Niles had an idea.
The countess nodded. “Be careful, Justin, and you too Mr. Waverly. Don’t let her marry him!” She then took off at breakneck speed toward the stables while Niles shared his plan with Lord Carlisle.
“Remember that ship that went down last month? Well…”
If Anyone Has Any Objections…
She’d been caught in a nightmare. Eve wanted to speak up but her thoughts would not connect to her voice. Or her body.
The veil, the darkness. And the fact that two very large brutes had dragged Niles away.
Whose arm was she leaning upon? Niles ought to be beside her. She fought through the heaviness and forced herself to hear the words being read out loud.
The reading of the will?
“…we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence…”
A wedding?
Rhoda and Carlisle had married already, hadn’t they? Of course, they had. He’d whisked her away… Eve had never been so happy as when Rhoda and Carlisle married.
The man beside her vibrated as he mumbled something…
Eve would be utterly content if Coleus and Holly found themselves husbands with even half as much good character as Lord Carlisle. Even so, if they did not, they’d never worry about security. They could remain with her. Host exhibitions and readings at their home.
She would purchase her home in London now that Jean Luc was gone.
Niles had assured her she’d have no difficulties.
“Marigold Evelyn Mossant.” The voice read.
How she hated her given name. Marigold. But then she’d done the same to her own daughters. A hint of a smile touched her lips. She’d protect her daughters with her life. Darius Mossant would never get his hands on Coleus, as he’d hinted. He was too much like his uncle. Too much like Jean Luc. Eve had sensed it after only a few minutes in his presence.
The memory, for some reason, brought her back to the present. She was leaning upon Darius. Not Niles.
And then the words floating around the room began to take shape.
“Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Silence.
“Eve dear, tell the man yes.” That voice, so much like Jean Luc’s, sent shivers racing down her spine.
“No.” Barely a whisper emerged past her dry lips. She swallowed. Summoning all her strength, she lifted her chin. “No.”
“She doesn’t mean it.” Darius again, trying to silence her now.
“No.” She spoke the word again and pushed away from the arm she’d been leaning on.
How had this happened? Hands gripped her elbow so tightly that it hurt. But she welcomed the pain. Something was very wrong with her.
The tea.
He’d put something in her tea.
Memories of people attending some of Jean Luc’s parties, lying about with heavy lids and blanks stares, pressed themselves upon her. The opium.
God help her. She’d been drugged.
