Chapter 3
Her world, as she knew it, careened to its end. And, she could do absolutely nothing about it. How fair was life when a woman, any woman of any class, had no control of her destiny? When the men of both the rich spheres and the poor could tell her where to go, when to go, and whom to marry? Why could she not have been born a male? Then she could have been her father’s heir. After all, Chase had no interest whatsoever in their father’s merchant business. Then she could have picked her helpmeet and married for love or money or both as she chose fit without the humiliation of being used as a mere pawn in a game of money, power, and titles. She envied her brother’s laissez-faire attitude. He could afford to play the rake, one of The Unattainables, as long as their father lived. Once gone, Chase could run the business or sell it and live off the proceeds. The latter possibility, the more likely, in her brother’s case.
“Are you ready, my dear?” Her father came up beside her in the best suit of clothes money could buy. “Don’t worry, Marianne. It will all work out for the best.”
No, she would never be ready for this assault on her personal values and purpose but her opinion was neither wanted nor accepted. Nor could she imagine that this debacle would ever work out for the best, or work out at all.
“As you wish, Father.” Defeated, the battle, even the war, conceded now, she had lost and she would never be found. Her only victory was the small, quiet ceremony she had begged for rather than the grandiose affair her parents had planned. Her parents, her brother Chase, the earl, and her betrothed would be the only attendees before the vicar. No matter how fabulous the wedding would have been, the entire ton would have attended out of morbid curiosity and fodder for disparaging defamation. How could she face the gossips who snickered behind her back? Such an event would have made her plight even more mortifying.
But she had spared no expense on what she expected to be her only wedding gown. She had decided to flatter herself as much as possible with the full skirt in the palest grey silk sprigged with small pale pink flowers and a bodice in the pink of the flowers that had a wide décolleté that complimented her full bosom and tapered to her waist. There was not a ruffle or ribbon to be seen. When she added the confection of a hat with the palest of grey and pink flowers and sheer veiling, she looked and felt more beautiful than her opinion of the day warranted.
Her father cleared his throat, bringing her out of her reverie.
It was time.
He led her from the vestibule into the chapel where she looked up to see her intended dressed in his silk and satin finest and the ugliest color one could imagine. Could it possibly be puce? Ruffles everywhere. He sniffed his handkerchief. He could not be taking snuff, could he? As he saw her start toward the altar, he had the audacity to pull out his quizzing glass and, with great flair, put it to his right eye.
Her stomach roiled with the frustration of it all.
~ ~ ~
Drew girded his loins as he stood by the altar, the vicar to his right, his father to his left and his bride walking straight toward their soon-to-be joint destiny.
How sad that even a man of his station could not marry the woman he chose. Though as yet he had not found one he wanted. Rumor had it he preferred men. Not in the least true, of course. He had just never found a female who engendered his interest.
His new bride was no exception. Other than the energy that sparked between them whenever they touched, she had little to recommend her. Acceptable but no great beauty. Polite but no great passion. And no great intelligence. At least none that he could discern during the few times they had been in company over the past month. She’d hardly said a word, much less strung together a series of coherent, interesting sentences. Yet he had to take her money for the good of his father’s finances, bed her and get her with child as soon as possible for the promise of future generations.
If she would only have a son quickly so he would be free to go about his own concerns once more.
If God would only hear his prayers. Maybe it would help to be standing in a cathedral rather than this small, nondescript chapel. What a disappointing location in which a man of his stature would be married.
He perused his bride as she walked hesitantly toward him. He had to admit she looked quite lovely today. Evidently her family had pulled out all the stops and lavished a great deal of wealth on her presentation. The sprigged pale grey muslin fit her well and, as she gained her footing across from him and turned her tear-stained face up, her pale blue eyes looked all the bluer because of the blue-tinted grey silk.
He swallowed hard, realizing that the girl, too, was not exceedingly excited about their state of affairs. Evidently even a merchant’s daughter could choose not to aspire to a title.
This thought gave him little respite from his own doubts as the vicar cleared his throat and started the proceedings.