“Mama!” In the mirror, Maxwell saw Lydia frown. “I hardly mind. Max is not required to sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of mine.”
“This has nothing to do with happiness, or sacrifice, and everything to do with practicality.” Maxwell turned from the mirror and speared Joyce with a frown. “I have not forgotten my duties and obligations as far as Lydia is concerned.”
“I am not concerned, Maxwell.” Lydia gave him a wide, blissfully innocent smile.
Of course, thetonwould certainly talk about this. He had felt the whispers ever since the announcement; shock that he was finally marrying; further shock that his chosen bride was a lady with whom, to all intents and purposes, he had once broken an engagement.
“If we don’t go yet, we will be late,” Maxwell said, and Joyce rose from the sofa with an air of reluctance.
Lydia gave his arm a quick squeeze. “I hope your union with her is everything you hope it will be. I can’t wait to greet her as—” Here, she faltered. “As your wife,” she finished.
“I will, of course, tell her everything,” he said. “She will not betray your secret.”
Joyce sniffed but let the subject drop as they climbed into the carriage and traveled the short distance to the church. There, he took his place at the front, pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back.
The idea that he was nervous felt preposterous, yet here he was, looking toward his marriage with an air of anxious anticipation.
This eventuality had been one he had originally intended to avoid: marriage with a lady he felt more than passing respect for. Whatever he claimed to Lydia, she would be a distraction, and the worst part of it all was that he wanted her to be.
He was tired of resisting her.
Once they were joined in matrimony, there would be no further reason for them to wait, so long as she was amenable.
“I must say I didn’t see this coming quite so fast,” Simon said as he came to stand beside Maxwell. He clapped him on the back.“No need to fear; my wife has taken her in hand. Shown her all the best warehouses; she will have everything she needs, if you take my meaning.” He winked.
The nervous anticipation tipped into something approaching a need.
The doors at the end of the aisle opened, and Thalia stepped inside, accompanied by her father. Anna slipped behind her and into a pew, smiling broadly at Maxwell. She seemed pleased, at least, but Maxwell could not take his eyes off Thalia.
He had always known she was attractive and had desired her for longer than he cared to admit, but the full force of her beauty struck him anew. Dressed in pale gold satin, she seemed to glow like a star. The material gathered under her buxom curves, and her brown hair was soft around her face.
Ethereal—that was the only word Maxwell could conjure to describe her.
Ethereal, and somehow, beyond all logic, his.
When she reached him, she looked up with laughing brown eyes, and if Maxwell had ever been in doubt about the force of his feelings or whether he was in trouble, he knew then.
He was utterly lost for her.
“You may shut your mouth,” she whispered mischievously. “It would do neither of us any good now if you were to choke on a fly.”
“You look lovely,” he whispered back, unable to embrace her joking spirit and reciprocate. His heart was pounding, and he wondered briefly if he was about to suffer a heart attack.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
The ceremony was about to begin, but Maxwell could not take his eyes off her. Eventually, she led the way, turning to the bishop with such meaningful intensity that he was forced to do the same, going through the motions until finally they were declared man and wife.
Maxwell did not decide to kiss her. It was more than that, when she turned her face up to his, her jaw tilting and her lips smiling and her eyes unusually soft, there was nothing else he could have done.
A sigh arose in the church as his mouth brushed across hers, and her fingers tightened across his arm, pulling him closer. Tempting as it was to sink deeper into the kiss, he forced himself to pull back and look down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“Well, wife?” he asked, low enough that no one else could hear them.
“Well, husband?”
He tucked her hand in his and led them both down the aisle and out of the church into the light.
Outside, a carriage awaited them, and he handed her inside, still feeling a little as though he had stepped outside reality. The day was just as bright as he remembered; this was his carriage and Thalia was just as beautiful as she had been inside the church. If anything, more so now with the wind tossing her curls as she entered the carriage and her cheeks faintly flushed.
