Jane’s stomach knotted and the bouquet slipped in her sweaty hands.
Gifford’s tone was paper dry as he said his part. “I, Gifford Dudley, hereby declare my devotion to you. I swear to love you, protect you, be faithful to you, and make you the happiest woman in the world. My love for you is as deep as the ocean and as bright as the sun. I will protect you from every danger. I am blind to every woman but you. Your happiness is paramount in my heart.”
From the first row of guests, Gifford’s mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and the girl fought a small fit of giggles. Edward was stoic faced, his blood-dotted handkerchief crumpled in his fingers.
Gifford took her damp hand and pushed a ring onto her finger. “I give myself to you.”
“I receive you.” It sounded more like a croak. “And I, Jane Grey, hereby declare my devotion to you. I swear to love you, parley with you, be faithful to you, and make you the happiest man in the world.”
The original version of the vow her mother had suggested had said “obey you” but that simply would not do. It was enough that Jane had agreed to keep the word love where she had tried to insert the phrase “feel some sort of emotion,” but with obey she could not bend. She would consult him regarding decisions. She didn’t have to listen to him after that. And she would be faithful. She might try to make him happy, unless he insisted on being unreasonable.
She continued: “My love for you makes the wind appear a mere breath, and the sea a mere drop. I will consult your wisdom. I am deaf to the call of temptation. Your happiness is my northern star.” She took his hand and shoved on the ring awkwardly, her bouquet still clutched in her fingers. “I give myself to you.” Never had she dreamed of uttering such words.
“I receive you.” He, at least, looked equally miserable.
The priest beamed. “Is there anyone who would like to contest this match?”
Please please please. Jane risked a glance at Edward, who had not moved at all. There would be no last-minute rescue. No awful coincidence. Nothing to keep this from going any further.
“Then,” declared the priest, “I name you husband and wife. You may kiss.”
Jane squeezed her eyes shut and waited. Entire seconds fell by, and then a touch warmed her chin and lifted her face, which she’d turned down to her shoes. The kiss came quickly. It wasn’t anything more than a touch of his lips to hers, so light it might not have happened at all. But the guests were cheering and when she and Gifford turned to face everyone, Edward’s eyes were shining, her mother wore a triumphant smile, and the girl with Gifford’s parents was kissing her doll.
“Now to survive the feast.” Gifford’s words were low, perhaps not even for her, but they were the first real words he’d spoken since they’d met.
“Perhaps there will be a buxom serving girl to help you pass the time,” she snapped without thinking.
Gifford met her eyes coldly. “Perhaps there will be a book for you to hide your face in.”
They moved down the aisle together, to lead the way to the wedding feast, and the last shred of hope in her shriveled and died. He was as awful as she’d expected, and now she would be spending the rest of her life with him.
And suddenly the rest of her life, stretched out before her with the marriage bed and children and seeing each other only when was absolutely necessary, seemed like an exceedingly long time.
SIX
Gifford
Maybe he had been a bit rude.
But to be fair, he’d had his reasons. One reason. Which was: he hadn’t been prepared for the fairness of the maiden who had met him at the altar.
Until the ceremony, he had, in jest, been vocal about the possibility that Jane was hiding behind books because she was trying to conceal the hideousness of her face. But deep down he’d hoped it was true. Because that would’ve made it easier to tell her the truth about his horse curse. If she had been less attractive, there might’ve been the chance that a half horse/half man was the best she could do. But Jane Grey could certainly do better than Gifford.
Not that she was a stunning creature. She did have that fire-red hair, after all. But G had to admit that not one in