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Lord Carew because he was a mild-mannered, kindly gentleman. Sometimes he reminded her of no!
He did not. He walked with a limp and had even been thoughtful enough to ask her if it would embarrass
her. She had assured him it would not. It rather fascinated her to observe that the marchioness, who was
many times more beautiful than he was handsome, nevertheless seemed to worship the ground he trod
on. ButHelenahad never denied the existence of romantic and marital love only of it as a possibility in
her own life.
Her bridegroom was dressed very elegantly and fashionably in a dark blue, form-fitting tailed coat, buff
pantaloons, white linen, and highly polished Hessians. She looked at him dispassionately as she walked
toward him along the aisle of the small old church, oblivious to the guests, who turned their heads to
watch her approach, and oblivious to either the marquess's limp or the steadying hand he had laid over
her own on his arm. Edgar Downes looked solid and handsome and very much in command of his own
life. He looked magnificent.
She experienced a growingly familiar feeling as she stood beside him and the marquess gave her hand
into his. The feeling of being small and frail and helpless and safe and secure. All illusions. His eyes, she
saw when she looked up, were steady on hers. She did not want to gaze back, but having once looked,
she had no choice. She would not lower her eyes and play the part of the demure bride. She half smiled
at him, hiding her fear behind her customary mask.
Fear? Yes, she admitted, turning the mockery inward, too. Fear.
She listened to him promise her the moon and the stars in a firm voice that must have carried to the back
pew of the church. She heard herself, almost as if she listened to someone else, promise him her soul.
She watched the shiny gold ring, bright symbol of ownership, come to rest on her finger. She heard the
vicar declaring that they were man and wife. She lifted her face to her new husband, feeling a wave of the
nausea that had been disappearing over the past week.
He looked into her eyes and then at her lips, which she had drawn into a smile again. And then he took
her completely by surprise. He clasped both her hands in his, bowed over them, and raised them one at a
time to his lips.
She could have howled with fury. Tears sprang to her eyes and she bit hard on her upper lip. With her
eyes and her lips she might have mocked his kiss on the mouth. She might have reminded him silently of
his promise never to touch her without her permission. She might have put him subtly in the wrong. His
kiss on her hands was startling in the illusion it gave of reverence and tenderness. She had to fight a
painful ache in her throat to keep the humiliating tears from spilling over. But he must have seen them
swimming in her eyes he looked into them as soon as he raised his head. How she hated him.
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He was her husband. And already he was establishing mastery.
* * *
Before suspecting her pregnancy, he had not once thought of marrying her. He had been horrified by his
suspicions and even more so by their confirmation. He had felt that he was being forced into something
very much against his will. He had not wanted to marry her.
And yet once it had become fact, once he had persuaded her to accept him, once he had acquired the
special license, once the wedding preparations had been set in motion, he had felt a curious elation, a
strange sense of rightness. He found it hard to believe that the obvious had been staring him in the face
ever since his arrival inLondonand he had not opened up his eyes and seen.
She was the very woman for him.
She was a woman of character and experience, someone he would find an interesting and a stimulating
companion. He knew that he had a strong tendency to dominate other people, to take charge, to insist on
doing things the way he knew they must be done. It was a tendency that worked to his advantage in his
professional life. It was a tendency that might well be disastrous in his marriage. He would make a timid
mouse out of a young, inexperienced girl Miss Grainger, for example within a month of wedding her.
He did not want a timid mouse. He wanted a companion.
Even one who had sworn that she would never allow him to touch her. Even one who had promised to
lead him a merry dance. Even one who rarely looked at him without that mockery in her eyes and on her
lips.
He had always intended to make a marriage with whomever he ended up wedding. He intended to make
a marriage with Helena Stapleton. A real marriage. The challenge of overcoming such hostility was
strangely exhilarating. And he would overcome it.
The woman herself was exciting, of course. She was extremely beautiful, the sort of woman who was
probably lovelier now in her maturity than she had been as a young girl. Or perhaps it was just that he
was a mature man who saw more beauty in a woman of his own age than in someone who was little
more than a child.
* * *
By the time his wedding day arrived, Edgar had admitted to himself that he was in love with his bride. He
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