Supported by the arm linked with hers, she tottered back down the aisle. The notes of the recessional boomed out from the organ and choristers so loudly she swore they vibrated inside her skull. Even worse, a crowd of onlookers gathered outside St. Martin’s erupted into an enormous cheer as the newlyweds emerged. The noise and bright sun sent colored lights rattling through her brain.
Clinging to her groom’s muscular arm, she somehow descended the steps to the coach waiting to drive them back to the Fifth Avenue house for the reception. As they settled opposite one another inside, she closed her eyes and leaned against the squabs.
Her moment of peace shattered as the vehicle set off with a jolt. With a groan her lids lifted. Lord Rossburn gazed out the window at the cheering crowd with a frown.
“I’m sorry.” She searched for something else to say, but her mysterious indisposition prevented coherent thought. Fortunately his good breeding came to the rescue.
“Sorry for what?” He spoke with the impeccable courtesy he had used the entire length of their engagement, to her, to her family, to the servants. Such politeness chilled her.
She cleared her throat and mentally cursed theawkwardness that plagued her in his presence. Tongue-tied, she gestured to the onlookers outside their window. “For this. I have always believed weddings should be private events.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I did not hear you say anything about your preference to your mother.”
“Whatever would that have accomplished?” Surely he had seen enough of her parent to understand that one did not say “no” to Amalthea Quinn. Contempt flickered in his eyes as he made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.
Stung, she persevered. “I am also truly sorry you had to marry without the support of your family and friends.”
“Thank you, but my mother has been an invalid since before my father’s death and is quite unable to travel. My only other close relatives are my aunt, who looks after her, and my cousin, who acts as my deputy when I am absent from my estate.” He shrugged. “Doubtless you will meet my acquaintances when we arrive in London.” The implication that his marriage was not important enough to invite them hung unspoken between them.
The rest of the drive passed in silence.
Mercifully, their duties at the reception precluded the need for more conversation between them. Footmen served and removed the elaborate courses of the wedding breakfast, most of which she declined. Thomas pressed her to join Papa’s toast to the guests with champagne, ignoring her whispered plea to use water instead. Even the thought of drinking wine increased her headache.
“I prefer that Lady Rossburn refrain from drinking spirits today.” Her groom reached over from his place and turned her empty glass upside down on the table.
“Nonsense! Nothing like a champagne toast to liven up a dull gathering!” Her younger brother reached for her glass again, but his lordship did not move his hand.
“My wife declines champagne.” He accompanied the civil words with an icy stare. Thomas backed down with an angry mutter. Despite his words in the coach, she threw her new husband a grateful smile and picked up her water goblet. The ice in his eyes melted for a moment. A few minutes later he placed a small piece of broiled chicken on her plate along with a roll and a few pieces of steamed asparagus.
“This might sit better in your stomach.” He turned away immediately, but after a cautious nibble, she realized he was right. Nearly as high-handed as her parents, but right.
She lost count of the toasts offered over the course of the afternoon. Thanks to his lordship’s intervention, she responded with water, gradually feeling better. Still, the din of voices and music left her wishing to seek refuge in her room. As the light outside the French windows in the ballroom turned to late afternoon gold, her mother quietly signaled that the time had arrived for her to slip upstairs and change out of her wedding gown.
She gulped. In all the preparations for the wedding ceremony, the fact that she would leave with Lord Rossburn had been often mentioned, but not dwelt on.
She opened the bedroom door to find her grandmother waiting along with her maid. As they helped her out of the cream gauze gown and into her wrapper, she stared blindly at her reflection in the mirror. Only after the maid rearranged her hair did she glance at her going-away dress. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“That’s not what Mama ordered.” She ran a wistful hand over a cerulean blue velvet polonaise. Her fingertips sank into the thick nap, relishing cool softness. The skirt consisted of layers of more velvet and matching taffeta, draped into a bustle.
“I ordered it from Mr. Worth on the sly.” The old woman’s eyes sparkled wickedly. “I figured as much as your mother ordered, nobody would notice one more.” Diantha could not help but smile in spite of her pounding heart.
At last Granny dismissed the woman and took her hands.
“Well, Dina, you’re facing what comes to every woman that marries.” Her gaze took in Diantha from head to toe before settling on her face. Meeting the old woman’s eyes, a faded version of her own, the girl nodded, unsure what to say.
Somewhat to her surprise, the old woman dropped her hands and paced a few steps away before facing her. “This moment is difficult enough even when you’re leaving your family for a man or a marriage you want.”
“You’re the only one I’ll miss here.” She clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as she had blurted the truth out. To her relief, Granny did not scold her.
“The way you’ve been hemmed in all your life, that’s hardly a surprise.” The old woman’s voiceturned wistful as she moved to the four-poster bed. “You know, I was madly in love with your grandfather when we married. It didn’t last, though. I found I couldn’t respect a man who ran through the fortune he did, and I raised my daughter to take a far more practical view of matrimony.”
She fidgeted with the fringe on the bed curtain, still averting her eyes. “It was a terrible mistake. Your mother married for money, and while she’s never regretted it, you and your brothers have all suffered because of it. They grew up into hard, selfish men.” She turned and patted Diantha’s cheek. “You’ve been spared that, thank God, but you were never allowed to be alive like your mother and I were.”
The girl winced as the wrinkled hands dropped and bit into her flesh under the fashionable dress. They loosened instantly, but her grandmother kept her gaze locked on her face.
“You may not want this marriage, Diantha, but I tell you, the man you’ve married is three times the man your grandfather was and your father is.” The rheumy blue eyes darkened. “You have a chance to find happiness, Dina. Take it.”
An angry sob escaped the girl. “How? How, Granny? The man despises me! I bribed the servants to find out about him.”
