Page 51 of A Wife for the Beast (Scandals and Second Chances #6)
His voice, when he spoke his vows, was flat. As though he were reading from a ledger.
“I, Phineas Renwick, take thee, Vera Huxford, to be my wedded wife,” he said, the words falling with ceremonial detachment. “To have and to hold, from this day forward... for better, for worse...”
She looked at him then, truly looked, for the first time that morning. His eyes did not meet hers, but there was a tightness at the corners, a rigidity to his jaw.
When her turn came, her voice wavered only slightly. “I, Vera Huxford, take thee, Phineas Renwick, to be my wedded husband...”
Their hands brushed again as the other ring passed between them. Another tremor.
They were required, briefly, to look at one another—by tradition if not instruction. And so, she did. She met the storm-grey of his gaze, and saw nothing. Or perhaps too much. A wall, not built of disdain but of habit, of hurt layered upon hurt.
She looked away only when the vicar continued, the sound of his voice echoing off the stone, hollow and resonating with a sense of foreboding.
The vicar declared them man and wife with unseemly haste, clearly eager to be free of the tension in the room. The moment passed without a smile, without a murmur of joy — only silence, and the strange, hollow sensation that she would forever be left wanting.
***
The wedding breakfast followed in the formal dining room.
Vera sat beside Phineas, though they barely spoke a word to each other for the entire meal.
She could feel the weight of his presence, solid and unyielding.
Every movement he made was careful, calculated—as though restraining something volatile within.
Walter made polite conversation, speaking of the estate’s livestock, the spring planting, and the condition of the roadways.
Imogen, seated across from him, replied with gentle questions and subdued warmth.
Her usual sharp wit was softened, particularly given the rather bland subject matter that seemed highly inappropriate for a wedding, and her eyes lingered on Walter with more interest than Vera expected.
Imogen was one of the kindest people Vera knew, but she was not one to shy away from expressing her true feelings.
When Walter began talking about the roadways, Vera fully expected to see a flash of Imogen’s usually forthright and spirited nature.
A sarcastic remark, or an eye roll at the very least, but she seemed enamoured rather than irritated.
It was an odd thing to notice, really—especially on her wedding day when no such warmth passed between herself and the man beside her. Still, it was oddly comforting to see that someone in this room might yet be capable of forming attachments.
Nathaniel raised his glass. “To the bride and groom. May their union be as fruitful as it is... unexpected.”
The servants shifted subtly, and there was a noticeable pause in the rhythm of the meal.
Vera lifted her glass in response, but said nothing. Phineas offered a nod.
“It is no small matter,” Nathaniel continued, smiling blandly, “to secure such a match. Especially one with the promise of... legacy.”
Legacy? He means an heir. Nobody had mentioned anything about an heir. This was supposed to be a marriage of convenience only.
She caught the flash in Phineas’s eyes, but it was quickly concealed while she struggled to remain calm and composed. Vera took a sip of wine in an effort to stave off the overwhelming wave of emotion that threatened to engulf her. Agatha spoke next.
“It’s a great deal of pressure, of course. A new bride entering a household with so much... history.”
Vera turned her head slowly, the words rising to her tongue before she could stop them. “The past, I believe, is already beyond our reach. I would rather concern myself with what lies ahead.”
Agatha blinked, her smile tightening. “We shall see, my dear. We shall see.”
The moment passed, but Vera felt the slight prickle of heat at her collarbone. She had not intended to speak so boldly, not today. Perhaps she had misstepped.
It was foolish to invite further scrutiny so early.
If there was to be peace in this house, she would need to watch her words more carefully.
Already, she was uncertain what offence she had caused Agatha to provoke such unbridled animosity.
The woman seemed to be doing her level best to make her feel wholly unwelcome on her own wedding day.
Still, it was up to her to pave the way for a more civil and harmonious union with her new husband’s family members.
It was unlike Vera to be so easily manipulated, but there had been altogether too many surprises so far today, and she had not been able to hold her tongue.
It had been a poor beginning, and one she must strive to repair.
Vera’s gaze drifted to Phineas. He was watching her—not directly, but from beneath lowered lashes. There was something in his expression. Not approval. Not warmth.
Resignation. And… maybe something darker.
Have I displeased him? But maybe she had misread his expression, and that wasn’t it.
He looks so alone. Even surrounded by the people who love him and want the best for him.
In solitude, at least, we are matched.
She lowered her eyes to her plate and lifted her fork with steady hands, but her thoughts swirled.
She had married a stranger. But she had not yet given up hope of discovering the man beneath the mask.