Violet didn’t trust herself to speak, so she merely nodded again.
As they walked down the hallway, she had the feeling that she was walking not to her wedding, but to the guillotine.
“This is better than your first wedding, isn’t it?” Her father chuckled. “This time, your father is here to give you away.”
Violet didn’t respond to this. She thought she would be sick as he led her down the stairs. She couldn’t breathe, but she kept going.
How many minutes have passed since Hannah left? Has she made it to the posting inn? Will James be there?
She had no hope anymore. No hope whatsoever.
The door to the parlor opened. Someone had opened it on the inside. She felt as if she were going to faint.
Her father led her into the room. It was still shabby, but someone had put several bouquets of flowers on the mantel. They’d also strewn flower petals along the aisle. Several chairs had been set up on either side. In the front row was the innkeeper and a woman who looked like his wife. Both rose when Violet and Jebediah entered.
They were looking at her with slightly bemused looks on their faces, as if they didn’t understand why they had been asked to be witnesses at the wedding of a viscount.
Violet locked gazes with the innkeeper’s wife, and the woman’s eyebrows knitted together, concern etched on her face.
She knows.She knows I don’t want to do this. But what can she do?
At the end of the aisle stood the vicar, a sickly-looking man who avoided her gaze. Next to him stood Lord Redfield. He was the only person in the room who was dressed as if he were at the wedding of a peer. His clothes were of the finest quality—they didn’t disguise the self-satisfied smirk on his lips.
A note suddenly rang out in the room, and Violet turned to see a drunk-looking man fumbling with a rickety piano in the corner of the room.
This wedding is a farce. She took a step forward.But it’s still happening.
Far too soon, she found herself standing at the altar. Her father took her hand and placed it on top of Lord Redfield’s, and she turned to face her groom.
“Dearly Beloved…” the vicar began.
“Hurry!” James yelled as he bolted down the street. “We don’t have time!”
Hannah had given them the direction to the inn, and James hadn’t stopped to try and re-saddle his horse. His urgency quickened his steps. He felt as if he were flying down the street. Those he passed looked shocked to see a gentleman racing down the street.
It was getting hard to breathe. He stopped for a moment and ripped off his cravat, then, after a second of hesitation, he pulled off his jacket. He left both on the ground, right in front of an elderly couple who were walking arm-in-arm. Both gaped at him. A little girl nearby gasped.
He began to run again.
Right at the fork, Hannah had said.Then immediately left. Two blocks, then right again. Then it’s the third building on the left. The Goosedown Inn.
Right. He turned right.
A small alleyway to his left. Did she mean that or the street farther down?
He went down the alleyway.
At the end of the lane—two blocks?—he turned right again.
And there it was, The Goosedown Inn, a green building with white shutters.
His legs were screaming at him. His lungs were burning. But as James began to run towards the inn, he didn’t notice any of the pain. Only one thought raced through his mind—Violet.
Well, two thoughts. The second thought guided his hand to the pistol, and as he arrived at the door, he cocked it.
“… but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.”
Violet could barely hear the words the vicar was saying. They went in one ear and out of the other. All she could hear was the beating of her heart and the desperate plea in her head.
