That is what I thought.
His smirk made her eyes shift away. “Hold onto that memory.”
Softly, he slid the ring on and tilted her hand to meet the light. “That looks nice, don’t you think?”
“It is splendid.” Her voice wasn’t quite steady. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Cassian kept his mischievous grin. “What if we abscond to Gretna?”
“I know what to say to that one,” Cecilia said, eyes narrowing, “Not on your life.”
CHAPTER 5
“Don’t cry,” Emma held Cecilia’s hand tightly as the carriage trundled through the streets heading to the church. “And please don’t fret.”
“I am not fretting,” Cecilia promised her second bridesmaid while smoothing a hand down her gown.
Cut in classical fashion, it had a square neck and delicate puff sleeves, gathered under the bosom, and the bodice was tucked into her nipped-in waist. The gorgeous dress was not the one she had put away to marry Gabriel with as she could not make herself use it.
This feels like a horrible nightmare.
It will be over soon enough.
Sixty days shall fly by if we keep out of each other’s way.
“Are you sure?” Rosie patted the comb in her chignon. “You do look like you are with that knot in your brow.”
“It is…” she sighed. “It’s simply not how I’d planned my life, you know. I do accept my fate as I had put myself into it, but it’s so… frankly, it is my worst nightmare come true.”
Cupping the back of her neck, she added, “To be fair, I do not think I would be any happier with Gabriel either, now that I know his true colors.”
Emma twisted her hands. “Do you think you can be happy, even with him being…him?”
“When he came to discuss the marriage, he made it clear that we’d separate after sixty days of our cohabitation,” she reminded them. “An annulment, we’d both be free of this mistake, and eventually we’d move on to have different lives.”
Both Emma and Rosie shared a look before Rosie said, “He’s a rake with a moral compass, at least. That sounded like a good thing, so why are you still not happy?”
“I…”
A knock came on the door to the bridal party room. Cecilia’s father was at the door. “I apologize for the interruption, but HisGrace has arrived, and the priest is ready for the ceremony to begin.”
Rising, Cecilia set her shoulders back and, taking her father’s arm, walked from the hallway to the main room of the small cathedral. Cassian was standing at the altar, and his gaze met hers as she entered.
As much as she tried to look away—at the priest, at the altar, at the many white roses placed in two vases bookending the altar— Cassian’s gaze captured her attention and held it captive.
His gaze had the ephemera of smoke. Handsome and virile, he was majestic in an inky jacket which emphasized his broad shoulders and lean torso. His trousers fit like a second skin over his muscular thighs, tucking into polished Hessians.
He looks as handsome as the night I first met him.
Another man stood by him, one she did not recognize, but that mattered little. The priest was at the pulpit, the bible or the Book of Common Prayer in his hand.
“Are you alright, dear?” Henry whispered.
Chin up.
“Yes,” she replied.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brother, Marcus, step in. His darker blond hair looked like a dusky gold coin and not the bright flax hers was, but there was no denying they were related.
