He had promised to love me. We both knew we couldn’t make such a promise.
His expression was heavy, weighed down by obvious uncertainty. There was more than that though—he looked almost…afraid.
I glanced toward the vicar again, swallowing hard. He was looking at me now.
“Will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”
I drew a shaky breath. The words of the vow replayed in my head, and I couldn’t answer without feeling like a liar. My heart ached as I realized that yes,I would have loved him.I would have honored him. I had been giddy once, not so long ago, at the thought of courting him. Without Charlotte’s interference and my own stubbornness, what if we could have formed a real attachment?
I remembered Mr. Croft’s words from the back of his horse.Such a thing does not exist. Nor will it ever.
“Ma’am?”The vicar’s voice cut through my thoughts.
My face burned as I blurted out the words I was expected to say.“I will.”
The vicar instructed each of us to repeat further vows, and I had never felt like more of a liar. Did Mr. Croft feel the same as he said those words?
When we finished, the vicar stepped back, lifting his voice as he pronounced us husband and wife.
My head felt light, as if it might float away at any moment. I wiggled my toes inside my slippers, trying to anchor myself to reality. This was indeed my wedding. I glanced up at Mr. Croft’s stoic expression, dark brows level over his serious eyes.
This was indeed my husband.
The vicar continued to speak, giving his blessing, well wishes, and advice, but it was all I could do not to faint. My legs shook beneath me as the congregation rose, benches creaking. Mr. Croft turned from the altar first, and then I saw his arm extend toward me.
I met his gaze, a mixture of panic and unease spreading through my stomach. I took his arm anyway, allowing him to lead me down the aisle between the pews.
The hush of our families and other gossipmongers from town transformed into a rustle of skirts and a few low whispers. Usually, congratulations would be in order, but there was nothing in my expression or Mr. Croft’s that would suggest we were inclined to celebrate.
I realized how tightly I gripped his arm, softening my hold as we walked. Still, the guests each stopped to offer their well-wishes on our way out of the church, following us out into the churchyard. I squinted against the sudden sunlight. At least the sea air was refreshing against my damp skin.
I glanced up at Mr. Croft—my husband—Jonathan.I had no idea what to call him in my mind, only that Mr. Croft sounded far too formal now.
We were tied together for the rest of our lives.
My stomach twisted at the thought, and my head grew light again. I wavered slightly on my feet. “It was unbearably hot in there,” I said in an attempt to banish the awkwardness between us. “I feel a bit faint.” It wasn’t a lie. The churchyard had begun to spin, old tombstones streaking past the edges of my vision.
Jonathan looked down at me, the sharp angles of his face more prominent in the sunlight. I expected him to make a snide remark, but instead his brow furrowed. “Do you need a fan? Water?”
My fingers twitched on his arm, and I shook my head. “No—I-I should be all right for now.”
He made a sound, just a swift grunt, before turning his attention back to doors of the church. I stared up at the corner of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes, studying each feature. My vision blurred slightly, and I felt myself tipping more to one side. I steadied myself on his arm, shaking my head in an effort to clear it. Blackness crept into the corners of my eyes.
An arm slipped around my back, and then I heard Jonathan’s voice. “Does anyone have water?”
I blinked fast, and seconds later, there was a leather flask at my lips. Owen’s face came into view, and despite his usual teasing, he looked quite serious as he assessed me. He was a physician, which explained why he would have had the instinct to rush to my aid. The arm around my back was not his, however. It was my husband’s.
“May I borrow that?” Jonathan’s voice came close to my ear as he held me steady, and I felt the rustle of his breath. Borrow what? I couldn’t see what he was doing or who he was addressing.
I swallowed the water that streamed into my mouth, coughing as it trickled against my throat. My senses sharpened, and I realized that my feet were barely touching the ground. Iscrambled to secure my footing, my vision clearing at the same moment Jonathan raised a fan toward my face. He moved it rapidly, sending a cool breeze toward my skin. Gripping his arm, I breathed deeply, closing my eyes until my head felt secure on my body again.Blast Eliza and my tight stays.They must have been the cause of this. Fainting was not a common event for me—but then, neither was obtaining an unexpected husband.
I opened my eyes, my gaze settling on Jonathan’s face. His brow, knit together with concern, unfolded a bloom of confusion within me. I didn’t mean to, but I scowled up at him. Was he actually worried about me? The breeze from the green lace fan was already cooling my body, but my mind still spun. I felt his hand around the curve of my waist.
Owen instructed me to drink more water, so I obeyed. A trickle escaped the corner of my mouth, and a fleeting image of Jonathan wiping it away entered my mind. If that happened, I would know I was imagining things.
His face came into view again.
I craned my neck to look up at him. “I never faint.” My voice was weak.
