Page 27 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
Provided she does not expect intimacy.
“Recite these vows to your betrothed as I say them,” Reverend Smithers continued. “I, Ewan, Marquess of Peterborough, take thee, Henrietta Oliver, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance.”
“I…” Ewan faltered slightly but quickly regained his composure and echoed the vow.
“You must now do the same, Henrietta. Repeat them as I speak the words. I, Henrietta Oliver, take thee, Ewan Clark, the Marquess of Peterborough, to be my wedded husband . . . to love and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance.”
There was a soft murmuring from the crowd, but Ewan barely heard it. He felt as though he had been standing at the altar for far too long as it were, and the desire to rip the veil away was becoming insurmountable. Perhaps sensing his anxiety, Reverend Smithers cleared his throat and nodded.
“By the power vested in me, in the name of God and the Church of England, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now raise the veil and look upon your bride.”
He did not waste another second, his hands fumbling to find the edge of the delicate lace before he moved the garment away, his pulse rushing through his ears.
Ewan froze, choking in shock as the bluest eyes returned his gaze.
He dropped the veil and stepped back, shaking his head in disbelief. The guileless irises followed his movement, widening in surprise and hurt.
“What is it?” Henrietta breathed, alarmed and shamed. “Am I not what you expected, Lord Peterborough?”
She looked helplessly toward her parents who were equally perplexed by what was happening, but no one overtly explained the issue to her.
Ewan whirled to stare at his parents, the betrayal filling his chest.
“How could you do this?” he gasped. “You add insult to injury!”
“No!” the Duchess protested, her face paling. “You should be pleased!”
“Please,” Henrietta whispered. “What is the meaning of this? Is it something I have done?”
“Come along, Lady Peterborough,” Reverend Smithers implored her. “Lord Peterborough needs a moment to collect himself with privacy.”
Ewan looked about the chapel blindly, unsure of which way to turn. He was overwhelmed with confusion.
“Come with me, Ewan.” The Duke marched toward his son and took his arm, leading him from the gossiping crowd beyond but Ewan wrenched his arm free.
“How could you find this acceptable? I had only learned to accept the fact I was getting married again,” he mumbled desolately. “Was this done purposefully?”
“Ewan, I am stunned at your reaction. What is the matter? She is comely, charming—”
“You know precisely what the matter is! She looks…” he could not finish the thought aloud, his breath catching in his chest.
“There is a resemblance, Ewan, yes. It is why we considered her to be such a decent match.”
“A resemblance?” Ewan growled skeptically.
“Indeed. Nothing more.”
“You are wrong!” Ewan retorted hotly. “It is far more than that! What am I to make of this?”
“Your new wife is a gift from God,” the Duke told him firmly. “He wanted you to have what you lost again. That is precisely how your mother and I see it and you should too. You have a second chance now. You must not forsake it. You see Patricia everywhere you look. It is natural, but you must not fight this. If you permit yourself to look without blinders, you will see they are very different women—inside and out.”
Ewan wished with all his heart to believe what his father was saying, that God had sent Patricia back to him, but he knew that Henrietta Oliver was not his beloved Patricia.
No matter how identical they may appear on the outside, Ewan thought grimly.
Chapter 10
Henrietta was stunned.
