Chapter Four
The wedding day dawned bright and beautiful, as if to mock everything Kit had ever wanted out of life. He had avoided thinking too deeply on what it was he was about to do, and it seemed to calm his anxieties. He had not seen Marianne since becoming engaged to her, and he was not certain if his bride was going to claw his eyes out, ignore him completely, or dissolve into a mass of tears that would now be his duty to see to.
All he knew was that she had agreed to the match.
No one would tell him more than that.
Duncan was much easier now his wife and daughter were back with him, though he was surprisingly reserved on the subject of Marianne. Even Annalise, who had always been very kind and open with him, would not discuss her.
He supposed that was a sign in and of itself.
Marianne was not pleased.
Well, neither was he.
It was truly a grand day for this wedding.
He sat in the finest clothes that could be acquired on this short notice in a vestibule off of the chapel, waiting for his bride to arrive at the church. Colin’s friends were the only guests in attendance, and Marianne’s only female companion would be her sister-in-law. Colin had agreed to stand up with him, but Kit rather wished everybody would stop pretending this wedding was actually something to celebrate or deserving of the usual niceties.
Even Derek had gone to the exorbitant length of riding hell-bent for London and back to procure the special license from the Archduke of Canterbury for them, as he held more influence than all the rest of them put together; he had arrived only this morning. Kit could have done without the extremes.
Why could the minister not just pronounce them man and wife and send them on their way?
That, he supposed, was reserved for Gretna Green, and only those simplified circumstances could have it with ease.
Pity.
He sat forward and rubbed at his brow with a heavy sigh. They were leaving directly after the service and all heading back to London. It had been highly debated, but Kit was adamant that he would ride his horse and Marianne would have the carriage to herself. They would travel separately from the rest of the company, which the others were quite relieved about, including Duncan, but it did not mean they would do so sharing the same space.
Enclosed spaces with Marianne would make him nervous for quite some time, until she accustomed herself to being married to him.
So perhaps in ten years they would share a carriage.
Ten years with Marianne as his wife…
Would he live that long?
“Not even married yet, and already you look ill.”
He almost groaned aloud. She was here.
He slowly sat back and gave her a bland look, pretending his heart didn’t lurch at the sight of her in a pale muslin, her hair curled and pinned and strewn with small flowers, and a simplified veil draped down the back of her bonnet.
She was a beautiful bride.
His stomach clenched in distress.
She folded her arms and raised a brow at him. “What?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I am simply looking at my bride, is that so wrong?”
She snorted and moved further into the vestibule, leaning against the wall, looking stubborn and irritated. “Don’t say that as if it means something.”
Ah, so this would be how it was going to go. Excellent. He could fight just as well.
“Aren’t you concerned about bad luck?” he asked in a completely unconcerned voice. “You know, the bridegroom seeing the bride before they are at the altar?”
Her expression nearly made him grin. It was perfectly emotionless and left no doubt in his mind how she felt about this situation. “Things couldn’t possibly get any worse than they are now.”
The clipped bite in her tone strummed an intriguing chord within him, and he felt a little unsettled by it. “I beg to differ.”
She pursed her lips. “Pray, do tell,” she drawled, as if she truly wished he wouldn’t.
“Marksby.”
She hissed and a slight wince twisted her features, but then she was back to her usual haughty, beautiful self, her rich blue eyes steady on him. “Yes, about that. I wanted to discuss some things with you before I am bound to you.”
He slowly rose and clasped his hands behind his back. “Naturally.”
She took in a small breath and released it quickly. “First and foremost, we will never discuss that man again. I was an idiot, he was a villain, and the matter is finished.”
Kit smirked. “Is it? I rather thought it was just beginning.”
Marianne glowered. “I mean the man himself, you troll. The situation in which I find myself, as well as the scandal from it, cannot be helped, but Marksby will never be brought up again.”
If she was willing to admit that she was an idiot, he could agree to that concession. “Very well, as you wish. Next?”
Marianne nodded, but did not look pleased. “I shall retain my independence.”
Kit frowned. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you.”
“You’ll get used to that,” she bit out sharply.
He gave her a look and waited for her to explain herself.
She did in short order, her brow furrowing. “What I mean is I shall not be biddable. I am the same creature I was before, and I shall keep my societal interests and entertainments with or without you. I am not going to be only your wife and nothing more.”
Kit felt a cool smile cross his lips. “No, indeed, continue to be who you were before, as that worked out so well for you.”
Her upper lip curled in a hint of a snarl. “Toad…”
He shrugged as if it did not matter. “I will not restrict you unless you get out of hand. I mean to let you have your way in many things, mostly because I do not care. But if you bring shame or dishonor to me or to my family name, I shall have a great many things to say about that.”
She gave him a mulish sort of look.
He returned it with one of significant warning. “I mean it, Marianne. I will have your word. It is not only me that you must think about now. I have three sisters who depend on me for their futures. You will not ruin their chances simply to spite me.”
Her expression cleared and she seemed to think on that. “I can live with that,” she finally said with a nod. “You have my word. I only ask that I receive fair warning before you do something drastic.”
“What, or you might change to prevent the punishment?” he asked mockingly.
“I might,” she snapped. “Depending upon what it is I have done or you expect.”
“Just don’t make me regret this, Marianne,” he growled, raising a warning finger and stepping closer.
She smirked up at him. “I cannot promise you that. You shall regret this in about fifteen minutes, I should think.”
He returned her smirk with one of his own, which made her rock back. “Surely you don’t think me such a weakling as that.”
“No,” she said in a low voice that set his hair on edge, “I simply know your opinion of me, sir, and the affliction my presence must be for you. And while your tolerance of heartless people who think only of themselves might be low, you cannot completely avoid me unless you escape this marriage.”
She remembered those words? That was uncomfortable. He’d been harsh, but the first time seeing her after two years away had unnerved him and he’d lashed out. He had never taken it back, and he would not now. Still, it was not a particularly pleasant memory.
“Are you trying to dissuade me from our marriage?” he asked softly, keeping his voice controlled.
Her eyes suddenly became wide and pleading, her expression soft. “Can I?”
Her eagerness steeled him. He raised his chin a touch. “No.”
As he thought, her wide-eyed softening vanished in a moment and her arrogance was replaced. “It was worth a try.” She glanced back out into the chapel, then back at him. “Do you have anything to say or shall we proceed with this comedy?”
He exhaled slowly, willing his anger back firmly. “As I said, so long as you do nothing to shame me or my family, you may do as you wish. I will not be overbearing, and I shall leave you to your own devices. Except for one thing.”
“I knew it,” she muttered, tossing her head a little. “What is it?”
He leveled her his most serious glare, and she stiffened under it. “No lovers, Marianne.”
Her brows shot up. “What?”
He shook his head with determination. “No lovers. Not one. I will not be mocked in that way. Do you understand me?”
Something in his tone or his expression seemed to startle her. She swallowed hard and nodded. “I do. And I shall not squander your fortune away, either.”
Kit scoffed and started past her. “Good. Though you could not manage to, no matter now hard you tried.”
Marianne made a soft sound of amusement. “You underestimate me.”
He stopped and glanced behind him. “I tried to have them remove love and obey from the vows, but the minister refused adamantly. Pretend for his sake that you actually will.”
Now she barked a hard laugh. “Simple recitation of empty words means nothing to me. I rather think I shall hold to our conversation just now as the best sort of vow we shall attain. We will not kill each other and we will not ruin each other. Simple enough.”
Kit exhaled roughly in irritation. That was no way to begin a marriage, but it was the best he could do. “I did, however,” he continued as he started walking again, “manage to convince him that a special license trumped his psalms, so we will be spared the sermon.”
“Well, well, you may prove useful after all.”
He whirled to glare at her, but she had already gone down the hall to the front of the church so she could proceed in properly with her brother.
He squeezed his hands into fists at his sides, and turned on his heel to assume his position at the front of the church. Colin was instantly at his side, and the man at the organ struck up pompously.
“You look as though you might punch the minister,” Colin muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
“If this is not the fastest wedding service in the history of the Church of England, I might,” he replied in like manner. “And if you do not shut up, you might get some too.”
“What has you so agitated?” Colin hissed.
Kit grunted in response.
Not three seconds later, Colin sighed. “Ah, yes, I see… A very beautiful dragon, your bride.”
Kit closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, fighting for control. He did not need to be reminded of that. He knew full well how hauntingly beautiful she was, particularly today. There was no equal, and he did not have to turn and look in order to know how she entered the church and walked towards him.
She would have all of the grace and poise of royalty, a perfect bride despite the special license and rushed arrangements. No one ignorant of her situation would have suspected anything amiss. She would triumph here just as she had done in every ballroom and sitting room in London.
She was Marianne Bray.
She never did anything less.
“Don’t,” he growled when his brother opened his mouth once more.
Colin gave him a look that was a mixture of amusement and concern, then he glanced down at Kit’s folded hands, which were clenching once more. Then Colin nodded once, his expression cleared, and he obediently faced the minister.
Marianne reached Kit’s side and he turned to shake Duncan’s hand, and glanced at his bride.
She was staring straight ahead, and he saw the firm set of her perfect jaw.
And the upturn of her pert nose, raised higher than normal.
“This is your last chance,” she murmured for his ears alone.
“No, my dear,” he replied, facing the minister himself. “I am yours.”
He would swear later that he heard her screech, but no one else seemed aware of it. Still, it made him smirk as the service began, and it only faded when the vows commenced.
Well, it was all done and over now, and she was officially and forevermore Marianne Gerrard.
She wrinkled her nose up at how that sounded in her head.
She’d never really imagined any particular surname as becoming hers, but she had certainly never considered that one.
The service had been fairly straightforward, exactly as it had been for every wedding she had ever attended. The exact words and vows, the same boring intonation of the minster ringing in ears, and even the exchange of a ring, just as every wedding did. She had no idea she would be getting an actual ring from Kit, given the hastiness of the marriage, but the simple gold band with sapphire and diamonds was surprisingly elegant.
And quite perfectly suited to her tastes, actually.
And more than she thought Kit would ever give her.
If it hadn’t been shoved onto her finger with such haste and efficiency, she might have taken a moment to properly appreciate it. As it was, she could only gasp softly and look up at Kit in surprise, but he had already turned back to the minister, face impassive as ever.
Even during the vows, they had only made a show of looking at each other. Kit’s eyes had been somewhere on Marianne’s bonnet, her eyes on his cravat. It was by unspoken agreement that they did not meet eyes. That would make these vows more real, when they were anything but.
Oh, she would be a fine wife, as far as it went. She had no intention of throwing the Gerrard name to the wind, despite the temptation to do so. She had too much respect for Colin to do that, and Kit’s mention of his sisters had struck something in her. She could not ruin those girls. She might not know them, and certainly had no particular love for children in general, but it was not their fault that their older brother was so insufferable.
She would run his house with the same efficiency and finesse by which she had managed her family home before Annalise had come, and she could make the servants love her quite easily. Despite her manners towards those of her own station, she had a firm rule to never berate or injure those in her service, and in fact, preferred a gentle touch with them. And several conversations with her personal maid and her brother’s housekeeper had reassured her that it was much appreciated.
It would no doubt come as a great surprise to her husband that she had quite a bit of skill with the running of a house. And when he discovered that she had swayed the entire staff of their house to her side, he would be quite put out indeed.
And that thought cheered her immensely.
Of course, they would have to find a staff for their house first. She might not have known much about the arrangements, as they had all happened so quickly, but she knew full well that Kit Gerrard had no residence in London. Not one she could remain in, at any rate, which meant even if he did have a house, it was a bachelor’s residence, and thus fairly sparsely staffed.
All told, things were lining up fairly well for her as a wife, despite the unfortunate husband selection.
Kit’s assurances that he would let her have her way had comforted her somewhat, but she had long ago learned never to trust the word of a man without the proof to reinforce it.
Oddly enough, that bit of wisdom had come from Kit himself.
She sighed and leaned her head back against the carriage as it barreled its way towards London. Kit, as he had been in those days, had been a godsend to her. Gentle, kind, considerate, encouraging, and even charming, which seemed impossible to contemplate now. He’d always made time for her and she had never felt rushed by him or that he ever wished to be elsewhere.
Colin and Duncan had become friends when they were thirteen and fourteen respectively, and Kit usually followed where Colin went, mostly to keep him out of trouble. Many of their adventures took place in London, but occasionally, the boys were invited to Shropshire, when their aunt Agatha allowed it.
She’d never met Aunt Agatha, but Kit and Colin’s stories about her were horrifying enough.
Marianne had been a fairly timid child, but pretended at bravery for her brother’s sake, and even so young, she had been an accomplished enough actress that he had never suspected how insecure she truly was. But being eight years younger than her rambunctious brother had often had her feeling left out, and only one person noticed.
It was only after a gentle, teasing prod from Colin’s quiet twin that she opened up at all. They started a sort of secret friendship, the two of them, and while their loud siblings carried on, Kit worked tirelessly to see that Marianne had a companion, encouraging her voice and her opinions.
He’d been so much older than her that it should have been the height of inconvenience for him to entertain the imaginative child she had been, but he had never given her the slightest indication of any such thing. Once she opened up to him, she’d never quite shut up.
They’d never been particularly regular visitors, but their pattern became routine. Marianne would find some corner of the house or grounds away from where Colin and Duncan would go, and Kit would find her and stay with her until the visit was completed, or they would join in with the others. He always seemed to know where to find her. There was never anything romantic in their visits together, for she was a child and he only ever treated her with politeness and light teasing. No, he had simply become her closest confidante and the brother she had always wished for, despite her love for Duncan.
He had not laughed when she’d told him of her plans to be a grand lady, as Duncan and Colin, soon joined by Derek and Geoffrey, all had. Kit had seen to it that she felt encouraged when she learned a new skill, brought her the gossip from London, though she knew nothing about it, and had even been her first dance partner, when Tibby had seen fit that she should learn.
Kit hated dancing, but for Marianne, he had done so.
They’d laughed far too much to ever actually learn anything.
But she was twelve, and dancing at all was such fun.
The visits became less and less frequent as they both grew older, as was proper and as the business of their lives required. But he had always called when he could, and listened to her tireless complaints about her aunt and her governesses, her stories of Duncan’s time in the army, and had comforted her when she confided her fears that she would lose her brother to the French, despite his being stationed far from them.
Kit had always known what Marianne was thinking, and could usually warn her off of a course before she ever opened her mouth about it. It had infuriated her, but only so far as that he always knew, not that he kept her from it.
Where Colin had teased her, Kit had nurtured her.
She had loved them both as brothers.
But Kit… He had been something special to her.
At her first ball, her brother being away with his regiment, Kit had been the one to claim the first dance. She had been terrified, but his calm and steady voice, and the certainty in his eyes, had set her to rights. Hardly anyone else had asked her to dance, but Kit had made sure she never wanted for entertainment. He teased her endlessly about several gentlemen in attendance, and any nerves or tension had eased from Marianne’s shoulders, and she had very much enjoyed the entire evening.
The Season as a whole, however, had been a disaster. Not a single man showed interest in her. Her callers had been older women and other girls in their first Season. No hints of courtship or romance, or even friendship.
Kit had not been able to stay the full Season, his duties to his estates requiring his attention, but Colin, as usual, had remained for all of it, and had taken up the charge to be Marianne’s protector, chaperone, and court jester. Not that he was needed, of course, as Marianne had rarely been invited anywhere.
Her next Season, she determined, would be much different. She would pretend at confidence, even if she did not have it, and she would stop waiting to be noticed, but command attention.
And when Kit came in the midst of her second Season, he had found an entirely different Marianne from the year before.
She was at the height of fashion, was noticed, invited, and praised. This Marianne had no flaws or faults, no insecurities, and three offers of marriage, six of courtship, and a steady stream of male callers weekly, none of whom would have done for any creature of sense.
And that had become Kit’s favorite topic. He teased her endlessly about the men swarming her, his dry sense of humor studiously analyzing each one as if for serious consideration. It had provided her with hours of amusement, and she found herself collecting men just to see what Kit would say about them.
Then that horrible, hot summer day…
The carriage jerked to a halt and Marianne jolted awake, having been entirely unaware of ever falling asleep. She sat upright and rubbed at her eyes, glancing out of the window to find it was nearly dark.
The door was opened and Kit appeared, looking rather too perfectly put together for riding his horse all day.
“Would you like to stop for the night?” he asked stiffly, his eyes meeting hers, but not seeing her. “Or drive on through?”
Still sore about the memories that had plagued her, and rather wishing he would go away, she scowled. “I do not care.”
A muscle twitched in Kit’s forehead, but nothing else in his expression altered. He nodded once. “Very well. We will stop.” He held out a hand to help her out.
Marianne sniffed and took it with the bare tips of her fingers just for the sake of steadying herself, and snatched her hand away the moment her feet hit the ground. “Trying to be considerate?” she sneered.
“Yes,” he said simply.
She looked up at him in disbelief.
He did not look at her as he straightened his gloves and brushed at his coat. “My horse is exhausted after riding so hard all day. He deserves a good night of rest before doing it again.”
He strode towards the inn, leaving her gaping in indignation behind him.
If she had the power to burn with her eyes, she would have been a widow already.
She huffed, lifted the hem of her skirts, and followed him, wondering what sort of scandal a secret marriage of less than eighteen hours that ended in murder would cause.
It might have been worth it.