he did not wish for his son to marry Gabrielle but you instead. He said he didn't even want a dowry. How could I refuse that? I had an attractive husband for my first daughter who refused to find herself a husband. It was a good arrangement. I just didn't think of how much it would hurt you until later."

  "Well, it does hurt." Camille shuddered as she struggled to breathe. "My heart burns and my stomach aches. I don't think I will ever recover from this. Ever."

  "I'm sorry," her father said.

  Her parent gazed at her solemnly, making her realize that as cold as he had been, he did mean his apology. The problem was she wasn't sure if she was ready to accept it. If her wounds were physical, they still would have oozed blood. She hated the fact, though, that not accepting his words made her feel guilty. She finally nodded her head, the only thing she could do.

  "There has to be a way out of this marriage," Camille said.

  "It was done in the church," her father said. "You are married in the eyes of God. There is nothing for you to do but remain betrothed to Sir Kale."

  The words caused her stomach to sink. The great dream she had dreamt became a terrible nightmare. She wished she could scream to wake herself up. Instead she just stood in the dark, dreary room as bleak as her shattered heart.

  Chapter Seven

  The wedding party was enjoyed by everyone but Kale and Camille. He sat side by side with his bride and gazed at her. He knew that this ordeal wasn't her fault—she'd been as clueless as he was—but he couldn't help but feel angry at her. When Camille, gazing to the left so he couldn't see, let out a soft, trembling sob, his wrath was washed away by pity. She didn't deserve this. Likely, she'd been expecting a husband who loved her and not a man who was infatuated with her sister.

  "Camille?" Kale said.

  His bride froze but did not look at him. He sighed.

  "I know you're crying." Kale groaned. "Please look at me. I want to speak with you."

  After shivering, Camille swiveled in her seat and made eye contact with him. The fact that she had been crying made her strange face even stranger. Her black hair, which had been tied in a braid for the wedding, now hung around her face in massive heaps of black curls. Her eyes were swollen clams. Even the tip of her nose was red. A single tear streamed from her right eye. He winced and dug in his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief that his mother had embroidered for him and passed it to her. With trembling fingers, she took the handkerchief and wiped at her eyes. She was truly like no lady he had ever seen.

  "I'm sorry about all of this," Kale said. "I didn't realize that…"

  "That you were marrying me instead of my sister," Camille said. "Believe me, I know. I found out after the ceremony."

  More awkward silence. Camille sniffled again, wiped at her eyes, and then presented the handkerchief to him one more time. Wincing, he stared at the dampened cloth.

  "You can keep it," Kale said. "It's yours."

  "Oh." Camille stared down at the handkerchief and then smoothed it out. "Well, alright, then."

  Once again, neither of them spoke. The awkwardness was so intense that he could taste it, bitter and forceful, upon his tongue. He stole a fleeting glance at his bride again, trying to figure out what to say. No good words came to mind. This is going to be a long rest of my life, Kale thought dryly.

  As the two of them sat in subdued silence, Gabrielle parted the crowd. She was grinning from ear to ear and her cheeks were rosy. Her honey hair caught the light, begging for him to stroke her head. This was who he should have been married to. He should have been dancing with Gabrielle, smelling her hair and feeling her smooth skin beneath his fingers. Right now, he should have been both excited and nervous about his wedding night. With how he felt, he wasn't sure he could even touch Camille. He shuddered and caught his wife's eye. He knew from her guarded but melancholy expression that he had not needed to speak the words out loud for her to hear them.

  The moment was broken when Gabrielle said, "Camille, do you want to dance wi—you've been crying? Good heavens, why? Was it because of whatever Father has done? Or was it because of him?"

  Gabrielle's gaze shifted toward him and her expression became arctic. She sent him a message that he could not ignore: If you hurt my sister, I'll hurt you. He quailed beneath the stare of the woman he was supposed to love and adore. Suddenly, he could handle no more and turned away.

  "Gabrielle, it's not his fault, so you can stop looking at him like that," Camille said. "Kale said something so sweet to me that I started to cry."

  When Kale looked up, he saw that Gabrielle's face had changed from angry to happy. "Oh, is that so? That's well and g
ood then."

  "Yes." Camille nodded. "No need to be so overprotective of me, sister. And by the way, I don't think you need me to dance. I see a suitor over there. He's been watching you all evening."

  The innocent grin Kale had first seen on Gabrielle's face became impish. The girl leaned forward and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "He's not the only one whose been gawking all evening. How many men do you think I can get to propose before I leave for home? Two? Three?"

  The color drained from Camille's face. His stomach dropped. Gabrielle makes a game of the hearts of men? Suddenly, the sight of Gabrielle made his mouth taste bitter. He longed to say something angry to her, but he held his tongue, if only because Camille was shooing her sister away. When she settled down again, still sniffling, she wrung her hands.

  "Sorry about my sister," Camille said.

  Kale wanted to say it was alright, that her words had not wounded him, but they had.

  "Is she always like that?" Kale asked.

  "Would you prefer me to answer honestly?" Camille's fists tightened.

  That was an answer enough. Kale sighed.

  "She's not a bad person, you know." Camille settled down deeper into her chair and crossed her arms. "I think men frighten her, so she has an urge to hurt them. In a way, I pity her, because she'd never admit that to herself."

  "It sounds like the two of you are close." That fact surprised him. He thought she'd be more jealous than caring.

  "Very." Camille hung her head and said, "which is part of my problem," so softly he thought he'd heard her wrong.

  "Pardon?" Kale raised an eyebrow.

  "Nothing."

  Camille straightened and forced a smile on her face. It was the first of hers he'd seen this evening, but it looked more painful than beautiful. It was evident from the sheen in the girl's eyes that all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide. The sense of pity he felt intensified until all other emotions were dwarfed. It may have been the worst wedding this century, but it was still a wedding. After blowing out a sigh, he held out his hand to her.