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There would be darling children—eventually. Two.

Poverty and deprivation won’t be my constant companions. I will no longer be treated as a servant. And perhaps as a titled lady, I can help the Roma. Three, four and five.

There she’d done it. Found something positive from the union.

There were a goodly number of things this marriage brought her, besides a most reticent groom. Puffing out a little breath, Vangie forced her lips upward and nodded at something Uncle Gideon asked. To be honest, she’d not a clue what it was. He could’ve been speaking about flying monkeys or singing kidney pie, and she have been none the wiser.

But what could Ian find positive pertaining to their marriage? She supposed there was a marriage settlement involved. Uncle Gideon would’ve insisted upon it, despite her adamant protests. It was mortifying to be bartered into marriage. Any man could be purchased if the inducement was large enough.

Skipping the length of the line of dancers, she cast a glance at her glowering groom. Mayhap the marriage settlement influenced his decision to proceed with the marriage. Or, perchance he was as chivalrous as she hoped, and his selfless act was indeed to protect her honor.

And pigs ride camels.

Peering at him over her uncle’s shoulder, she saw a shadow flicker across his harsh features. No, Ian wasn’t pleased to be wed. Why had he gone through with it then?

Ma-sha-llah. As God wills, Puri Daj would say. Could it be as simple as that? Not likely.

Vangie suppressed a sigh. Would this falderal never end? The pretense of portraying an ecstatic bride bordered on torturous. The day had been a whirlwind of activity, and she was done over, emotionally and physically. After eating but a few mouthfuls of flavorless breakfast, and enjoying a long soak in lily of the valley-scented bathwater, she’d been preened and groomed for hours.

Then there had been a most embarrassing discussion with Aunt Adélaid regarding wifely duties. “Vangie, the union of a man and woman is a beautiful thing. There’s pain the first time of course, but a considerate husband will do his best to lessen it and introduce you to pleasure.”

She’d wanted to die of chagrin. Worrisome thoughts she’d shoved to a remote corner of her mind consumed her. Surely Ian wouldn’t want to consummate their wedding tonight. They scarcely knew each other. Perhaps he could be persuaded to postpone the event for a few weeks. Or months—

He was staring at her with those brooding, slate eyes. She felt his gaze on her as surely as if he reached and trailed a finger over her cheek. He wanted her to look at him. She sensed it.

She wouldn’t.

He’d not find her easy to manipulate. Her attention flitted about the room, landing here and there, hovering like a bee over a flower before darting on.

She would not look at him. Drat the man. Stop staring.

Her attention strayed in Ian’s direction. She caught herself and pointedly turned her head pretending absorption in the floor-to-ceiling tapestry depicting a Grecian garden. It was as futile to resist his silent command as it had been to refuse to say his name earlier. Or refuse to marry him. He was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.

Vangie raised her reluctant gaze to his. Their glances meshed and held. She felt like prey caught in a snare, unable to look away. He was dangerous, like the panther she’d likened him to that first fateful night. Every inkling of self-preservation shouted for her to flee.

Angling himself upright, he smiled his disturbing smile. Never breaking his entrancing stare, he crossed to her. She stood rooted and mesmerized in the middle of the room, unable to tear her gaze from his.

Sweeping her into his arms, he guided her around the floor once more. His thighs brushed hers, and her breasts pushed against his coat, the silver buttons cutting into her tender flesh. He was holding her much too close for propriety.

Why didn’t she mind too terribly much?

Her new husband’s arms were bands of steel, wrapping her in an impenetrable vise. His unusual eyes peered into hers, probing, seeking—what she knew not. They roamed across her face, lingering for a disquieting moment on her parted lips before lowering to the mounds swelling from her bodice.

Vangie felt the heat of his smoldering gaze as surely as if he’d caressed her. It was as if they were alone, no one else in the room, their bodies speaking an ancient language only lovers knew. His breathing quickened, and a low, sensual sound escaped him as he caressed her bare shoulder.

She released a slight hiccupping gasp. Her breath caught and hitched in her lungs.

“I think it’s time we gave our excuses and made for home, sweeting.” His voice was a husky, suggestive rumble.

Oh, dear.

Shaken from the unnerving exchange, Vangie allowed him to lead her from the floor, though the dance had not yet ended. With her on his arm, he circled the room, accepting congratulations and thanking the guests for attending.

Faith, were they truly to leave? She sent a panicked look at Uncle Gideon. He was frowning again, his eyes trained on Ian.

His aunt offered her cheek for a compulsory kiss, then chided him. “Leaving so soon, Ian?” Turning to Vangie, the dame embraced her. “I’m most pleased you deemed to marry this pup, my dear.”

The sincerity and playfulness of her tone did wonders to ease Vangie’s brittle nerves. “Thank you, Lady Fitz...”

“Pshaw, none of that. Please call me Aunt Edith, Evangeline.”

Vangie smiled with sincere warmth. “And you must call me Vangie.”

More farewells and good wishes were exchanged before she was finally whisked into Ian’s waiting carriage. Her trunk wasn’t anywhere to be seen, not that she had too terribly much to take with her. All the clothes she’d worn while in London had been borrowed.

The carriage started to pull away from the mansion, and she blurted, “My trunk?”

“Was sent over during the ceremony.”

“Oh.” How thoughtful of him. “Thank you.”

He flicked his fingers dismissively. “Don’t thank me. I had nothing to do with it. Your aunt did.”