Page 29 of The Viscount's Diamond Bride
“All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages,” – As You Like It,William Shakespeare
One would never have guessed that one was attending a wedding breakfast. However, the atmosphere was, one might say, quite reserved.
Even though the food was exceedingly palpable, Ursula had no appetite at all. Mama and Papa had gone to great lengths to host a sumptuous wedding breakfast.
It occurred to Ursula that everybody present, including herself, had a role to play. The doting mother, the proud father, the blushing bride, the happy guests. Ursula herself sat the head of the table, with Mama beside her. Papa was off talking to somebody or other, and Graham sat on her other side, very stiff and silent.
He hadn’t spoken since he had promised to love and cherish her as his wife forever. They had shared a brief carriage ride from the church to the Fairmont residence, but that was barely ten minutes long and it was easy enough to ignore each other.
I’m wedded,Ursula thought numbly. I am now a wife.
No matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept wandering towards the man at her right, Graham, her husband, who was sitting straight and rigid with his gaze transfixed somewhere else in the crowd of people surrounding them.
It took her a moment to discover where he was looking, but then she noticed his friend, Lord Hartwell, standing by the mantelpiece.
“Oh,” she said aloud, too surprised to think twice before speaking, “Lord Hartwell and Charlotte seem to be excellent friends already.”
Had Charlotte mentioned an acquaintance with Lord Hartwell? She couldn’t recall. Even if she had, there was something more than a simpleacquaintanceshipthere. Charlotte was looking up at Lord Hartwell with a rather singular expression, her eyes shining. At that moment he said something which caused her to laugh loudly. Almost instantly, she brought her hand to her face and covered her mouth.
Ursula did not know Lord Hartwell enough to guess at whether he was displaying real interest or not. Perhaps he was simply a polite man. He appeared pleasant enough, with a genial round face, large brown eyes, and a shockingly violent scar running down his neck.
“You seem surprised that they are friends,” Graham answered, his voice a little tight. “Jonathan Lord Hartwell who is an excellent man. Your Miss Winter might make worse friends.”
Ursula shot him a surprised glance. “I was not trying to insult your friend.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “No, of course not. Forgive me, I am… I am rather on edge. One’s wedding day is a rather stressful event, as it turns out.”
“I was warned of this,” Ursula admitted, taking up her glass of champagne. Mama had told her not to drink too much, in case the alcohol affected her “performance” later. Ursula had not asked what “performance” that might be. It was probably best not to know the details, only that it would involve the act between men and women.
Proper ladies don’t think of such things, even on their wedding day,Ursula thought, shooting a quick sideways glance at her new husband.They are entirely virtuous, even in thought.
Graham reached for his own champagne, taking a small sip. He had a strong profile, with the tiniest kink in the bridge of his nose. His lips were thin, but soft-looking, and he had a wide mouth which was not unbecoming. Ursula’s chest tightened. What would it be like? What wouldhebe like?
No doubt sensing her gaze on him, Graham glanced over at her, and Ursula hastily averted her eyes.
She could sense him still looking at her, lips parted as if he planned to speak. Before he could manage a word, however, a shadow fell over them. Ursula looked up to find the Dowager Lady Sinclair looming of them.
Her new mother-in-law.
At once, Ursula rose to her feet, offering a hopeful smile. She hadn’t spent much time looking at the dowager during the ceremony, but she had felt the older woman’s baleful stare onhermuch more often.
It was hardly surprising. Everybody knew that Lady Margaret Sinclair had such high hopes for her only son, only to see those hopes dashed as her son insisted upon marrying the most scandalous woman of the Season, a woman with a ruined reputation. No wonder she was angry.
“Lady Sinclair,” Ursula said at once, making a neat curtsey. “It is good to see you.”
She was rewarded with a frosty smile.
“Congratulations, my dear. You are the only Lady Sinclair that anybody will care about now,” she responded tartly. “You should call me Margaret, I suppose. To avoid confusion.”
“That’s good of you, Mother,” Graham said, sounding a little relieved. He glanced sharply between Ursula and his mother, as if apprehensive. “You should sit here with us.”
Margaret gave a tight smile. “I would really rather speak to the guests. Somebody must, after all.”
Ursula flinched. Was that an insult, a remark aimed at her parents’ hosting? It might well be. Before she could respond, Margaret continued on in the same cool, fluting voice.
“What a delightful spread! It is so lovely to be greeted with good, simple fare at a wedding breakfast. Many people prefer tofill their tables with large amounts of luxurious food. All those dishes, so rich! I admire your modesty, my dear. Humility is a much-overlooked virtue; you are quite bold to embrace it. It is most becoming.”
