Sarah’s bridegroom, while devastatingly handsome—which was annoying given the circumstances—looked somber. A bit as though he might vomit, actually. Which was exactly the way Sarah felt. How in heaven’s name had she gone from complying with her parents’ wishes and trying to do the right thing to becoming the biggest scandal in London—all in the space of a few hours? Her mother could only sob quietly, and her father looked right through her as if she didn’t exist. But Sarah knew he’d approved the wedding—demanded it, according to Lucy—or it wouldn’t be taking place.
The archbishop read the same words that the bishop had read earlier, and Sarah’s head hurt remembering that she’d attempted this same sacrament just hours earlier with an entirely different man. The world had obviously gone mad. What sort of a fickle changeling was she that she was agreeing to this? She was a coward. She let her parents tell her what to do and when to do it. But hadn’t that always been the way?Do what you’re told, Sarah.
She might have to marry Lord Berkeley because of the damage that had already been done to her reputation, but she didn’t have to like it. Of course, she’d been informed that Lord Branford had promptly cried off, disgusted and disgraced by the hoyden he’d nearly married. Father hadn’t put up a fight at all. Apparently, he’d readily agreed to end the contract and let Lord Branford go in order to more quickly move on with the contract with Lord Berkeley.
They’d spent the afternoon going over it, Lucy had informed her. And now, what? Sarah was supposed to be pleased? Thankful that she’d been saved from her own reputation? A small part of her realized that she’d brought all this on herself. If she hadn’t run off to Scotland to begin with, she wouldn’t be in the situation she was in now. But she’d nearly got away with it. She had been moments from putting the past behind her, and then Christian had gone and done the most incomprehensible thing in the world.
She’d sat in her room alone, quietly, after Lucy left. Sarah had had hours to think this afternoon. And that’s just what she’d done. She thought about her mad trip to Scotland, her return to England, Christian’s transformation into a legend among theton,and their time together in Surrey. Finally, she’d determined shewouldmarry Lord Christian Berkeley. It seemed she had no other choice, but she knew she did. She could run away again, from all of them. Leave and never come back. But the truth was that after all that had happened and even after what he’d done today, she loved him. She loved Christian. Whether he ever was able to say it back, she knew she loved him with her whole heart. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t incensed with him.
“Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?” the archbishop intoned.
Christian’s face was a mask of stone. He looked as though he already sorely regretted his decision.
“I will,” he replied solemnly.
“Wilt thou take this man to thy lawful wedded husband?”
The words stuck in her throat. Christian tensed beside her, obviously worried that she would say no. Or flee. Even after all that had happened, she couldn’t do that to him.
“I will,” she replied just as solemnly.
There were more words, more vows, but Sarah didn’t hear them. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart as her life was linked inextricably to the man standing at her side. A completely different man from the one she’d expected when she’d climbed out of bed this morning.
“I pronounce that you are man and wife,” the archbishop declared.
There was a bit of clapping, some hugs, and some congratulations and best wishes. But Sarah didn’t remember any of that, either. There was a wedding dinner, quite out of the ordinary, given that weddings were usually held in the morning. But the group ate, toasted, and drank wine. By far the most joyous people in the room were the duchess and her set, while Sarah’s parents glowered at everyone else. All the while, Sarah couldn’t even look at her new husband seated next to her.
An hour later, she woodenly got into a coach that was set to take her to Viscount Berkeley’s London town house.Hernew town house. She was a viscountess now. Her trousseau, the one she’d picked out for a life with Lord Branford, was loaded onto the coach and the conveyance rolled off.
When they arrived at Christian’s town house, he waited for the footmen to pull down the steps, then he got out and helped her down. He tucked her arm over his and escorted her up the stairs into the foyer.
The butler was pleasant. The housemaids smiling. The house was finely decorated and smelled clean and fresh. And slightly… masculine, a little like her new husband. All of the servants bowed and welcomed her. But Sarah was still in a daze. The footmen rushed about to carry her trunk to her room. Her new husband showed her to her bedchamber on the second floor.
“I’m directly next door… if you need anything,” Christian said.
“I never want to see you again.” Sarah promptly walked into the room, shut the door, and locked it.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Christian was out of the house the next morning long before his bride was awake. He proceeded to complete every errand that needed attention, including several matters that would normally be seen to by the servants. Then he spent a sweaty midmorning fencing at the club. Finally, he ended up at Brooks’s, where he stared sullenly into a glass of brandy that he barely drank. Some of the other patrons gave him odd looks. Apparently, the story had traveled fast. He’d known it would. But no one approached him or said anything. Good. The way he was feeling today, he might bloody well punch one of them in the face if they so much as coughed in his direction.
He didn’t blame Sarah for being angry with him. He wasn’t certain why he’d done what he’d done. He only knew that he’d had to stop the ceremony. Knew it wasn’t right. Knew he couldn’t sit there in an uncomfortable church pew and watch the woman he loved—and he was quite clear on that score now—marry another man. He’d thought she loved him, too. But she certainly was angry.
Upton slid into the seat next to him. Christian hadn’t even heard the man approach.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Upton said.
“Yes,” Christian replied woodenly, pushing his glass back and forth on the tabletop between his palms.
“You’ve got to be the most unhappy bridegroom I’ve ever laid eyes upon. And what in God’s name are you doinghereof all places? Shouldn’t you be, say, in bed with your new wife?”
“My new wife doesn’t want me in her bed,” Christian ground out.
“That bad, eh?” Upton replied.
“I merely interrupted her wedding, ruined her reputation, and brought the censure of her parents and friends down on her head. Not much.”
“Yes, it does sound a bit dramatic. Seems you might have picked a better time and place, but the point is that you love her, don’t you?”
