Page 2 of His Betrothed
The bride was helped from the carriage, and her wedding garments glittered under the sun. Again he saw that pale face, remembered the vulnerabilityof freckles scattered across her nose. He found himself hoping that they wouldn’t hate each other.
Roselyn took a step toward him and stopped as their gazes clashed.
Suddenly she turned and ran.
Spencer stood in stunned silence as he watched her dodge past people on the street, pull off her headdress, and throw it into the mud. Both sets of relatives moved about in pandemonium, shouting, pointing.Someone ran after her, but it wouldn’t matter even if they caught her. The damage was done.
Spencer stood as if he’d been turned into a statue, unsure what he was feeling. Shouldn’t it be relief, exaltation?
Everyone turned and looked at him, mouths agape, and a chill shuddered through him. Hewas used to creating scandal, and enjoyed making sure the nobility knew he was there.
But not thisway. His gaze darted frantically from person to person, and soon they were whispering behind their hands. His own friends started to laugh, and the ensuing uproar reverberated through him.
He’d forever be a laughingstock, an object of ridicule—and it was all Roselyn Harrington’s fault.
He looked at his parents, whose disappointment must be even worse than his humiliation.
“Am I too late?” saida familiar voice. “Just got into town for the wedding of the year.”
Spencer glanced aside to see his brother Alex, lurching up the church steps with a giggling, dressed-up doxy on his arm.
“She left,” Spencer said, wondering if his brother would take satisfaction in the rejection. “There will be no wedding.”
“But I wanted to meet her,” Alex said with an exaggerated sigh. He slung his free armaround his brother. “Come on, Spence, let’s go. There’s this tavern by the river…”
For the last time, Spencer looked down the street where his bride had disappeared, feeling the bitterness inside him freeze and become brittle. Then he turned and walked away.
