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His imagination worked frantically. She had been conveyed to the church in a carriage, her dishevelment made no sense. He resisted an urgent desire to rip the prayer book out of Hodgson’s hands and drag his bride from the church in order to hear a full explanation. Not ten minutes ago he had impatiently waited for the ceremony to begin and now he waited impatiently for its end.

By chance he caught Victoria’s eye. He smiled softly but received no response. She looked absolutely wretched. He continued to hold her gaze, as the rector’s voice hummed in the background. On an impulse he wiggled his ear at her. Satisfaction swept over him as she lost the battle to contain a small smile. A sparkle crept back into her eyes and she gave his hand a squeeze.

At last, the rector bade them rise and, tucking his wife’s hand firmly into the crook of his arm, Taviston led them from the church.

When he saw the carriage he had ordered sitting in front of the church, Taviston cursed under his breath. It was an open landau and would afford them no privacy whatsoever to discuss what had beset Victoria. With a grimace, he handed her up and tried, once again, to suppress his impatience. He climbed up behind his wife. Would that word ever sound normal?

He and Victoria gave brief waves to the crowd gathering outside the church. They and many more would be waiting to congratulate them back at Taviston House within no time.

He turned back to see how she fared. She looked up into his eyes and commanded softly, “Kiss me.”

Without hesitation he grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her closer while his lips descended to hers. The more raucous members of the crowd sent up a cheer. For propriety’s sake Taviston attempted to make the embrace brief, but when he tried to pull his head back, Victoria’s lips clung to his with urgency and her hand stole up to cradle his cheek.

Surrendering to her will, he continued the sweetly gentle kiss. Her lips tasted of honey and felt as soft as rose petals beneath his. He sensed some of her earlier tension melting away and realized he too found the light caress comforting after the turmoil of their wedding ceremony. With a breathy sigh she slowly withdrew and folded her hands in her lap, staring out the other side of the landau.

“Victoria, what happened?”

She locked eyes with him ever so briefly then fixated on her hands. “We haven’t time to discuss it now.”

He knew that. He did. But again, patience was not a strength he enjoyed. “That is—was—a lovely dress.”

“Thank you,” she said wistfully, her head still down. “Oh!” She splayed her left hand out and twisted the wedding ring around her finger. Emeralds and diamonds marched around a band of gold. “It’s beautiful. Emeralds are my favorite. Is it a family heirloom?” Her inquisitive eyes found his.

“No, it is not.” He tried to ignore the disappointment shadowing her eyes. “I purchased it the other day.”

“You did? Might...might I ask why?”

Was she asking why he didn’t give her a family ring, or why he had purchased this particular ring? Good questions, both. He had personally glossed over them himself in the last week.

Victoria had gone suddenly still and stared at a fixed point over his shoulder. Was she that upset he hadn’t given her a Danforth heirloom? Taviston decided not to explain why he’d bought the ring. He threw out a vague, “You needed a ring.”

“Oh, of course.”

She dropped the ring-laden hand back into her lap but continued to focus her gaze behind him. He glanced back but saw nothing but the still cheering crowd. Taviston signaled the coachman and the landau rumbled forward, making quick work of the short distance to Taviston House.

Halston quietly congratulated them as they entered the house, and they accepted graciously. Taviston knew they had precious little time before the wedding breakfast began. His curiosity was not of high importance at the moment.

Victoria turned to ascend the grand staircase. He called her name, more sharply than he had intended.

“Yes?”

“About the gown...”

She took a step toward him and lashed out. “The gown. I apologize for ruining the blasted gown, all right?” Her eyes flashed defiantly, and he was glad of it. He did not like to see her so despondent.

With calmness and yes, patience, he said, “I only meant to inform you that Madame Broussard finished a few more gowns for you and had them sent over. I thought perhaps one of them might be suitable enough to change into. Though I do compliment you on your taste, I think you might be more comfortable in something else at this time.”

She blinked several times, parted her lips as if to speak, closed them firmly, then gave him a perfunctory nod and escaped up the stairs. The swaying of her hips mesmerized him. His head overflowed with an abundance of emotion, most of them unidentifiable. And he didn’t want to identify them. Something had changed. Either her, or him, or perhaps both of them. But he didn’t have time to contemplate any of it right now. Even his plan to chastise her for her unpunctuality had faded away. He only wanted to know what kind of event could so remarkably affect his wife.

Alas, duty called.

VICTORIA CLOSED THE door to her new bedchamber and sagged against the thick mahogany. She had been married for

twelve hours now and had at long last escaped from everyone. How could one person, or rather two she amended, be expected to socialize for twelve hours?

The “breakfast” had spanned six hours by the time the last preening guest had left. Then she and her husband had spent another two hours chatting with close friends such as the Northfields and the Daventrys. After that, their presence had been required at a family dinner—family in the all-encompassing sense of the word. She had met Taviston’s three aunts, two uncles, seven cousins, one great-aunt and six second cousins. No, it might have been seven second cousins and six first cousins. She had wanted family. She now had them in spades.

A shudder passed through her. Spade. Sinking down onto the luxurious emerald green satin coverlet, she let her hand trail over the slippery surface as she soaked up the silence. For the first time since she had actually accomplished the feat of making it to her wedding, she savored that moment.


Tags: Charlotte Russell His and Hers Historical