Sheridan halted, and his stomach began to churn. “Yes.”
“It’s larger than I expected for such a small village,” Sir Noah said. “Definitely suitable enough for a duke’s wedding.”
Even as panic hit Sheridan, he nodded. He and Helene had never progressed this far. After weeks of pain and struggle, she’d died of consumption on what would have been their wedding day. Leaving him with a broken heart that had never fully mended.
It was yet another significant moment in his life he hadn’t yet shared with Vanessa. But he would. Eventually.
The four of them entered the church and he froze. He hadn’t seen the women before they left. Now he was faced with the awe-inspiring sight of Vanessa resplendent in her wedding clothes. She stood at the front talking to his mother and stealing the very breath from his throat while he took her in.
Good God in heaven, how lovely she was. Sometimes in the midst of everything that had happened, he forgot that.
But today, she was spectacular. Her gown was of a blue so pale it looked like white, except when the candles were lit, and the shimmer showed it to be blue silk. Only then did he notice the lace dripping from her long sleeves, and the train of her gown lying twisted behind her, waiting for someone to straighten it.
She and his mother seemed to be having a very intense conversation. He searched the sanctuary for Lady Eustace, then relaxed when he spotted the woman chatting with Gwyn on the opposite end of the church. His female relations had all been instructed to keep the two mothers apart at any cost. He did not want a repeat of what had happened a week ago between the two women.
When he hurried to the front of the church, he saw his mother putting a string of pearls around Vanessa’s neck. He reached them within moments. “Mother, are those—”
“The Armitage pearls, yes.” She gazed fondly at Vanessa. “I know your father would have wanted your bride to have them.”
Vanessa glanced at him, and a blush spread over her cheeks.
It ignited his desire anew. He was ready to have the wedding and then go straight to the wedding night, although no one would allow that. There would be toasts to them both and wedding cake. God only knew what else the women had put together in such a short time.
He supposed that was a good thing. Though he could skip all of it, Vanessa deserved a decent wedding. She wouldn’t even be marrying him at all if he hadn’t practically devoured her in a public garden. Thank God that once he got Vanessa in their bedchamber, he’d be able to assuage his obsessive need for her at last. Later he could deal with the consequences of letting her too close to seeing inside him. But for tonight, he meant to enjoy every single damned minute of her in his bed.
Vanessa’s hand shook as she signed the church register. To her surprise, Sheridan laid his hand over hers and bent his head to murmur, “It will be all right. I swear I will make it so.”
She sincerely hoped he meant that. Because everything was done now. Final. Fait accompli. The service had only taken half an hour, yet that didn’t make it any less permanent. She’d gained what she wanted, although not in the way she wanted it. That was the part that stuck in her craw. What if he grew to resent her for forcing his hand?
Except that she hadn’t really. It wasn’t her fault they’d become carried away by their desires that night. Was it? In any case, his hand over hers felt right. And that was the most she could hope for at present.
They left the vicar’s office and returned to the sanctuary, which was now empty. Everyone else had gone outside.
Sheridan paused before they joined the guests. “Are you ready for this?”
“I’ve been to a village wedding before,” she said, smiling up at him. “I know how they work.”
“All right. Just so you’re prepared.”
They walked out the church doors hand in hand, and she realized that the entire village was outside, everyone jockeying for position so they could be the first to see the duke and his new bride emerge from the church.
The second she and Sheridan crossed the threshold, cheers erupted. As the two of them hurried down the path, they were showered with rice and seeds and petals of winter roses. The open carriage was waiting for them, festooned in ribbons and more winter roses.
Caught up in the enthusiasm of the onlookers, she didn’t even falter when Sheridan took her by surprise and kissed her before helping her up into the landau. Amidst universal cheers they were driven away, with the crowd following them for a good distance.
Despite being tied for life to Sheridan, she felt inexplicably free . . . from her mother, her fears, her past. This was the beginning of her life apart from her family. It would be her and Sheridan from now on, with any children they might make. The thought of it was exhilarating.
When they were alone except for their coachman, she caught Sheridan staring at the side of her head. “What are you looking at?” she asked. “Do I have odd ears or something?”
“I’m just now noticing that Mother also gave you the pearl earrings that go with the strand of pearls.”
She held up her arm. “And the bracelet and comb as well. The whole parure, I believe.”
“Ah, yes. I should at least have noticed the comb in your hair. Although, to be fair, it’s in the back, and I’ve mostly been looking at your front.”
Self-consciously she touched the earring he was eyeing. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. You’re my duchess now. You should have the family pearls. I only wish there were more jewelry to give you.”
She wouldn’t have believed he meant that if not for the hungry look in his eyes that surely resembled that which the wolf in the children’s story had given to Red Riding Hood. Too late she remembered that Sheridan’s surname was Wolfe. Oh, dear.
“Besides,” he went on in a husky voice that sent a thrill through her, “you wear those pearls well. Very well.”
Vanessa wasn’t sure if she should thank him for the compliment or run for the hills before her wolfish husband could devour her.
“Never have I wished more to be in a closed carriage,” he drawled.
“Oh?” she asked, determined to lighten the mood by teasing him. “Why, pray tell?”
“That should be obvious. I want—”
When her laugh interrupted him, he apparently realized she knew precisely why. And precisely what he wanted, too.
He bent his head to whisper, “Later, I want to see you wearing nothing but those pearls.”
So much for knowing what he wanted. She’d had no idea that Sheridan was so . . . so wicked. All thought of teasing him vanished, replaced by a vivid image of him looking her over while she wore nothing but the Armitage pearls. Her mouth went dry and her breath quickened. She began to feel a little wicked herself.
“I believe I now understand your wish for a closed carriage,” she murmured.
He groaned. “I fear this will be the longest bridal feast I’ve ever attended.”
Unfortunately, she feared the same thing.
Chapter Thirteen
Sheridan paced, waiting for Vanessa to open the door that separated their bedchambers. Her maid, Bridget, was, of course, preparing her for her wedding night, although it wasn’t technically night, since the sun was still slipping into the horizon. But given that the bridal feast only included their families, who were liable to stay up celebrating until the wee hours of the morning, he hadn’t had the patience to wait them out.