An indelicate cough abruptly jarred her from her panicked thoughts and she snapped her head to the left so hard to look at the minister that her heavy spectacles nearly fell off of her face.
The minister let out another prompting cough, this one a touch more delicate.
“I―I―”
Taking mercy on her, the minister repeated the vows. “I, Juliet Anne Hughes;”
“I—I J-juliet Anne Hughes,” she stammered as panic settled into her chest. Her already mildly clammy palms were suddenly saturating her gloves.
“Take this, K Patrick Ludwig Ramsey, Viscount Drakely, to be thy wedded husband.”
Juliet fought for air. “T-take this, K Patrick Ludwig Ramsey, Viscount Drakely, to be my wedded husband.”
“To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?”
She would have blushed at the implication of those words if not for the current lack of blood in her upper body. Lord Drakely gave her hand a quick squeeze, and she whispered. “To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony.”
“Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; forsaking all others, keeping thee only unto him so long as ye both shall live?”
Juliet’s throat went dry. She forced herself to swallow. Her throat was still too dry to speak. Lord Drakely squeezed her hand again. Not hard, just enough to bring her back to the present. His thumb ran a line across the points of her knuckles, sending a chill up her spine. With yet another swallow, she licked her lips and in the hoarsest whisper she'd ever heard escape her lips, she repeated the vicar’s words. With each syllable uttered, her entire world spiraled further and further away from her grasp. Then, with the last word spoken, it crashed about her ears. She had truly married herself to Lord Drakely, and it was too late now to do a single thing about it.
In fact, all she could do was stand in nervous unease as the minister concluded the ceremony.
And then suddenly it was the moment she’d been waiting for all week. Lord Drakley was about to lift her veil. The only difference was, when she’d imagined it, she’d imagined she’d greet him with a smug smile. But now she couldn’t muster even the slightest hint of a smile as his large, gloved hands reached forward to unmask her.
***
Patrick fought to keep his face neutral when his eyes first connected with the face he’d just uncovered. He blinked twice in hopes his eyes were playing tricks on him. No such luck. He forced himself to unclamp his stiff jaw and swallow. Unsure of what else to do at the moment except to lean forward and chastely kiss his new “bride”, he did just that.
Steeling himself back up to full height, he grabbed her hand a little harder than he’d intended, and stretched his lips into the biggest smile he could force. He didn’t know what had just happened, but he’d find out soon enough.
“Smile, wife,” he prompted, making sure to add extra emphasis on the word wife to let her know he was not going to be played a fool.
As instructed, his new bride forced a brittle smile to her lips and stiffly nodded to all the villagers who had come out to witness their wedding.
“Let’s go,” he said tightly, giving her a slight nudge.
The two of them walked down the aisle past all the well-wishers and exited the back of the church.
“Pray explain yourself,” he spat as soon as they were out of earshot of the guests.
“I―I―”
“Am a fraud,” he supplied for her.
Grey eyes flashing fire bore into his. “I am no such thing, my lord.” Her voice was hard as steel, just like her eyes.
“Then how would you classify yourself?” he asked emotionlessly as the two of them continued to make their way to the Drakely carriage.
“Duped. Just like you.”
“Duped?” he repeated in disbelief. “I hardly believe that. But that’s of no account now. Your father has much to answer for.”
“And so do you,” she said cryptically before displaying her unladylike manners by wrenching open the door of the carriage then climbing in lacking a hint of grace. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she plopped down on the velvet squabs and crossed her arms with a huff.
“My lord,” called Mr. Hughes, walking up to him.
Patrick didn’t bother to respond verbally, he just stared at the man, daring him to try to make nice now that his secret had been uncovered.
“My lord, your man said you needed a word with me,” Mr. Hughes said uneasily.
Patrick scowled in Cruxley’s direction. That was just like the man to get himself involved where he had no business. No doubt that impertinent man found this whole thing humorous. “As a matter of fact, I do need a word with you.” He took a deep breath to help keep himself calm. “Please come to Briar Creek in an hour. I’ll be ready to receive you in my study by then.”