"Of that I am aware." His voice was low. His pain obvious, filling each word to overflowing.
"Why?" The words were low, so low he almost didn’t catch it. As it was, he had to lean in to catch it. Up close he saw her throat working with the heavy words. He caught her faint lemon scent.
She quieted, clasping her own hands in a white grip. "Why do you want to marry me?" she asked again, raising her wide, red-rimmed eyes to his own.
"It is done, Amelia," he turned away from her, unwilling to see the effect of his actions. “The contract is signed and the banns will be announced tomorrow. We wed soon.”
"What spurred you to consider me a match? You proposed before..." She stopped again, and it hurt him. Her refusal to acknowledge what transpired between them.
"Our union, Amelia. Say it," he demanded.
She conceded with a soft sigh, "Our union."
He savored her brief moment of surrender. "I will have a wife perfectly suited to becoming the next duchess and you will have a husband to take care of you," he explained.
"I do not need a husband," she bit out, barely restrained.
He lost his control at the thinly veiled disgust in her voice. "No matter how you rail at this world, see reason. I am not the author of your woes. I share in them too, this slavery to the rules of Society. Let us play our part well and without undue friction. Perhaps someday a world will exist where a female does not need the protection of a husband to live as she pleases, or anybody else for that matter if she doesn’t want it. All I know is that our world isn’t so, and if we rail at it, it still wouldn't stop in its colossal stride to treat our concerns kindly." She was quiet through his diatribe.
She recovered fast, her return shot deadly. "So, I will play in this farce?"
"It is no farce. We will be married," he answered in the same vein.
"In name only!" Her words filled the room, tore every hope out of his chest and steeled him. She turned her head away from him and sighed.
"Even so, it will be done. Betrothal contracts are binding," he reminded softly and headed for the door.
Chapter Fourteen
It was a miserable two weeks. The sun shone disgustingly bright, her mother’s flower gardens bloomed, and the head groom reported that White Comet, her prize filly, was the favorite at the upcoming two-year-old races. And yet nothing penetrated her cocoon. She ate though the food had no taste, walked through the gardens that lacked all color and lay passively in bed staring at her canopy until late in the night.
And then it was the morning of her wedding. Mary rose her early and laid out her best dress, the pale blue silk with silver lace that she had worn to make her coming out. Amelia was docile as a doll, allowing Mary to curl her hair with hot tongs, pinning it up with pearl-tipped pins. “There, milady. A little more rouge? A bride is expected to blush.” Amelia was startled to see a lovely pale creature in the mirror. Was that hope in her eyes? “Thank you, Mary. You have done a wonderful job.”
The head gardener gave her a bouquet of sweet-smelling flowers. She clutched them tightly on the steps of the church. The sight of his bright red hair and broad shoulders caused life to course back through her veins. This was her bridegroom. This was her future. His hands were warm and dry as he slipped on her wedding band. The grey despair gave way to golden peace. He looked startled at her broad smile, and then covered it with a quick kiss. They were married.
They did not have the opportunity to talk, but Amelia was sure that he also felt this strong conviction. She accepted congratulations and felt a little bubble of giddiness at her new name. Lady Windon, Robert’s wife. For the first time she wondered about the new estate where they would live. Did it have a formal garden, or a nature park? Should she move the racing stable there, or perhaps hire a racing master to oversee the operations here? She looked around to quiz her husband about her new home just in time to see his grey morning coat leave the room. She hurried after him.
"Robert." The word stopped him, but he didn't turn around. “I wondered if you would tell me a bit more about the stables at Windon Park.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
He let out a snort. “Of course. They are quite large, but rather antiquated. I have several mares I am quite proud of. You shall have a fine mount when you visit.”
“Visit?” Her step faltered, “What do you mean?”
He continued on, walking away from her. “You are welcome anytime, of course.”
“Are we not going together, tod
ay?”
“There is no need.”
Amelia worried her bottom lip. “But what about, the marriage night?”
“You made it clear that this was not that sort of marriage.” He tried to force the words out evenly. She looked untouchable and sweet in that confection of a dress, but he knew there was fire under the ice.
"I don’t understand.”
"Did you think I would break my word?" He turned on her with a roar. She shrank back, and he put his passions back on a much mended leash. "I wish you well, Amelia. This will be an easy marriage for you. Most brides have to leave home, but you can stay here."