Demon's Bride The Hellraisers - 2 by Zoe Archer
Chapter 1
The Honorable Anne Hartfield had married a stranger.
The thought drummed in her head all day, through the morning ceremony at Saint Georges and the recitation of vows.
I, Anne Elizabeth, take thee, Leopold, to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to Gods holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.
He had slipped a ring upon her finger, of rubies and diamonds that had been purchased the day beforeit was no family heirloom, no treasure passed from one generation to the next, but pristine from the jewelers workbench. It was beautiful, yet as Leopold Bailey had given her the ring, its red stones on the golden band reminded Anne of sunlight pierced by drops of blood.
With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
They were married. She was no longer her fathers responsibility, but everything of her keeping now relied upon her husband. The food she ate, the clothing covering her body. The bed in which she slept, which she would sometimes share with her husband when he so chose to exercise his rights and make use of her body.
The thought made her stomach pitch to her feet. This night would see her enter into the state of married women everywhere, leaving behind the solitude of virginity. She belonged to him now, his possession.
Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.
She watched him now, this stranger who was now her husband for the rest of her living days. Leopold Bailey. He stood with a group of guests, and though the breakfast at his Bloomsbury home was well attended, finding him in the glittering crowd proved itself an easy task.
Admiring your new prize? Lady Byton followed Annes gaze across the drawing room.
Heat spread through Annes cheeks, and her fathers cousin chuckled. Theres no shame in it, child, for hes worth admiration.
Then we share an opinion, Anne said. She almost checked herself, then remembered that she was now a married woman, and had the liberty of speaking with greater boldness. Unwed girls hadnt freedom of opinion, for they were to be at all times agreeable. As Mrs. Bailey, she could opine as she wished. Though she did not know if her husband would encourage such behavior. Perhaps he would be one of those stern men who wanted only silence and obedience from his wife.
She rather hoped not.
In my youth, said Lady Byton, we would have called such a man a strapper, and so he is. Mark me, child, youll have the devils own time in the bedchamber, but I warrant it will put more roses in your cheeks.
Lady Byton lived in the country.
Her cheeks already red, Anne studied her new husband. Her cousins assessment, coarse as it was, proved correct. The drawing room of his Bloomsbury house was filled with the wealthiest and most influential of London Society, men of extraordinary power, and men of extraordinary affluence. Yet no one commanded attention as Leopold did.
He was not much taller than any of the other men, yet the eye sought him out with unerring frequency. Normally, he eschewed a wig and wore his sandy hair back in a simple queuerather like a laborerbut today he marked the occasion by having his hair dressed and powdered.
Even in his wedding finery of gold velvet and cream satin, his lean, muscular build could not be disguised, nor the breadth of his shoulders or length of his legs. A few of the wedding breakfast guests were sportsmen, just as Annes own brothers were, but Leopold carried his physicality in a way that suggested use and purpose rather than idle recreation.
Easy to imagine that Leopold was, in fact, the son of a saddler. Not a gentleman.
Is his father here? Lady Byton scanned the chamber. With a son so handsome, surely the father is as well favored.
The elder Mr. Bailey died two years ago.
Lady Byton clicked her tongue. Such a disappointment.
I imagine the greater disappointment belonged
to Mr. Bailey.
And the elder Mr. Baileys wife?
She was likely disappointed by her husbands death, as well.
Lady Byton pursed her lips. As a woman happily widowed, I beg you to reconsider that notion.
Anne had witnessed many marriages amongst the ranks of the gentry. A select few could be called truly happy; even fewer might be considered love matches. Love had no commerce when it came to marriage. Only in the pages of sentimental novels did girls and young men of standing find love. For herself, she hoped only to earn her husbands respect and to give it in return. That she was married at all was something of a miracle.
A cloud of gillyflower perfume announced the approaching presence of Annes Aunt Louise before she even spoke a word. She enveloped Anne in a fragrant embrace, crying, Oh, my child, I wish you happy on this wondrous day.