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CHAPTER 6

Catherine

The day after I learned Papa had accepted St. Erth’s proposal, I woke up with butterflies in my stomach.

How was I going to get out of this? Perhaps I could plead illness or go for a visit to some distant relation’s home?

I ran the plans around in my head when I heard a sharp knock on the door.

It was my mother holding a box.

“Open this,” she said, her face wreathed in smiles. “It’s your wedding gown. You’re getting married today.”

And my mother, who had very little interest in me beyond my hair and clothes, waited in my room until my maid Mary had put on the dress and done my hair! The dress was beautifully cut, with a high lace collar, and fit me perfectly.

How had he gotten a wedding dress made so quickly?

Then she propelled me down the stairs and left me in a hallway.

“I don’t—I don’t want to get married!” I cried helplessly, but when I saw Papa appear, I knew I was going to be forcibly taken to the church.

My fears began to spiral as Papa went to arrange for the carriage. It was all happening way too fast! I thought I had more time to prepare how to escape.

Special licenses were very expensive!

Why was St. Erth in such a hurry?

“How are you doing, angel?” Cook asked, patting my cheek affectionately. My parents had never seemed to take much of an interest in me, and my happiest memories as a child were helping Cook bake or curled up in a corner of the kitchen reading.

“I’m scared,” I whispered. “I don’t want to get married to him.”

“Now, darling, don’t be too afraid of your wedding night!” she said affectionately.

Wedding night! I hadn’t even considered that!

“Gentlemen surely love that wet hole between our legs,” Cook went on confidentially. “I expect that’s the same whether the man is a Viscount or,” and here she paused, raising her voice angrily, “the second footman.”

I tried to absorb the idea that the man who had ruined one of my best skirts would now be allowed to do whatever he wanted in that soft wet place between my thighs.

Then Papa was at my arm and propelling me into the carriage and across London to the church where St. Erth had said to meet him.

As we pulled up, the Viscount was standing in front of the church in a soft dove-gray jacket with dove-gray breeches and Mechelin lace on his wrists.

“You will be accorded the luckiest girl in England,” Mama breathed beside me, but I only look at St. Erth with fear and uncertainty.

It was simply unnatural for a man this handsome to want to marry a woman like me.

He stepped up to help me down from the carriage, and I gathered up my courage to hiss in an undertone at him.

“I am being forced to do this!”

I’m not sure what I had expected, but he only shrugged, one hard hand on my elbow propelling me into the church.

“Surely you don’t want to marry an unwilling wife?” I asked in some amazement.

“It’s a matter of complete indifference to me,” he said, looking down at me. “Willing or unwilling, you marry me today.”

My heart pounded in my chest, the blood all rushing to my ears.