Chapter 2
Sebastian didn’t expect that she would take his declaration well.
And he was right.
“What?” she exclaimed.
“You need to marry someone, and if you won’t wed Perry, you will marry me. It’s the only way.”
Her brow crinkled. “It’s not the only way.”
“It’s the only way I’ll allow. I know how small your dowry is. You’re not going to be an impoverished spinster if I can help it. And I can.”
“If it’s the money you’re concerned about, you could settle a few thousand pounds on me. You certainly have it to spare.”
“And make you a target for unscrupulous fortune-hunters? The devil I will.”
“My goodness. What a low opinion you have of my ability to choose suitors.”
He stepped back and made a show of searching the room. “The last man you chose to wed isn’t here.”
He saw her flinch, and he regretted his harsh tone. He didn’t want to hurt her. She deserved to be courted by scores of men and worshipped by the lucky fellow she chose. But the world they lived in wasn’t fair. That damned Perry would go on to have a fine life, and Mary would pay the price—with her prospects, her reputation, her friends, her influence.
She sighed. “I know you see this as your problem to solve, with Henry gone. But Henry cared about you, too. He wouldn’t want you to throw your future away out of misplaced loyalty.”
“My loyalty is not misplaced. In fact, there is nowhere else my loyalty could be placed. I don’t have anyone else.” He forged on, wanting to escape the softness in her eyes. “As for the suggestion that I’d be throwing away my future, I won’t even dignify that with a response.”
“I’m not helpless, Sebastian.”
“I know you aren’t. But it’s what’s best. No one will fault you. It’s exactly something society would expect me to do, kidnapping a bride from the altar. I’m a shameless rogue.”
“No, you’re not.”
He refused to take up that argument. “You’ll be a lady. A wealthy one. I’ve always known I’d need a wife eventually.”
“But…I’m too old,” she blurted out.
“You’re not old.”
“I’m older than you.”
“By two years.”
“Closer to three. Most men want a younger bride.”
“I’m not most men.”
She looked at him and sighed. “Yes, I’d noticed.”
Well, he’d done more than notice Mary. She’d captured his attention from the very first, and all because she was older. She was more worldly and interesting than the girls his own age. Not to mention, her womanly figure had been a source of both temptation and torment.
And on that subject…
“There’s one thing you should know,” he said. “I am a lord, even if a disgraced one. There’s still an entail on the family property.” He paused. “I’ll need a son. And that means we’ll have to…” He searched once again for a polite term.
“Share a bed.”
“Do you know what that involves?” He assumed that someone would have given her some idea, but he wanted to be absolutely certain that she knew what she’d be undertaking.
For Sebastian, of course, the bedding would be no chore. He’d imagined making love to her more than once.
Who was he fooling? He’d imagined it hundreds of times. He’d even dreamed about her, long after he thought he’d ceased dreaming of anything.
“I understand the marriage bed,” she said in perfect innocence. “The husband kisses the wife on the lips, and then she becomes pregnant.”
He stared at her, quietly panicked.
She broke into laughter. “I know how intercourse works, Sebastian. Even if I haven’t experienced it yet.”
Thank God. “So you understand that in order to create a child, we’ll need to … do that. At least once. Possibly several times. Even then, the child could be a girl. In which case, we’d have to begin all over again. But I promise, I’d impose on you no more than necessary, and only when you’re ready.”
She shook her head. “You are running so far ahead of yourself, you’re a vanishing dot on the horizon. Right now, I need to announce that this wedding isn’t happening. After an appropriate interval—a few months, at the least—we can discuss this again. If you still feel the same, and if I agree, we can announce an engagement then. Maybe a wedding in October.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Christmas, then.”
“Definitely not.” He’d managed to talk her into this. He wasn’t giving her months of time to change her mind. “We’re getting married today.”
*
“Today?” Mary echoed. He’d flown past determined, straight into the realm of deranged.
He made a circuit of the vestry, gathering her things. Flowers, veil, wrap. “Your trunks are packed, I assume.”
“They’re outside, in the coach that Giles hired. We were going to leave for the honeymoon directly after the wedding.” Thank goodness they’d planned for a small ceremony at the church, with no wedding breakfast. At least there weren’t many witnesses to her humiliation.
“So that’s sorted. And you’re wearing a gown.”
“We can’t marry today,” she declared, having recalled that she was the daughter of a solicitor and claimed more than a passing familiarity with the law. “We don’t have a license, and no banns have been read. It simply isn’t possible. So there you have it.”
He stopped and considered this. “You’re right, we’ll need a special license. Which means we’ll go to Canterbury and be married there.”
“Oh, Lord. You’ve taken leave of your senses. This explains so much.”
“My parents are both dead, as are yours. And now Henry, too. We don’t have families to attend the ceremony. Or to object.”
“I object.” She spread her arms. “Here I am, standing right in front of you. Objecting.”
“You’re not objecting on any reasonable grounds. You’re just being contrary.”
“Well, you’re just being hot-headed.”
“I’m not hot-headed. I make swift decisions, often ruthless ones. The estate would have gone insolvent years ago otherwise. But when I heed my gut, I’ve never had cause to regret it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yet.”
He took her by the hand and fairly dragged her out the vestry’s side door, hurrying her toward the waiting coach. “I have a seaside property. A mere cottage, but it’s situated nicely on the cliffs near Ramsgate, just a few hours’ journey from Canterbury. It’s the ideal place to spend a week or two away from London. Less gossip that way.”
The gossip.
Heavens, there would be so much gossip.
Well, if there was going to be gossip about her, Mary supposed she would vastly prefer gossip about how she’d been kidnapped by a shameless, sensual rogue, rather than gossip about how she’d been abandoned at the altar by the milquetoast son of a barrister. Passionate was better than pitiful.
“If we leave now,” he said, “we’ll arrive at the cottage by nightfall. I came here on Shadow, so I’ll ride out. But I’ll be alongside the coach every step of the way.”
He handed her into the carriage, then conferred with the coachman. Bribing him handsomely, she supposed. He was always a man who acted decisively, but she’d never seen him so resolved. Not since he’d declared that he’d purchased a lieutenancy and meant to go off to war.
She flung open the carriage door. “Sebastian, wait.”
He reluctantly turned back.
“What about love?” she asked him quietly. “Don’t you want to marry for love?”
“I’d rather marry someone I trust.”
“Love and trust go hand-in-hand.”
“Not in my family, they didn’t.”
Mary’s heart ached for him. The first time he’d come home with Henry from school, he’d been so mistrustful and withdrawn. Wearing so much invisible armor, it practically clinked as he walked. Over the years, he’d grown comfortable in their home, revealing more and more of himself. Letting down his guard.
But after the war—after Henry died—everything had changed. He’d walled himself away again. She didn’t know how to reach him, and she worried he’d never let anyone else draw close enough to try.
“You’re being so good to me,” she said. “I appreciate it, more than you know. But you needn’t do this. I may find I’m well-suited to being a spinster. Or perhaps someone will care enough to wed me despite the scandal.”
“Someone already does, Mary. You’re looking at him.”
In the silence that followed his words, they were both very still.
“If you think I’m being selfless, let me assure you I’m not. I could not keep Henry alive, and that failure will haunt me until I die. You must allow me to protect you, or I won’t know how to live with myself. You’ll have my title and my wealth at your disposal. As a lady of means, you can champion any cause you desire. Aside from giving me an heir, your life will be your own. Let me protect you. That’s all I ask.”
How could she say no to that? Mary rummaged through her mind for one last objection, but came up empty-handed.
No, not empty-handed. Sebastian’s hand was in hers. If she married him, she wouldn’t be alone. And neither would he.
Good heavens. She was truly going to be Mary Ives, Lady Byrne.
She gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Take care on the road.”
*
It wasn’t quite the wedding Mary had expected.
No, it was much grander. And far more romantic.
Even with a rushed elopement, no guests, and a wedding gown crumpled from travel, the setting was undeniably enchanting. The soaring beauty of the cathedral, the solemn priest in his vestments, the spicy fog of incense. Fading sunlight shone through the stained glass windows, sending crescents of blue and red gliding across the floor.
The scene felt magical, timeless.
And she had the handsomest groom. Sebastian had never looked finer. He fit right into the medieval setting. Like a knight in invisible armor, ready to take on an impossible quest. Mary wasn’t certain of her role in this story. Was she the fair maiden he sought to please, or was her broken engagement merely a dragon he needed to slay? His hardened jaw gave no clues.
As the priest began the ceremony, the words washed over her in a hushed murmur.
Sebastian’s part came first, and he nearly stepped on the priest’s words with his firm, “I will.” No hesitation.
Then the priest turned to her. “Mary Elizabeth Clayton, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”
She nodded. Thus far, everything sounded acceptable.
“Wilt thou obey him…”
Oh, dear.
“…and serve him…”
She cringed.
“…love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live? If so, answer, ‘I will.’”
Mary hesitated.
“If so,” the priest repeated, leaning on the words, “answer, ‘I will.’”
She couldn’t say it. Not quite yet.
She addressed Sebastian directly. “I don’t have to do this, you know. I do have a choice.”
“What choice? To be a ruined spinster surviving on a meager income?”
“It wouldn’t be so bad as you’re implying. At least I’d be free to do as I like.”
“Mary,” he said in a low voice, “this is not the time to argue for the sake of arguing.”
“I’m not arguing. Just listen to me for a moment, will you?”
“I don’t see the point in discussion.”
“Well, I see the point in it,” she said, affronted. “When I have something to say, I’d like to be heard. Especially by the man who’ll be my husband.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m taking you back to—”
“Ahem.” The priest looked perturbed. “Shall we return to the ceremony?”
“I’m paying for a new chapel,” Sebastian snapped. “You can wait until my bride and I are finished speaking.”
Mary found his gruff protectiveness oddly endearing, especially since it came under the imminent threat of damnation.
“I’m making a choice, Sebastian. That’s all I meant to say. When I make these vows, I’m choosing to do so freely. I’m choosing this.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m choosing you.”
The casual observer would never notice it, but Mary knew her words had a profound effect. The tension left his shoulders, and suddenly his flinty eyes weren’t quite so stern.
For the moment, at least, the warrior had lowered his shield.
She looked at the priest. “I’m ready now.”
“If so, answer, ‘I will.’”
She looked into her groom’s eyes. “I will.”
The remainder of the ceremony was brief, in part because there were no rings. Sebastian didn’t even have a signet ring. He would have never worn anything of his father’s, and most especially not that.
There were vows and a prayer or two, and before Mary even knew it, the thing was over.
“I pronounce you man and wife.”
It was done. They were married.
Sebastian leaned forward as though he would kiss her, but then he seemed to change his mind. She might have suspected he’d lost his nerve, if she didn’t know Sebastian to be entirely composed of nerve to begin with.
Instead of kissing her lips, he brushed a kiss to her cheek and then rested his temple against hers. A tender gesture, somehow more intimate than a kiss.
“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “Always.”
“I know you will,” she whispered back.
Mary had no doubt in her mind whatsoever that Sebastian would provide for her every need and guard her with his life.
But it was probably going to knock him on his arse when he learned that she intended to do the same. He needed understanding, warmth, family, love—and she needed all those things, too. This was not going to be a practical arrangement, nor a way for him to satisfy his conscience.
This was going to be a marriage.
And that marriage started tonight.