With a bit of help from the coachman for appearances’ sake, Juliet descended the stairs and stood off to the side to wait while he went to help Mother and Henrietta down.
“Shall I attend you?” Henrietta asked lightly.
Juliet looped her arm through her sister’s. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll join you,” Mother added as she adjusted her hat.
The trio slipped into the side of the small village church and walked down the hall to the little room where Juliet would wait for the wedding to start.
Of course it wasn’t the usual custom for a viscount to marry in an ordinary village church. And, it certainly wasn’t customary to marry so soon. But as Juliet was quickly learning, Patrick Ramsey, Viscount Drakely, was not a customary or ordinary man. She sighed, and folded her hands in front of herself. If he’d insisted on a sizable wedding in London on a Saturday after posting the banns, and inviting everyone from the younger sons of the youngest sons of the lowest baronet to some of the most powerful dukes in the land, she would have found a way to tell him the truth.
But since he wasn’t so concerned with appearances, she’d just go along with his scheme and let destiny run its course. And if it wasn’t in his favor, like he was thinking it would be, then so be it.
A quiet tapping on the door startled Juliet. “That didn’t take long.”
“Indeed,” Mother agreed, reaching forward to straighten her dress just once more as Henrietta went to the door to open it for Father.
“They’re ready for you,” Father said, walking across the threshold.
“But Mother?”
“She’ll be seated; then it will be your turn,” Father said. He came to stand between Juliet and his wife. “Come, Henrietta.”
Dutifully, Henrietta followed them out the door and down the narrow passage. “I’ll just slip in the back,” Henrietta murmured when they reached the broad double doors.
Juliet froze and sent up a silent prayer that Lord Drakely didn’t see Henrietta. If he did, her plan wouldn’t work. Her hands grew clammy. She squeezed them tightly together. She’d come this far, she’d see it through to the end. Not only did he deserve to be put in his place, but Juliet Hughes had never been one to give up easily, and she wasn’t going to let this pompous man cow her.
With a swallow, she turned her face just enough to bring that little hole in her veil that was situated just in front of her left eye closer to her face so she could watch her mother walk into the sanctuary and find her seat. Releasing one of her tight fists, she wiped one of her sweaty palms on her skirt, then chanced a glance at her father. He looked happy. Proud even. Would he still look that way if he knew what she was thinking? She quickly dismissed the thought. This was all Lord Drakely’s folly, and he deserved what was coming. He’d asked to marry Juliet, he was getting Juliet. He might call off the wedding, but her father didn’t need to know that she’d known all along about the misunderstanding.
“Ready, my girl?” Father asked.
She squeezed his arm affectionately. “I’m ready when you are, Father.”
A moment later, she was walking down the short, stony aisle that was covered in the best red velvet carpet runner that could be found on such short notice. When she and Papa reached Lord Drakely, Father gently removed his arm from her hold and gave her fingers one final squeeze before placing her now trembling hand into Lord Drakely’s larger one.
Not counting the time his strong hands kept her from connecting with the floor, this was the first time they’d actually touched and through two sets of gloves, she could feel his warm skin scorching hers. She licked her lips and tried in vain to steady her nerves as she stared at him through the small pinhole in her thick wedding veil. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard that the inside of her mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.
Despite her vision being greatly restricted by the heavy veil, Juliet still caught brief snatches of what her “groom” looked like. She stared at him shamelessly. He was at least six feet tall, a good eight inches above her. His skin was smooth and tanned with a hint of stubble already coming in on his chin. His hair was black as coal, his slightly curving eyebrows matched perfectly, offsetting the pair of dark brown eyes resting beneath them. He had high cheekbones, a slim nose, a pronounced, square jaw that only served as further proof of his noble bloodlines. Although his lips were closed, she doubted nothing less than two beautiful rows of flawless teeth would be found if he were to smile. She twisted her lips. It was sickening how handsome he was!
The minutes ticked by quickly as the minister spoke then turned to Lord Drakely to wait for him to repeat his vows. Juliet’s blood froze in her veins. Wasn’t he supposed to lift her veil before reciting his vows? Nervously, she licked her lips, and racked her brain. She’d only been to one other wedding and that bride hadn’t even worn a veil. Her heart started pounding. Fast. What did she do now? Should she—