Gwendolyn flinched at the priest’s words.
“You may kiss the bride, Lord Sandhurst,” he repeated since she had not paid the least bit of attention whilst he sealed her fate to her groom. As if she needed a reminder that she was now wed to a gentleman not of her choosing.
She raised her red puffy eyes and stared at the man who was so old that he surely had one foot perched on the edge of his grave. How her father could promise her to a man of his ilk was beyond her imagination. That her own brother would honor the contract after their sire’s passing and condemn her to a loveless marriage tore at her heart. And the pressure he had put on her to give her consent! She would never forgive Hartford for as long as she drew breath in her body.
“My dear wife,” Sandhurst murmured with an appreciative glare. His eyes traveled the length of her body. He did not even give her the courtesy of abstaining from such a leer whilst still in a church and not behind closed doors.
The priest cleared his throat and gave Gwendolyn his own condemning look that she should be responding to her husband.
She said nothing; she simply looked at the floor showing her disdain at the union. She trembled when she glanced up and saw him lick his lips as though he were about to devour a tasty treat. He leaned forward. She choked back her anger.
It took every inch of strength not to allow her husband to see how much he repulsed her. His mouth hovered over her own before his head plunged ever downward to capture her lips. Inwardly, she groaned. His kiss was so much worse than she could have ever imagined, and when his hand clamped around her waist bringer her closer, she swore she was going to retch. Right here. In a holy chapel. God help her.
She pulled away so abruptly she lost her balance and would have spilled backwards if it were not for his firm hold continuing to keep her close…as close as could be expected, that is, given his girth. She shuddered. Lord Bernard Sandhurst chuckled in amusement. Gwendolyn could not find anything in this situation that would be cause for his merriment, but he was certainly pleased considering the gleam she saw in his pale cold eyes.
Sandhurst took her elbow and began escorting her down the aisle of the church that was relatively empty. As empty as her heart. Her husband nodded to several acquaintances. Gwendolyn passed her mother who hid a handkerchief that she surely had used to dry her eyes. Her brother, Brandon, looked as grim as she herself felt. She would not acknowledge Hartford’s presence. He may hold their father’s title of duke but as far as she was concerned, he was dead to her. As dead as her emotions would become if she was going to survive this marriage.
As they reached the rear of the church, she stumbled once more. There, barely hidden in the last pew, was a man scribbling away with his quill. Oh no, she thought. Please do not let him be from the Teatime Tattler. But luck was not on her side this day. God surely must have forsaken her for the marriage had gone through and the reporter could not have been more pleased with the day’s outcome. Mr. Clemens raised his eyes when she drew near and had the unmitigated nerve to salute her with his ever-efficient quill.
As Gwendolyn was helped into the carriage, she knew it would not be long before all of London read about her recent marriage. She could already hear the sniggering of the gossipmongers as they laughed about the duke’s daughter who could not find a man to marry who was near her own age. She would be the laughing stock of society by the Tattler’s morning edition.
The carriage door slammed shut as Gwendolyn took her seat, much like the reality that her former life was now over. She could already feel the ice quickly surrounding her heart knowing she would never find love as Lord Bernard Sandhurst’s wife. Only a miracle could save her from her fate and believing in miracles was for fools…
This is an original piece and prequel to Sherry Ewing’s work in progress, Nothing But Time. Sherry picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical & time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. Always wanting to write a novel but busy raising her children, she finally took the plunge in 2008 and wrote her first Regency. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Beau Monde & the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry is currently working on her next novel and when not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry and her published work here on her page with the Belles or on these social medial outlets:
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