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It seemed but a minute before they were walking out of the church greeted with cheers and showers of flower petals. Many from the area had gathered outside the church to catch a glimpse of the woman who’d managed to ensnare the most eligible bachelor in Glasgow. Prying curious eyes boring into Siobhan dissecting everything about her.

Finally, they were settled in the carriage, which she was grateful was an enclosed one and rode off toward the Johnstone estate.

“Finally alone,” Miles said, taking her hands and kissing her knuckles. “How do you feel?”

“Breathless,” Siobhan replied searching his face. “You?”

Instead of a reply, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her. “I am not sure.”

The reply was honest, and she should have been grateful that he did not lie. However, her chest tightened because he’d not said something more positive.

Unfortunately, it was the first of more disappointments to come that evening.

*

“Congratulations,” a couple she didn’t recognize said, seeming to be sincere in their well wishes. Siobhan was exhausted by all the fake congratulatory greetings that night. People had wished them many years of happiness while scrutinizing Siobhan as if she were an insect they’d never seen before. Down their noses, more times than she could count, women had informed her how fortunate she was.

The unasked question swirled in the air around her like a thick fog. “Why you?”

She hurried to a balcony for fresh air and hoping that from there she could catch a glimpse of Miles. Sometime earlier, they’d been pulled in opposite directions by guests, and she’d not spoken to him in at least an hour.

“How are you faring?” It was Miles’ mother, the duchess, who’d walked out to speak to her. “I can understand these things can be overwhelming.”

Siobhan nodded. “I want to remember my wedding day as a time of happy moments, surrounded by family and close friends. This is so much more.” She left the sentence at that, not wishing to offend Miles’ mother. “I appreciate all you’ve done to make this… day such a success.”

The duchess’ lips curved. “You are definitely a good match for my son. He is perturbed that there are so many people here. I explained to him just as I am informing you—with our status in society, we must keep a tight rein. My husband and son are of another race than most of society and we must behave and keep a strict life that is above reproach. Although I do not consider our hold on things to be tenuous, I do think it is imperative we do things to appease others, despite our own inner desires.”

What the woman said made sense. Still, Siobhan did not find it fair. As it was obvious her new mother-in-law lived by the just-spoken rules, Siobhan wasn’t sure she would ever aspire to keep to such a strict way of life. Whether one lived perfectly or not, if the fickle people of society wished it so, all could be dashed in but a moment.

They re-entered the room and she scanned it from one side to the other. As they walked to be greeted by yet another group of strangers, Siobhan could still not find Miles. Finally, she was able to tear herself away and she walked to where her mother and father were.

“They make a stunning couple, do not you think?” Her mother asked, watching Amelia and Charles dance. “Do you not agree, dear?”

She followed her mother’s line of sight to a flushed Amelia smiling brightly at her partner as they whirled in circles around the dance floor. “Yes, they are lovely. But, Mother, I cannot seem to find Miles. Where is my husband?”

*

In the library, Miles had finally found a bit of privacy. A light throb behind his eyes warned of things to come. “Not tonight,” he murmured, pressing two fingers on each side of his head. He’d managed to make it through social events before while suffering from his headaches. Usually he’d been able to make excuses for an early departure before rushing to his bedchamber where he’d lock himself in for days.

Things were different now. He was married and his wife expected a wedding night. As much as he imagined being with her and making the beauty his, it was hard to fathom making love while suffering the blinding pain.

“There he is.” Evan, followed by Grant and Henry walked in. “The groom.”

Miles’ lips curved at their expressions of disbelief. “Surely, you believe me now.” He motioned to chairs. “Please sit, I will pour.”

Welcoming the distraction, he poured his friends brandy recently imported from one of his family’s properties, not taking any for himself as he’d found it sometimes exacerbated the ill-effects of his affliction.

His friends were aware he suffered from the horrible headaches as they’d spent time together in boarding school and later often spent summers together at the Johnstone country house.

Evan studied him. “You do not feel well?”

There was no use in denying it. “I do not. I have no idea how I will make it through the night. I am afraid my bride may be disappointed in there not being a wedding night on the actual wedding night.” Miles gave up all pretense and sunk into a chair. Closing his eyes gave some respite and he massaged his temples.

“You should tell her,” Henry said. “It is best she know.”

Without opening his eyes, he leaned back into the chair. “That she’s married a sick man? I prefer to wait. But if she asks, I will use the excuse of drinking too much.”

This time Grant spoke. “If it only lasts a day, you can use that excuse. However, the headaches usually last longer. I am sure the excitement and stress of the wedding brought it on.”