Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(78)

“Six months is rather a ridiculous length of time, no?” Emmaline argued.

Mallen looked from Emmaline to Drake and then his mother, like something of a caged animal. “I—I…”





Chapter 35

Ultimately, when faced with the persistent Marquess of Drake, a pestering younger sister, and a displeased mother, the Duke of Mallen had no choice but to agree to speedy nuptials. So it was three weeks later at the Duke of Mallen’s country seat in Leeds, with a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury, Emmaline, escorted by Sebastian, walked down the intimate aisle of the family church to the man who’d upended her world.

They reached the front of the altar and Sebastian continued to stare with his gaze fixed blankly ahead.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” she whispered.

Sebastian looked down at his sister, and then shifted his gaze over to the Marquess of Drake, who eyed him with an inscrutable expression. “Hurt her and I’ll kill you.” He placed Emmaline’s hand in Drake’s and claimed his seat at the front pew.

Emmaline turned a smile up at Drake. “I think he handled that rather well,” she whispered.

A startled bark of laughter escaped Drake, causing the select few guests in attendance to erupt into a bevy of curious murmurs.

“If I may?” the vicar inquired, his tone dry. He cleared his throat and continued.

***

“Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health: and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” Drake vowed.

They were just two words, yet somehow they flowed over Emmaline like the faintest caress.

I’m dreaming, she thought, a smile on her lips.

She didn’t want to ever look away from the moss green of his eyes and the emotion she saw there. In him she saw her past; the five-year-old girl with dreams of the thirteen-year-old prince, who’d rescued her up from her knees in her father’s office. He represented the hopes she’d carried as a young lady for a love match, dreams that had defied the reality of Society’s cold, calculated unions. And now she saw her future—their future. She— Drake gave a discreet cough.

The vicar looked at Emmaline, with a dark scowl.

… forgot to speak her vows.

“Oh, I missed it.” If she weren’t standing in a church, in front of her family, a vicar, and the select members who’d been invited to their wedding, she would have cursed. She looked to Drake. His mouth twitched as though he fought back a laugh.

No help there. Emmaline sighed. What had she expected? It wasn’t as though he could reclaim the moment for her.

There was a hum of confusion amongst the small crowd.

He leaned in and whispered, “I assure you, my dear, you can still recite the words. You haven’t lost the opportunity.”

“I will,” Emmaline blurted.

Then just like that, after fifteen long years she became the Marchioness of Drake.

The smattering of applause, the flurry of signatures required of them, and the festive wedding breakfast passed in a whirl. At the conclusion of the festivities, Emmaline and Drake started for the carriage.

Drake waved off the groom who rushed forward to help. He held out his arm to Emmaline. “Shall we?”

She placed her fingers along his coat sleeves but then froze. Her brother cut a path through the small throng of well-wishers and walked over to Emmaline and Drake. He stopped in front of them.

The two men stood there. Her brother and husband locked in some silent match of the wills. Emmaline held her breath. Her brother had assented to a match between her and Drake but she wanted so much more than that. She wanted the two of them to forge a friendship. They were the two most important men in her life.

Drake broke the impasse. He held out a hand to his new brother-in-law.

Sebastian’s jaw set and for a moment, Emmaline thought he might reject the offer of peace. Then, her brother accepted the gesture. Two strong hands united with a commitment for a truce—an uneasy truce perhaps, but a truce nonetheless.

Emmaline waited until they’d finished and went up on tiptoe. She kissed her brother. “I love you.”

Sebastian scratched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable with her public show of emotion. He patted her on the shoulder. “None of that.” Then in his typical fashion, Sebastian glared at Drake. “I meant what I said in the church. Hurt her and I—”

“I heard you and would encourage you to do just that,” Drake interrupted, his tone solemn.

Sebastian, paused appearing startled by Drake’s concession. With a curt nod, he directed his attention to Emmaline. “Here.” He thrust a package at her.

Emmaline looked from him to the oddly shaped gift in her hands.

“It’s a wedding gift.”

Emmaline placed one final kiss on her brother’s cheek and then Drake made a move to hand her up into the carriage.

“I love you, too,” Sebastian blurted.

She winked. “I know.”

The doors to the carriage closed and Emmaline leaned her head out the window. She waved at their guests until they were no longer in sight, and then drew laughingly back inside.