‘Good day, Grace,’ he said, like a fool, his tongue suddenly seeming too big for his mouth. ‘You look very well. I am glad to see that my money was well spent.’ For a moment, she met his gaze, and Rawden seemed to fall into the warm depths of her hazel eyes.
But then she cast her eyes down and murmured something in reply. A blush spread across her face and down to her heaving bosom. Out of decency, Rawden tore his eyes from that succulent flesh and back up to a pretty coronet set in her coppery hair. The blasted thing was superfluous, for she had the most beautiful hair, which needed no adornment. It was teased into ringlets about her face, with a single fat one dangling over her breasts. He quelled the urge to pull it through his fingers and relish its softness.
Every bit of her beauty burst into Rawden’s consciousness at once, and its effect was shocking, sending a bolt of desire straight to his loins and a stab of pride tightening his chest. Grace was lovely. She was his, and he wanted her in his bed. Oh, to be married already, for her to be willing. What a delight it would be to pull her underneath him and take her, over and over, all night long.
‘Rawden. Did you hear me,’ she said, and he snapped back to the moment. ‘I said you look very well in your regimentals.’
For an instant, Rawden thought there was admiration in her eyes and a kind of plea, but then her cursed Uncle Charles bustled in between them.
‘Let us get on with this abomination, if we must, for it threatens to rain, and I’ll not have my velvets ruined in a tempest,’ he cried. Rawden could have happily slapped the man.
Charles Howden rushed to the waiting carriage, leaving his niece behind, so Rawden held out his arm. She took it, and he placed his hand on top of hers and smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way.
‘Let’s be off to church before I knock your uncle flat.’ he said.
***
It was a painfully strained journey to the church, which seemed to be on the outskirts of London. There was no conversation in the carriage, and the icy silence frayed Grace’s nerves. Uncle Charles was in a great huff over the whole affair and would not look Rawden in the eye. Her husband-to-be was equally terse and had relinquished her arm as soon as they were seated. Rawden did not look at her. Instead, he seemed intent on staring angrily out of the window, his hands clenched in his lap.
Grace dearly wished to be alone in the carriage to seek reassurance from Rawden. But her uncle had been told to give her away to maintain propriety, so they were stuck with him.
What a sight Rawden had been when she had come down the stairs - simultaneously splendid and terrifying. He had looked heartbreakingly handsome in his stiff uniform of scarlet and gold and with his unruly black hair brushed back. But it stirred memories of William going off to war in the same colours, and guilt left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Their journey took them through the cobbled streets of London to the edge of a park, where a little grey-stone church sent its spire heavenwards. It was nestled out of sight, overshadowed by tall oaks, their leaves already yellowing to autumn’s colours. A carriage stood outside it, but other than that, the place was deserted and a little desolate. Was their marriage a shameful undertaking that Rawden took no pride in?
As he took her hand to help her from the carriage, Grace caught a look of cold determination on his face. A summer full of hope was now over, and all she could look forward to was a wintery union with a man who was fulfilling a promise, clenching his jaw at the duty that must be done. Perhaps Harriet was right, and Rawden had brought her here alone to be married because he was ashamed of her and did not want the world to see. Or there could be a chance that this new path would bring some measure of happiness and security. Oh, how cruel a thing was hope!
A man was waiting at the church door in similar regimentals to Rawden. He rushed forward with a friendly smile. Rawden introduced him as Captain James Hardy, and he beamed at Grace.
‘My word, Rawden did not exaggerate your virtues, Miss Howden, and he definitely does not deserve you,’ he said, bowing to kiss her hand. He nodded a greeting at Uncle Charles, who grunted in return, and then a strange look passed between Captain Hardy and Rawden, and Grace wondered if there was hidden meaning in the man’s compliment.
But before she could think on it further, they were bustled inside the church, and she was walking stiffly towards an altar in a daze. Once the vicar began to speak, it was as if she was sleepwalking. Her mouth said the words, but a stranger stood in her place, shivering within the cold, whitewashed walls, as God looked down from the stained glass windows and judged her ill. She was entering a binding contract of matrimony, promising to love, honour and obey the fierce stranger next to her until the day she died. Yet she was numb inside and took no joy in her vows.
Grace could barely look at Rawden as the vicar declared them bound together as man and wife. Within minutes, her capitulation was complete, and she had gone from an unwanted, poor relation to a countess and one who was entirely under Rawden’s power.
‘You may kiss the bride,’ said the vicar.
Rawden’s jaw was rigid with some inner turmoil, and the rapier scar seemed more vivid in his pale face. ‘All in good time,’ he said curtly, and Grace was left in no doubt that her fortunes had not elevated but might just have taken a turn for the worse.
‘We must be going,’ said Rawden, and with a nod to the vicar and Hardy, he took her hand and led her from the church. They emerged to the hiss of rain and a clap of thunder, and Rawden rushed Grace into the carriage, slamming the door behind them.
‘What about me,’ wailed Uncle Charles, following in their wake, and in his rush to catch up, he slipped and fell into the mud.
‘You may return with Hardy,’ called Rawden out of the window. He sank back against the seat, brushing his wet hair back from his face. ‘Good riddance,’ he muttered before turning bleak eyes to her.
‘Where are we going in such haste?’ cried Grace.
‘I have a house in London where we will stay.’
‘But I thought I would return to my uncle’s house today,’ cried Grace.
‘Why on earth would you think that? You are my wife now. You have no place but by my side.’
‘But nothing was arranged. I was not told.’
Rawden’s face was stony as he said, ‘Well, I am telling you now. I have arranged to have your things sent over to my residence.’
‘That is rather high-handed of you.’
