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If he were to know that she loved him then he could use that, whether or not he loved her in return. Exile her to the country, knowing that she would do as he wished in order to make him happy. The same way her mother had always followed her father’s edicts. And she couldn’t live with that, she couldn’t bear the idea of being so ill-used. She wouldn’t allow herself to be.
If only she could be certain that he loved her the way she loved him, life would be wonderful.
“Stop fidgeting,” her mother hissed under her breath.
Eleanor sighed. “I can’t help it,” she whispered back. “When does this start?”
“The ceremony should have started already, but that’s to be expected,” her mother hissed back. “There are guests still seating themselves in the rear. Now stop fidgeting and be silent.”
Rolling her eyes, Eleanor leaned back against the pew. Nervous movement was a family trait, one that she shared with her father but she noticed that her mother wasn’t scolding him, even though he was twisting around in his seat as if taking note of who had dared arrived late to his son and heir’s wedding.
“Sit up straight!” hissed her mother. The whisper strangled in her throat as she coughed delicately into her hand, covering it.
Stifling a retort, Eleanor straightened her spine. She’d always thought that being a married woman would mean that her parents would no longer try to mold her into the perfect Society lady. Obviously they hadn’t thought the same.
*********
“Stop fidgeting,” Edwin whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Hugh. Behind him he could hear Wesley chuckle. Fortunately everyone else was far away enough that they couldn’t hear anything the men said, although he was sure that they could all see Hugh had begun shifting impatiently back and forth on his feet.
“Sod off,” Hugh muttered back. “You have no idea what this is like, you didn’t have to wait like this for Nell.”
No he hadn't. Edwin hadn't had to wait at all, not for a courtship nor for a long wedding service. His beautiful lady wife was easy to find, sitting a mere fifteen feet from his position besides Hugh. Dressed in one of her new gowns from Paris, the soft peach and rose accentuating the peaches and cream of her skin and the pink of her lips, she looked much sweeter and more innocent than he knew her to be.
In fact, his wife was on the verge of sending him straight into madness.
Their honeymoon had been blissful, he thought that they'd managed to come to an accord within their relationship during their time away. She had been the sweet yet spirited, joyful, passionate and wonderfully creative young woman that he'd known her to be. But it was as if she'd left that woman behind on the Continent. Since their return to London, Eleanor had blown hot and cold to the point where Edwin never knew what he would be facing in the morning.
The only place she was consistently pleasantly hot was in his bed.
No complaints about that.
But she was running him ragged outside of the bedroom. He had the most uncomfortable feeling that his every word, his every action, was being observed and judged by his wife, and mostly found wanting. At first he'd thought that perhaps she was still overwhelmed from her new position within the household, especially as she had finally taken up the reigns of responsibility that she had originally neglected before their honeymoon. Then he thought that perhaps the grandiosity and pomp of her brother's wedding was stirring her envy and possibly her resentment towards Edwin, as he knew that she had not been entirely happy with the simple, private ceremony in which they'd been married.
He'd tried to be patient, although he'd taken her over his knee when she'd outright ignored his conversation. While he hadn't wanted to stir her resentment, if that was what she was feeling, that didn't mean that he would tolerate disrespect. Still, she hadn't seemed resentful at all afterwards, he thought smugly. In fact she hadn't even tried to protest when he'd stripped the rest of her clothes off and taken her right there, immediately afterwards. It was amazing the effect she had on him, whether her skin was creamy or a bright, hot red…
"Stop that," Hugh whispered, nudging him in the side with his elbow.
"Stop what?"
"You’re looking at my sister like you’re about to devour her. Everyone can see you."
Edwin realized that Eleanor was staring back at him, her eyes wide as if she was able to see exactly what he was thinking about. Other guests in the crowd were eyeing him as well and he realized that his thoughts must have been practically painted on his face. Most of the men looked amused, most of the women disapproving, and more than one rather envious.
"You don't have to stay for the reception if you'd like to take your wife home afterwards," Wesley whispered, nudging Edwin from the other side.
"Shh," said Edwin, turning his head to look back up to the end of the aisle after catching Lord Harrington's eye. Hugh and Eleanor's father managed to look both amused and disapproving at the same time.
A rustle went through the crowd as the doors at the back of the sanctuary began to open, the stir of excitement as they all turned to see the bride.
******
She was smiling so hard that her face felt broken. Just like her heart.
Wife. She was a wife. And not to the man she loved. Hungrily she stared across the room at him, only to feel a stab of guilt like lightening through her chest. Quickly she turned back to look at her husband, catching her mother’s eye on the way. She was Viscountess Petersham and she had to remember that. The hard look that her mother gave her only heightened the anxious butterflies in her stomach.
Not butterflies. Pigeons. Nasty dirty pigeons pecking and scratching and clawing at the inside of her belly.
She deserved to be pecked from the inside out. Looking up at her husband she was consumed with guilt. Hugh was a perfectly wonderful man; incredibly handsome, unfailingly kind, generous, and with a sunny disposition (her mother would have added titled and wealthy to the list of desirable traits). He had a bit of a rakish reputation, but he also had a reputation for being discreet and there had been no rumor of any woman within the past year. Certainly not since he'd begun courting her. London gossip was a nasty business and she knew that someone would have told her if there had been the slightest hint of impropriety on her groom’s part. Despite the fact that everyone knew this was an arranged match.
