So let them all look upon the scar while they said their vows. Let them see that neither he nor Madeleine were ashamed of it. There would be gossip, certainly, but all that mattered was that Madeleine was smiling.
There was a moment when she looked out toward the assembled congregation. Thomas didn’t know what she was looking for, but he was afraid she might see the expression on his mother’s face and that it might shake her confidence in her decision.
He reached up and took hold of her chin. Gently, he turned her face back to his and locked eyes with her, hoping to signal that she shouldn’t look away.
She was tense. It was the only indication of how nervous she really was. But she kept her eyes on him.
He smiled a little, hoping to reassure her, and he was rewarded when she returned his smile with one of her own.
The ceremony itself seemed to go by in moments. Later, Thomas wouldn’t remember the things the priest had said. He wouldn’t even remember the moment they had been pronounced husband and wife. He had always thought such a moment would be monumental, but it passed by, and he hardly noticed it at all.
What he would remember of the ceremony was the way it felt as the tension left her body. The way she relaxed as they looked at one another. The way the smile she’d given him—it felt like a gift to have her smile at him like that—never once left her face.
And when it was over, and they were walking up the aisle arm in arm, the eyes of the congregation fixed upon them, scrutinizing, looking for flaws and things to gossip about later, Thomas felt as if he inhabited a different world from all of them. There was nothing they could say or do that would harm him, nothing that would reach Madeleine. All of it was beneath him.
This marriage was real. Though he had never intended it to, it meant something now.
They reached the carriage that awaited them outside. It would carry them off to Westcourt for the ball to celebrate the wedding. But first, they would be granted a few precious minutes to themselves.
Thomas waited until they were inside with the door closed. Then he held out his hands to her.
“You’re really not angry with me,” she marveled.
“Of course I’m not,” he said.
“I knew you didn’t intend that I should wear this gown today,” she said. “I know that’s not why you sent it to me. I was dishonest with you, in a way.”
“But I’m glad you made the choice you did,” he said. “I’m gladyou chose, Madeleine. I’m glad you were married in something that made you feel good. That’s what’s most important. If I thought you would be happy in that gown Mother chose for you, I would have been happy for you to wear it. But you never liked it, did you?”
“No,” Madeleine admitted. “I didn’t.”
“Will you make me a promise?”
“Maybe.”
“I want you to always tell me the truth about what you need to be happy. Don’t pretend. Not with me.”
Madeleine gazed out the window.
Thomas wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her when she answered him at last. “I won’t,” she said. “I promise.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Arriving at Westcourt didn’t feel like coming home, and Madeleine had to remind herself that thiswasher home now. Her things had already been brought over and awaited her upstairs when the ball was over. They were probably being put away even as she made her way through the crowd to the ballroom.
She could feel all the eyes on her, and the whispers seemed to follow her around like ghosts. She didn’t regret choosing to wear this gown, but she couldn’t help wondering what people were saying now.
“Don’t look at them,” Thomas murmured. “Don’t listen to them. Stay withme.”
She was amazed at how comforting he had been. From the moment she’d locked eyes with him in the church, it had been possible to let go of her fear—if not entirely, then certainly for short moments. Now he wrapped an arm around her waist, and she felt her heart quicken at his touch.
She remembered what Horatia had warned her about. He would want an heir. These touches were exciting but were a prelude to something more—something Madeleine wasn’t sure she was ready to think about just yet.
Don’t think about that now,she cautioned herself. She didn’t want everyone at the ball to be able to see how anxious she was about what was coming next. Letting them see her scar was one thing but letting them see her fear would make herself far too vulnerable, and that was more than she could stand.
“Come,” Thomas said. “Let’s greet our guests.”
They took positions at the foot of the marble staircase.
