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Disgrace.
She trembled at the reminder of how intolerably unforgiving society had been when she had rejected the viscount weeks after her initial acceptance of his proposal. She made no reply, for Fanny was a mess with the emotions rioting so forcefully inside.
“Gather your composure, we have a wedding to attend.”
Then her brother appeared from inside the church, and she was hustled down the aisle on his arm so that he could give her away.
Several minutes later, Fanny stood at the altar of the cathedral, facing the marquess, who did not have the appearance of a man who had been passionately making love to another. He peered down at her with familiar tenderness. She had been so confident he loved her. Was she so naïve and desperate for a family she had allowed a libertine to deceive her? How could she have been so mistaken in his heart and character?
Colin stated that he was giving her away before taking his seat.
The bishop began the ceremony, and she bit the inside of her bottom lip to prevent the tears burning behind her eyes from spilling over.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate…”
Please stop talking! It would not do to be fodder for gossip on her wedding day. Nor must she bring disgrace to her family. Lifting her chin, she squared her shoulders and met the gaze of the man she would pledge to love and obey for the rest of her life. He winked, a charming habit he had whenever he wanted to make her smile. But now she saw the emptiness and the lies for what it was. He did not love or esteem her, it had all been a cruel charade with a purpose she could not understand. The earl did not desire her fortune, for society knew he commanded fifty thousand pounds a year. It hadn’t been because she was an heiress.
Lord Trent had courted her so ardently with the sweetest of poems and flowers. All those long walks in the park, the picnics, and the dancing at balls. They had meant nothing to him for his plan was to send her to the country, while he resided in passionate bliss with the woman he loved. Fanny trembled, and Lord Trent frowned, concern darkening his eyes. Liar, she wanted to snarl, hating that she was reduced to this mess of pain and anxiety on a day she had been anticipating since her sixteenth birthday.
“Henry George Basil, Marquess of Trent, wilt thou have Lady Frances Elizabeth Dashwood to 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 do.”
It was becoming more difficult to breathe by the minute.
Fanny perceived she was poised on the cusp of the scandal of the season. She would make everyone forget the jubilation of their beloved Queen Victoria’s coronation, and last week’s disgrace of Sebastian Rutledge—the Iron King—in refusing to marry Miss Arabella Sutton, despite being caught in a compromising situation with the lady. No, Fanny’s scandal would be like no other.
The slice of pain that went through her heart made her tremble. I will lose everything I have been hoping for. To marry this man after what she had witnessed…
“Lady Frances Elizabeth Dashwood, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
A dreadful silence blanketed the church as the bishop waited for her affirmation. Why had she allowed herself to be persuaded to the altar? A murmur of voices penetrated her panicked thoughts, and her gaze snapped to the dozens of guests in attendance. Only one hundred or so people were present to witness the joining, but it felt as if all of society waited in judgment. If she did not commit now…if she truly walked away, she would be ruined, and nothing would render her respectable.
The knot in her throat was growing.
Her mother paled and gripped her brother's arm who seemed to observe something was wrong. Colin slowly stood, his hands clenching at his side, a warning flashing in his expression.
The bishop cleared his throat the action shaking his jowls.
“Lady Fanny, is all well?” Lord Trent asked, peering down at her.
“I saw you,” she finally answered. Her throat felt thick, and there was a tightness across her chest that made it difficult to breathe. “I saw you…with your mistress.” A woman who also waited in the pews. How did she dare stand watching the man she loved marrying another? Humiliation clawed through Fanny at the memory of how they had clung to each other only a few moments ago, and the whispered words of promises her fiancé had vowed.
The Marquess stiffened, knowledge darkening his pale blue eyes. He reached for her gloved fingers, and to the onlooker, his clasp would have seemed gentle. But her fingers ached from the way he subtly twisted them. She tried to yank her fingers back, but there was no give in the marquess’s grip.
Something awful must lurk within her, for she knew to walk away would be the ruination of all her dreams and the reputation she had struggled to reclaim. Fanny desperately wanted her own family. She was three and twenty and after the last fiasco three seasons ago when she had called off her engagement to viscount Aldridge, the scandal had been terrible. The viscount had even threatened to sue her family for breach of promise, and her father had settled an unnamed sum on him. The scandal sheet had dubbed her the runaway heiress, and for the longest time, Fanny had thought society would never accept her back again.
But they had, and she had crept from the shell she had slipped under to protect herself from their vicious gossiping, and cruel scrutiny. If she did not marry the marquess now…everything she had wanted for so very long would disappear like ashes with the wind.
Lord Trent lowered his head. “You will confirm your vows,” he warned, twisting her fingers, grinding the knuckles against each other.
A low whimper escaped her, and her heart quaked. Another revelation flowed through her soul. Not only was he a libertine who planned to order her to the country and be wicked with his mistress, but he was also cruel. This was a man who would not hesitate to beat her if she should dare defy him. How could she have been so mistaken in his character?
“You will release me, or I shall scream.”
He ignored her, and Fanny slapped him. His expression of comical dismay filled her with satisfaction. Then she walked away unable to look into the faces of her guests, especially her dearest friends and close family. With every step she felt the awful weight of their shock and judgment. Eyes followed her, the whispers of shock accumulating and cresting in a swell through the church. The news would spread through society like wildfire, and her family might never forgive her. The scandal sheets would burn for weeks with this spectacle.
Unable to walk serenely down the aisle, she ran.
