Duel of Hearts by Anita Mills

Author:Anita Mills
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION/Romance/Regency
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2013-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

18

With the bride’s father’s illness as an excuse, the wedding was a very private, albeit elegant affair. The dowager duchess, having ascertained that the Coles were not, after all, so terribly vulgar, deigned to lend her presence and that of Mrs. Buckhaven, as did lords Renfield and Rivington.

Owing to the grayness of a rainy day, the gaslights glowed invitingly in the green saloon as the party assembled. Leah, truly lovely in a simple dress of rose-colored raw silk, took her place beside Lyndon. As she walked, the silk rustled against the stiffened taffeta petticoat whose lace edging peeped fashionably from beneath the gown’s hem. The single strand of perfectly matched pearls nestled in the hollow of her throat, while another strand had been woven into curls spilling from a knot at the crown of her head.

The vicar, summoned from Old St. Margaret’s, cleared his throat and began with the ancient words, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here . . .”

Leah stole a sidelong glance at the viscount, catching his somber profile and thinking, despite her misgivings, that he was certainly the handsomest man she’d ever seen. If only . . .

She was brought abruptly back to the present as her father placed her hand in Lyndon’s and she heard the clergyman addressing him, charging him with the responsibilities of marriage, asking his response. Her eyes widened a fraction as his warm, almost frighteningly strong fingers tightened on hers and he answered clearly that he would. And she felt his body tense beside hers when the vicar turned to her, charging and asking the same. She hesitated momentarily, her gaze traveling to where her father sat in his best coat and breeches next to the small, deceptively frail duchess.

“I will.”

It was as though she could feel Lyndon’s silent sigh of relief. Turning again to him, the vicar took him through the age-old vows that bound husband and wife together until eternity, and Leah listened almost dispassionately as Tony repeated, “I, Anthony Edward Charles Robert Barsett, take thee, Leah Frances Cole . . .”

This, then, was it—she was no longer a daughter in her father’s house, but rather a wife, mistress of her own establishment, responsible for the duties that went with her new and elevated status. Well, not for all of them, she reminded herself to bolster her lagging courage. Stealing another quick glance at Barsett’s face, she wondered what was going through his mind. He too was committed forever now—if he should find another, if he should come to love someone else, he was no longer free . . .

“Repeat after me, please.” With a start, she realized they waited for her now. Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded and followed his words, “I, Leah Frances Cole, take thee, Anthony Charles . . . that is . . .” Flustered for a moment, she hesitated and began again in a stronger voice, “I, Leah Frances Cole, take thee, Anthony Edward Charles Robert Barsett, to be my husband, to . .

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