Page 19 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
It seemed so strange, as though it was not possible that any of it was really happening. She was utterly numb inside—it was all too much, too enormous to understand.
She blinked as her eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness. The place was lit with candles, and there were pews on either side of her—not many, enough to hold at most perhaps ten people. It was a small private chapel. At the front, a white marble cross stood on an altar and a priest stood before it. He smiled at Emmeline, and she blinked, trying to focus through the veil.
Her gaze fell on Andrew. He was standing at the front of the chapel, his broad shoulders obvious in the darkened space because he had chosen a pale blue jacket. His back was to her at first, but as she walked up, he turned around and his gaze held hers. She saw his eyes widen and she stiffened, feeling confused.
She had expected indifferent aloofness, just as she had seen when she first met him, but his gaze was far from indifferent, and certainly not aloof. She shivered.
I don’t understand him,she thought wildly. She could almost see appreciation in his gaze and that was possibly more confusing than the indifference or even distaste.
The priest began the ceremony, and Emmeline tried to focus, but she was only aware of Lord Rilendale standing by her side. She was aware of his strong, lean frame and how tall he was. She could not stop glancing sideways at him. His eyes were focused on the altar, in a solemn gaze. His expression was soft, almost thoughtful and her heart twisted.
He is not so bad, she found herself thinking. In that unguarded moment, he looked ordinary, if not rather better than ordinary.
His profile was rather handsome, she had to allow.
She flushed, feeling confused. She had never experienced anything like that before. He was the first man she had seen that she thought was truly handsome.
The priest was talking, and she tried to focus on what he was saying. She tensed as she realised the ceremony was almost reaching a conclusion.
“...and do you, Emmeline Margaret Rachel Ashmore, take thee Andrew Hugh Randell to be your lawful wedded husband, to honour and...” The words drifted past.
“I do,” she said automatically because it was the expected answer. She tensed as she said it. She had vowed. It was a fact.
He had turned to Lord Rilendale—Andrew, she told herself firmly. She must call him Andrew now. And as she tensed at the thought, she heard his answer.
“I do.”
It was a brief, intense statement and she tried to glance up at him, but the veil was in the way, obscuring her view of him where he stood rigidly by her side.
She tensed. It was the moment she had not let herself imagine, but which she knew she had dreaded since she had decided on this wild course.
Soon, Lord Rilendale—Andrew—would kiss her.
She heard the priest conclude the ceremony and then Lord Rilendale was lifting the veil, and her entire body stiffened as he bent forward and pressed his lips to hers.
They were warm and surprisingly solid, and she blinked in surprise. She had expected it to be horrid, like touching a lizard, but oddly the sudden, warm touch of his lips on hers was not unpleasant and part of her wished he had kept the touch a little longer.
The priest turned to them and said some words she barely heard, and then they were turning to face the guests—she blinked, her gaze moving from one familiar face to the next—and walking up the aisle towards the door.
They reached the garden and walked down the path towards the house. Emmeline felt as though she floated. She had walked here just an hour before, but then it had been different. Then, it had all been so different and now her world had changed.
“Here,” Andrew murmured as they reached the stairway that led to the dining room. He held out his hand and she took it as he helped her up the stairs.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
His eyes held hers and her heart lifted at the gentle warmth she saw there. His eyes were very pale, the lashes dark around them, and the expression in them was warm, friendly, a little unsure. She shivered in surprise, but then he turned away, and the shuttered, closed-off look was back on his face again.
“We will take tea with our guests in the drawing room. It has been made ready for the purpose.”
Emmeline nodded and followed him upstairs through the ruinous house. She looked ahead and tried not to think past the tea and to the hours ahead.
She could not imagine being alone with Andrew. The look she had witnessed briefly suggested he was not as wicked as she thought, but she still could not imagine it and she was too scared to try. All she could hope was to live through the hours at tea and have strength for whatever might come afterwards.
