Lily stared blankly at the page, the words doing their usual slippery thing, resisting her comprehension. She stood staring down at it in silent panic. Where to write her name? Was she going to have to confess here and, now, on her wedding day, in front of her new groom and in the sight of God and His minister that she was a defective creature who could not read?
“Just here,” the vicar said kindly, and placed his finger on the place where she was to sign. She seized the pen, dipped it into the ink, and quickly wrote her name. Or should she have signed it as Lily Galbraith?
She stared down at her signature, frozen with dread. Would she have to sign again? How did you spell Galbraith? Why hadn’t she thought of that? She knew girls did that, wrote out their married name—or the name of the man they hoped to marry—over and over. But she hadn’t.
“That’s right, my dear.” The minister reached across her to blot the ink and Lily jumped. He smiled. “Wedding nerves. Most ladies suffer from them. Never mind, Mrs. Galbraith, it’s all over now.”
Mrs. Galbraith.She was married.
• • •
Lily ate very little at her wedding breakfast. She was too tense. But because others kept urging her to eat, she nibbled on an almond biscuit, had a spoonful of some creamy chicken dish, and ate the corner of a small pastry and a few early-season strawberries, soaked in sugar syrup, because they were still a little tart.
It wasn’t a particularly large gathering, but it seemed every single person there wanted to speak to her, to give her advice or make jests about marriage—some rather too warm to spare Lily’s blushes—and what with all the merriment and the champagne for the toasts, her head was soon spinning. They cut the cake and drank the final toast. Then it was time for Lily to go upstairs and change into a traveling costume.
Edward had arranged for them to stay at a country house belonging to a friend of his, a short distance from Brighton, which meant a journey of five or six hours. Lily had never seen the sea and was excited by the prospect.
It was raining outside, so most people crowded into the entry hall to bid the bride and groom farewell and good luck, and only Cal, Emm, Rose, George and Lord Galbraith ventured outside to make the final farewell. A last round of hugs, kisses, good wishes and a few tears, and Lily turned to climb into the traveling chaise.
Aunt Dottie suddenly rushed out, oblivious of the damp, and hugged Lily convulsively. “It’s all going to be splendid, darling girl, trust me.” She glanced at Edward, standing tall and solemn, holding up an umbrella to protect his bride, and added, “And remember what I said.”
Edward handed Lily into the carriage, signaled his driver and they pulled away, to a chorus of shouts and well-wishes. Lily leaned out the window, waving, until the carriage had turned a corner and they were all out of sight.
“Well, that’s done,” he said when she resumed her seat. “Went off rather well, I thought.”
“Yes.” Lily smiled. Ridiculously, she could think of nothing to say. She felt suddenly shy, couldn’t even meet his eyes.
Edward tucked a fur rug around her. He pulled out a book. “Shall I read to you?”
“Not just now, thank you. I’m a little tired.”
“I’m not surprised. Being abducted and married, all in one morning.”
“Abducted?”
He put the book away, and pulled out a different one. “Wasn’t that you I saw in the park this morning, with your sister and niece, being abducted with a bag over your head?”
She laughed. “It was a coat, not a bag—but you’re quite, quite mistaken, sir. According to my sister, it’s very bad luck for a groom to see his bride before a wedding—she’s wrong, of course—but in case she’s not, whoever they were abducting, it couldn’t possibly have been me.”
“Of course not,” he agreed instantly. “I didn’t see a thing. Peculiar habits your relatives have. I think my grandfather might have seen something, but grandfathers don’t count, do they?”
“Not a bit. He’s very nice, your grandfather. We had a lovely talk yesterday, and he took me for an ice at Gunters.”
“Yes, he’s a good old stick. He’s very pleased about this wedding. He’s been trying to marry me off for ages. Even tried to hoax me with a deathbed wish, once, but fortunately it didn’t come off.” He glanced at her and added, “He seems very taken with you; was singing your praises to me, even over and above his natural predisposition to like any respectable lady who could get me to the altar.”
Lily wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or not. She didn’t much like being referred to as a “respectable lady”—even if she was. As for gettinghimto the altar, a little reminder was required there. “Yes, Aunt Agatha feels much the same about you—delighted with anyone who’d be willing to marry me. Silly, really, when we’ve both been trapped into this.”
Edward frowned, seemed about to say something, then picked up his book, opened it to a page he’d marked with a bit of paper and started to read.
Lily would have liked to hear more about his grandfather’s earlier attempt to get Edward married, but he’dsignaled the end of that conversation by becoming absorbed in his book, and she didn’t like to interrupt.
The carriage threaded its way through the London traffic. Lily watched the passing scenery—she hadn’t lived in London very long, and there was always something to see—but in no time at all they were out in the countryside.
She kicked off her shoes, tucked her feet up under her, pulled the fur rug around her and curled up in the corner and tried to sleep.
Pretended to sleep, really. It should have been easier to make conversation with Edward, now that they were husband and wife, but somehow, it wasn’t. All those lessons at school on the art of conversation—what use were they now?
As he read, she watched him from beneath her lashes. His eyes scanned each line, each page so swiftly, his long fingers turning the pages with calm deliberation. Such elegant masculine fingers.
