Page 19 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
Freya’s voice shook as she tried to say the words, “I take thee to be my lawfully wedded husband.” It all felt very surreal.
It was as if she blinked, and the service was over. She now belonged to Eric Campbell.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest intoned, and she blushed bright red.
Eric leaned in slowly as she watched him with wide eyes, his own eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips. Unconsciously, she found herself pursing her lips in preparation. Everything seemed to stop as he got closer and closer, and finally, his lips touched hers ever so fleetingly.
She surged upward to complete the contact, really shocking herself as she grasped his arms, afraid that he would move away. That small action seemed all the encouragement that he needed to pull her close and turn his gesture into a real kiss.
She parted her lips slightly, letting his tongue slip into her mouth briefly. Her heart jumped her fingers tightened briefly on his arm before she let him go. She had not meant to do that and hardly knew where to look. There was applause coming from their audience, but she didn’t want to see it. She was reluctant to face the priest after having given him such a display in his church. And she most definitely did not want to look at Eric; oh, she was sure he was smirking in triumph.
So, she looked down at her feet and tried to slow down her breathing. She felt Eric's warm hand on her elbow, and he turned her around so that they could walk back up the aisle. She kept her eyes cast down so as not to meet anyone else’s. The whole experience was just harrowing to her. All she wanted us to get out of there and go home.
Instead, she had to contend with her wedding reception, held in their dining room and attended by various close acquaintances of both her father and the Campbells. Freya realized with melancholy that she had no friends to invite. Having grown up isolated in the countryside, with only her sister and governess for company, she had not had much opportunity to interact with other Gentry.
I might find all this easier if I had a particular friend to confide in. One who had hopefully undergone a similar experience.
Freya could never wish her life on anyone else, but she would have given anything to have a married woman to explain to her just what to expect— without using any horses as illustration.
Freya barely ate though the kitchen had outdone themselves with a feast worthy of a king. She played with her fork, watching as Isabella spoke animatedly with Eric's brother. The intensity of their conversation piqued her curiosity.
What could they possibly have to speak so deeply about?
Her father sat at the head of the table, his eyes glittering with illness, a smug smile on his face. Freya supposed he had gotten everything that he wanted, and so why would he not smile?
Her new husband sat across from her, conversing with his Navy friends, who happened to be in town and had heard of his nuptials. It seemed they were catching him up on everything that had happened since he left, judging from the intense attention he was giving them.
She shifted her eyes to his right hand and found Mama Campbell staring back at her with a sympathetic look in her eyes. She gave Freya a small smile as their gazes met, and Freya blushed, feeling caught out.
She quickly dropped her eyes, lashes coming down to hide her expression. As much as she liked Mama Campbell, she could not forget that the other woman was her husband’s mother. Clearly, her loyalties would be with him.
The Duke tapped on his glass to get everybody’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to toast the bride and groom so that they may feel free to leave us and embark on the consummation of their marriage and honeymoon. This wedding has taken place with considerable speed, and I want you to know that it is for no reason other than my ill health.”
The crowd laughed, and Freya frowned, wondering what was funny.
“While such arrangements are made to finalize their honeymoon, my new son-in-law and heir, Eric Campbell, will stay with us here. I urge you to extend your congratulations and good wishes to the bride and groom as they begin this new phase of their lives.”
He began to clap, and the entire table joined him. Freya tried her best to smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eric bowing to the company as he got to his feet. She watched in horror as he picked up a glass. “I, too, would like to make a toast.”
Freya tensed, watching him with wide eyes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, most of you know me as a humble Lieutenant Commander in His Majesty’s Navy. As of three days ago, I took my brother’s place as the first son of the family after his unfortunate demise.” He paused, mouth turning down. “Of all the obligations that he left, aside from taking care of my mother and brother, this is the most important. I hope to do him proud.”
He lifted up his glass. “To Alexander Campbell.”
“Alexander Campbell,” everyone murmured in a chorus before sipping from their glasses. Freya did the same though it felt strange to be toasting a man she would have married were he still alive instead of the actual one that she had married.
She heard Isabella ask William what his brother died of and ruefully shook her head. Sometimes her sister forgot all couth. What a question to ask a near stranger.
She noticed that Eric was still standing.
“I have one more toast to make,” he said, turning towards her. “To my new wife, Lady Freya Campbell: as we embark on this journey together, may we always be in step so that as we build the next generation of this family, we do so in harmony, joy, and affection. To Lady Freya!” He lifted his glass in her direction as did everyone else in the room.
Freya blushed deeply, feeling quite mortified with all eyes on her. She wanted to narrow her eyes at her husband, just to let him know she was thinking murderous thoughts. Instead, she had to raise her glass and smile and try to look pleased at the toast. Isabella was clapping with enthusiasm while everyone else gave her polite applause.
She was not one to crave to be the center of attention. She was very tempted to sink into her seat and try to disappear. She was extremely pleased when Eric sat down, and attention moved elsewhere. She waited with bated breath to see if anyone else would make a toast, but luckily, most people were more interested in the food on their plates and the wine in their glasses.
An interminable time later, Mrs. Beecham came to crouch by her chair. “Good news, my lady. Your trousseau is ready. Madame Cousteau has outdone herself to have it ready in time. Mr. Silver tells me that you will be leaving today after all for your honeymoon.”
