“We have talked,” Daniel said gently, but nothing could soften the razor-sharp blow. “We feel—Ifeel—it would be for the best if you accept His Grace’s kind offer.”
Caroline looked to Evan—her cousin, her adopted brother—in a final, desperate attempt to find an ally. “Do you agree with this? Can you not see how… how… ridiculous this is? Would you truly take all choice away from me?” Her breath grew ragged, her voice fading. “Might I not at least attempt to weather the storm of whatever gossip and scorn comes my way? If it is too much,thenI could consider a marriage of… necessity. Could that not be possible? Evan?”
“I have half a mind to ride from this church, find Dickie and box him senseless before dragging him here,” Evan growled, shaking his head. “But as I have no way of knowing if I would find him, I am afraid that I have to agree with your brother. I am sorry, Caro. So very, very sorry.”
Caroline stood sharply, backing away from the friends and family who had somehow transformed into a mob, set against her. She shuffled all the way to the cold stone wall, pressing her spine into it as if it might allow her to pass through if she just willed it hard enough.
Anna cherishes him. She is always telling me how amusing he is. She knows him better than anyone.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture a life with Max, tried to envision just one moment when he had smiled at her, but she could not do it. She kept returning, instead, to the spilled drinks, the aloof responses, the absolute indifference he had for her, which did not sit well with her.
But her friends and family stood between her and the doors. If she tried to run, someone would catch her and, with all the apologies in the world, they would still march her to the altar. And she, too, was beginning to understand that she had no other choice. Not if Max was right, not if leaving this church unwed would mean her friends distanced themselves.
I cannot be a hermit. I would not survive it.
If marrying Max was the price for life to continue on in a mostly normal fashion, then it was not the steepest cost she could think of.
But, perhaps, she had one last shot.
“And what of you, Reverend?” she wheezed, glaring at the white-haired man with the crooked nose who leaned against the lectern as if he were passing time before dinner. “The special license was for me andRichardDennis, not Maximilian. Surely, it cannot go ahead if the correct groom is not here.”
The vicar smiled stiffly, casting a sly look at Max as if to say,“Are you sure you want to marry this one?”
“His Grace and I have come to an arrangement,” the old man said. “It will be noted that a simple mistake was made when the license was attained, naming the wrong brother, and will be altered afterwards. There is no reason not to proceed.”
Caroline sagged, all of the fight abandoning her as the small congregation waited in earnest. She stared down at the floor, eyes following the cracks of the flagstones and the worn patches where countless feet must have walked before her. Perhaps, she thought she might find an answer in the worn memory of other people.
How many other brides have stood in this church, marrying someone they did not love? How many have married cruel men, unfaithful men, old men, unsuitable men?
She lifted her gaze to observe Max, who had his head bowed, his demeanor surprisingly patient.
He was not what she wanted, regardless of the fact that he resembled the sort of ancient Greek hero that had been immortalized in perfectly sculpted marble. She did not love him, did not know him, did not care for what shedidknow about him, but at least she knew he was not cruel. Rude, perhaps, and certainly unimpressed by her, but not cruel, not old, and not the most unsuitable match she could make.
Beatrice has freedom because she is a Countess. I might have freedom if I were a Duchess.
Not of the same kind, of course, but maybe Max could be convinced to keep the union as a marriage of convenience. A masquerade of a marriage. A marriage in name only.
But if I fall in love with someone, what will I do?
Divorce was so rare that it was almost mythical. Annulment was less rare, but if too much time passed, it would be hard to convince the ecclesiastical authorities that there were valid grounds for it.
She glanced at her mother, who hid her anxious sobs in her handkerchief, and all alternatives evaporated into the dust motes that danced in the shafts of gray light, slicing in through the windows.
“Very well,” Caroline whispered, hating the words. “I will… accept your offer, Your Grace.”
But you will regret that you ever forced Dickie to propose in the first place,she threatened in solemn silence, moving to take her place by the altar.And you will regret not leaving me to the wolves of the ton, where I might at least have had my freedom.
CHAPTER FIVE
Max had attended plenty of weddings in his one-and-thirty years, but he doubted he had ever heard vows hissed so venomously from a lady’s lips. He would not have been surprised if Caroline had had her fingers crossed the entire time. And her mood had not improved with distance from the church, and the fateful wedding they had just endured.
She sat on the opposite side of the carriage, tucked into the corner, her arms folded across her chest as she stared sourly at the window. Rain spattered the pane, the world outside as dismal as her mood.
“The wedding breakfast will be a simple affair,” Max said, clearing his throat. “A brief meal, then games in the drawing room perhaps, then I suspect everyone will leave. I hope they will, anyway.”
Caroline sniffed. “No one is leaving me alone with you. I will ask my mother to reside with us for as long as I see fit.”
“If you happen to have a spare Dowager House on my estate, feel free,” he replied, shuddering faintly. He could not imagine having his mother-in-law under his feet all the time. A furious wife was worrisome enough.
