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Chapter 32
Olivia stepped out of the carriage, handing her bouquet of white roses to Emma. She gazed up at the small church. Today was her wedding day. It did not seem real at all. She felt like she was in the midst of a dream; as if some other girl was wearing this silver silk gown and was about to walk down the aisle towards her future husband and take the vows to love, honour and obey forever.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. It had all happened so quickly. Only a month. She had barely seen Alexander in that time—quick, rushed visits in between dress fittings and other appointments. But, to her surprise, he had tried to curb his usual teasing and treat her respectfully. He made no move to touch her or kiss her. They never talked about their upcoming marriage nor their feelings upon the subject. It was as if they were polite strangers.
The closest he had come to talking about what was ahead of them was to reassure her one day he would try his best to be a good husband to her. But before she could reply they had been interrupted. They had never come back to the subject. She had not had the opportunity to question him as to how he was proposing to do that, given he did not love her. She probably would not have had the nerve, anyway.
“Olivia?” Emma’s voice penetrated her consciousness. “Everyone is waiting in the church.”
Olivia took a deep breath, turning to her friend. Emma knew the reservations she had about this marriage and had tried to reassure her. Olivia had in turn pretended to be reassured. But she could see the concern in her friend’s face now. Emma thought she might turn and bolt. Something which she had idly considered a few times but would never do. How could she disappoint her grandfather and mother?
“Yes,” said Olivia, in a breathless voice. “I am ready. Hand me my bouquet, Emma, and let us proceed.”
Her grandfather was waiting at the door to walk her into the church. He was giving her away, of course, given he was the closest thing to a father she had. His blue eyes were shining with joy and admiration as he gazed upon her.
“Oh, my dearest girl,” he said, his voice almost breaking with emotion. “How beautiful you are. A vision of beauty. If only your dear father and brother could be here today to witness it.”
Olivia’s heart twisted. If her father and brother had lived, she would not be standing here now. For they would be the heirs to the Weaver earldom and none of them would ever have heard of Captain Alexander Fletcher. He would have remained an obscure distant relative. Her grandfather would never have sought him.
“Thank you, Grandpapa,” she whispered, taking his arm.
He patted it reassuringly. They stepped into the church. To see the small church filled with people there to witness her marriage. But the bridegroom was nowhere to be seen at all. Olivia’s heart hit the ground.
***
Alexander stood by the side of the street, cursing beneath his breath. A wheel had come off the carriage and the whole contraption had hurtled towards a tree on the side of the road. Luckily, no one had been hurt, but he was now officially very late for his own wedding. It was taking them a long time to fix it.
“Can you hurry?” he barked, his frustration getting the better of them. “It is my wedding day!”
The carriage driver shrugged his shoulders, looking perplexed. “I cannot find the bolt, Captain,” he said, scratching his head. “It must have rolled off. I have sent one of the footmen to find me a new one, but I cannot tell how long he will be.”
Alexander cursed again. This time he did not care who heard.
“How far away is the church?” His voice was filled with impatience.
“Just half a mile, Captain,” replied the man.
“Then I shall take one of the horses and ride there,” he said curtly.
It did not take long to get a horse ready. There was no saddle but that did not worry him—he had ridden bareback more than once. He spurred on the horse, hurtling down the street, the wind whipping his hair behind him. He lost his hat, but he was far past caring about that now.
All he could think about was the fact that Olivia, and probably the entire congregation, would think he had cold feet and was not coming at all. He had no idea what the time was and whether she would be there yet, but it seemed likely she would be.
He cursed again. The whole thing had happened so quickly. One minute they had been rattling along at a normal pace, the next the whole carriage had lurched violently, tilting to the side. He had heard the driver swear, desperately pulling at the reins to try to control the vehicle, but it had veered off the road, hurtling towards a tree. Astonished, he had watched the carriage wheel careering in the other direction. It was a miracle no one had been hurt.
And now he was late for his own wedding. He instinctively knew that Olivia would immediately assume he had deserted her if he was not there. She would not even think that he might be delayed for some reason or other. And that was entirely his fault as well.
He had tried to be so careful with her this past month of their engagement, so scrupulously polite, that it was almost like they had lost what they once had. The fiery spark that had always pulsed so brightly between them had been dulled. It did not mean he did not want her as much as he always had—in fact, he was counting down the days when they could finally lie together, and he could take her—but it was as if they had become strangers.
He sighed irritably, leaning over the horse, spurring it on harder. They were not communicating well, and that had to stop. If she was still there when he got to this infernal church and he could get her to the altar, he resolved he would try harder to bridge the gap between them. She was going to be his wife. It was hard enough it had all occurred the way it had. He needed to try harder.
He leant over the horse, spurring it on, almost colliding with a milk cart. Patience, he told himself, even as frustration nipped at his heels like a small terrier dog. He needed to get to the church in one piece. He needed to get to her and show her he had always been intending to do this. That his courage had not deserted him, and it was all circumstances beyond his control. He hoped she would listen to him. But knowing Olivia, he was not confident at all.
***
Olivia was just about to turn and walk back to the carriage when Alexander finally came rushing into the church. He was panting, he did not have a hat, and his hair was dishevelled. His blue eyes looked panicked.
“My dear boy,” said her grandfather, taking in his rumpled appearance. “What has happened?”
