Page 6 of A Gentleman's Wife

Chapter Three

The August heat seeped into the church foyer as Thomas paced the distance from wall to wall. Generally, people in London flocked to the country to escape the heat, but apparently it had followed him when he left. Either that, or he was making himself sick with nerves on his own wedding day. He knew the woman’s name, but he hadn’t met who he’d been promised to and knew little to nothing about her. Daughter of a distant friend, wealthy family, country estate, polite manners. Thomas had told his grandfather he didn’t want the details because it would only make him focus on the comparison more, force him to remember that he wouldn’t be marrying the woman he loved. But now that the day had come, faster than he’d ever anticipated, he was left grasping for any information about her. Who would be the woman by his side for the rest of his life?

“Calm yourself, boy,” Grandfather said sternly, putting a wrinkled hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “They’ll arrive any moment, and you’ll give the impression she’s marrying a man who has no control of his emotions.”

“Of course.” Thomas nodded, pulling the hat off his head and wiping his brow. He tried to tell himself that this day was no different from any other, but he could not believe the lie. His entire life would be different after this day.

A carriage sounded beyond the chapel doors, making Thomas go stiff, hat in his hand. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He needed to be in control, just as Grandfather had said. He might not get the one thing he’d wanted, but this change was good. Necessary. He would have a life companion, and his family line would go on. He could ask for nothing else.

The chapel doors opened, and a multitude of couples appeared. First an elderly couple, who appeared slightly younger than Grandfather himself, but their hair still grayed. They both bowed before the gentleman reached a hand, addressing Grandfather first.

“Mr. Ramsbury, how good to see you again.” The man, who Thomas could only presume was his future father-in-law, spoke loudly, giving no reverence for the church. “My apologies for the late arrival. Our travels yesterday were quite miserable in all that damned weather.”

Grandfather shook his head. “Think nothing of it. I’m only glad you arrived healthy and unharmed. And on such a joyous occasion.”

“Indeed,” said the woman on his arm, undoubtedly Mrs. Taylor. Though she wore a smile, her voice was oily, and her appraisal of the building led Thomas to believe she found it wanting. Then her eyes settled on him. “And is this the grandson we’ve heard so much about?”

Grandfather grinned. “It is. My late son’s only child. Allow me to present Thomas Ramsbury.”

Thomas bowed in greeting.

“This is Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell Taylor, the parents of your bride,” Grandfather went on.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Thomas said with a nod. “Thank you for all you’ve done to make this day possible.”

Mrs. Taylor gave an obnoxious laugh. “La, my dear boy, we should be thanking you for taking the girl off our hands.”

Thomas stiffened at the harsh words.

Mr. Taylor must have noticed, for he patted his wife’s hand in the crook of his arm. “We’ll be happy to see her so well-settled. But allow us to make the introductions.” The man turned, revealing an elegant looking couple. “This is my eldest son, Reginald, and his wife, Deborah.” They nodded in greeting, but did not stay, only made their way into the chapel. “This is my daughter, Phyllis, and her husband, Alexander.” They, too, held an air of haughtiness about them as they gave their nod of acknowledgement before disappearing inside. “And this is my youngest, your bride, Miss Marianne Taylor.”

Thomas turned his gaze to the doorway, which still held all the light and heat of the morning sun as a small woman appeared with her head down. She dared a glance up at him quickly and bobbed a curtsy before muttering, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ramsbury.” She wore a simple dress of pale blue with gold trimmings and white lace, which complimented her dark features and creamy skin. Her bonnet donned matching colors and ribbons, with a few rebellious strands of brown hair escaping.

He would have noticed more about her were it not for the pounding of his heart. This woman was his future, the rest of his days in mortality. So why were his thoughts only of Lady Finley? Had she utterly ruined him for anyone else?

Miss Taylor held out her left hand for him to take, and he had to shake his head to clear his thoughts before he could react. Instead of simply taking her hand, he pulled it up to his lips and kissed it, drawing up her gaze in surprise. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Taylor.” He gave her a smile that he hoped was encouraging, for he certainly did not feel the confidence that he needed to have on a day like today.

A throat cleared behind them, and Thomas turned to see the vicar in the oak doorway. “Are we ready then?” he asked in a gentle voice.

“Of course,” Grandfather said.

Mr. Taylor patted Thomas on the shoulder. “I’ll leave it to you to escort her in.”

Then Grandfather nodded, leading her parents into the room.

But not before her mother looked back and snarled, “Be sure not to foul it up.” Then she and her husband disappeared into the chapel.

Thomas blinked. Did he need to be concerned with his future wife’s behavior? Had she fouled something up before that would now bring shame to his family? One glance at her spoke volumes, for she ducked her head in a humble acceptance of her mother’s words and silently bore the remark. Perhaps he should be more concerned about his future wife’s wellbeing instead.

They stood alone for a moment, and Thomas found himself lost for words. He supposed they’d have the rest of their lives to get to know one another, but how did one walk into a marriage having only just been introduced? He knew it happened all the time in society, but he had never assumed it would happen to him.

Before the moment turned awkward, Thomas extended his hand to her. “Shall we go in?”

“Mr. Ramsbury,” she spoke, her voice small and smooth. “Might I have a word with you before we do?”

Thomas nodded. “Of course.”

She inhaled a moment, seeming to settle herself before speaking. “I only wanted to prepare you. When the ceremony requires you to take my right hand, I ask that you not attempt to clasp or intertwine my fingers.” Her breathing was tight, unstable. “My hand is crippled, you see, and stays in a fist most of the time, so it would be easier for you to just hold it as it is.”

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