“Ishallattend, even if I must carry a bucket with me,” Isolde assured, smiling. “And if this is truly your choice and what you deem to be your best hope, then I shall cheer you on with all my might.”
Valery hopped off the bed and walked to Amelia, pulling her into a fond embrace. “As shall I,” she said. “All I have ever wanted is to see my friends happy, and I have no doubt that you will be happier with this Earl than you have ever been at your own home.Thatis not nothing, my dear Amelia.”
Soothed by Valery’s words, Amelia hugged her friend in return, praying with everything that she possessed that Valery was right. True, she would probably never have the sort of love that she had read about so often, and that she had daydreamed about for most of her life, but companionship would suffice. There were worse things, after all.
As long as he is not cruel, that will be enough,she told herself, smothering the soft voice in her head that whispered it was a barefaced lie.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The weather had decided it was not in a celebratory mood as the day of the wedding arrived. Dense, bruised clouds that drizzled cold rain filled the sky, a bitter wind trying to steal the hats and bonnets of London’s citizens.
All will be well,Amelia repeated over and over as the carriage trundled along the cobblestoned roads to the church of St. George’s. It was one of the closest churches to Mayfair, and though she did not expect much, she braced herself for a crowd. Who would miss the opportunity to scorn the woman who had stolen the Earl of Westyork for herself?
“Your belongings are already on their way to the Earl’s estate,” Amelia’s father said gruffly, adjusting his cravat. “You are due to leave as soon as the ceremony is over. There will be no wedding breakfast or any of that nonsense, for which I am glad. I cannot abide such things. I do not see why anyone makes such a fuss over such an ordinary day.”
Amelia whipped around, her mouth agape. “I am to leave immediately? When was this arranged?”
“They are your new husband’s wishes,” her father replied. “Sensible man. You have finally done some good, Daughter. In truth, I was rather disgusted by the notion that you would end up a mere Baroness. ACountess—perfectly acceptable.”
She stared at him for some time, but he did not seem to notice, too delighted by the fact that he would soon be rid of his daughter. She willed him to say one kind thing, to say that he might miss her a little bit, to say that he hoped she would be happy—one small morsel of affection, after all these years.
He said nothing, smirking like the cat that got the cream.
What do I have to lose? We are almost at the church, and he will not forbid me from marrying now.
“I wonder what Mama thought on her wedding day,” Amelia said, mustering all of her courage. “I wonder if she thought she would be happy. I wonder if she hoped she would fall completely in love with you. I wonder how disappointed she was when she realized that you are incapable of love or affection of any kind. Toward women, at least.”
Her father turned as pale as a sheet, aside from two livid splotches of red on his cheeks. “Whatdid you just say to me, girl?”
“Or am I wrong?” Amelia went on, trembling inwardly. “Didyou love her? Did you also hope for happiness? Would you have done anything to see her smile or to hear her laugh? Was it the loss of her that made you the way you are? I have often wondered, in truth; whether you were born like this or you became like this?”
The carriage stopped and, before her legs became too shaky to get her down the aisle, Amelia pushed open the door and got out of her own accord.
Stepping down, she glanced back at her father. “I suppose we shall never know. Although, judging by Martin, there must besomethingin the blood of the male line that makes you so… unfeeling.”
St. George’s was a beautiful creation of sandstone, with a pillared portico and a spire topped with a golden weathervane. A few steep steps led up through the pillars to the main doors, and by the time Amelia reached them, her father had caught up to her.
He grabbed her roughly by the wrist. “You are lucky you are getting married today, or I would smack the impertinence out of you,” he snarled. “I trust that your new husband will not be so lenient when you displeasehim. Now, get inside. You have been a burden to me since the day you were born. Soon, I shall be relieved of it.”
Wrenching her arm through his, he all but dragged her through the doors and into the church… where the pews were so emptythat Amelia wondered if they had gotten the time wrong. Or, indeed, the church.
Her gaze darted to the front of the church, the sight of Martin assuring her that neither the time nor the church were wrong. Her brother was the only one sitting on her side, while Lionel only had the butler as his chosen witness. Amelia recognized the anxious man from the night she had proposed marriage to Lionel.
There was no one else there, aside from the reverend.
Where are Valery and Isolde?She glared at the back of Martin’s head, but he did not turn around.
There was no organist to play her down the aisle, her footsteps echoing eerily through the cavernous building as her father continued to pull on her arm. And it was such a beautiful church, too, with an elegant, vaulted ceiling, gilded around the edges, and mezzanine pews designed for large congregations. Exquisite stained-glass windows would have cast colorful light down onto the space, but the sun had been blotted out by the rainclouds.
Lionel turned at the last moment, his face revealing nothing. A perfect, crushing blank. She could not tell if he was pleased to see his bride or if he could not have cared less; he just stood there, tall and stern and cold, squinting at her.
It was not at all what she had conjured in her imagination, where he had smiled at her and welcomed her with some romanticFrench words, and asked if she had awoken from her curse at last.
“Well met,” he said flatly, taking her hand from her father’s vengeful grip.
Amelia peered up at her betrothed. “Where is your family, My Lord?”
“My grandmother is suffering from a nasty cold,” Lionel replied. “My sister is tending to her.”
