“Is the priest ready?” Calliope whispered, her gaze flicking nervously to the church doors. Lady Helena Darby, her maid of honor, nodded with unguarded enthusiasm.
“Any moment,” she said brightly. “They’ll let us know when it’s time.”
Beyond the tall church tower with its large bronze bell, the sun was slowly sinking into a pink and orange sky. Soon night would fall, and when it did Calliope would emerge through those doors not as an orphan or a wallflower or a spinster, titles that had followed her through her entire life, but as a wife.
A wife.
She could hardly believe it, and a tremulous smile curved her lips as she waited for them to be called inside the church. A gust of wind stirred, catching on the train of her gown and pulling at the plain blue shawl she had wrapped around her shoulders. She trembled, and Helena noted the tiny, involuntary motion with an arched russet brow.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
“Yes,” Calliope admitted, for she was. Nervous and excited and happy and afraid. The emotions were all jumbled up inside of her, each one fighting for dominance as her heart began to race and her palms began to perspire inside of her white satin gloves.
“That’s normal, I suppose. But there’s really nothing to be nervous about. We’re still several hours before the deadline.” Helena patted her hand. “It’s all worked out splendidly, hasn’t it? You and him. Not that I ever doubted it would.”
“Splendidly,” Calliope echoed.
But if that were completely true, why was she suddenly filled with the urge to turn on her heel and bolt in the opposite direction?
Pre-wedding jitters, she told herself as one of the doors slowly creaked open and a servant whom she recognized as her future husband’s valet gestured them inside. It’s just pre-wedding jitters.
“Calliope,” her maid of honor hissed in her ear.
“What?”
“It’s time to go inside now.” Helena looked at her oddly, and too late Calliope realized she’d been standing and staring at the church for the better part of a minute.
“Of course. I was just…gathering my thoughts.”
“I know I just said we have hours, but it’s really best not to push things. Here, let me take your shawl.” Removing the garment, Helena passed it off to one of the footmen standing by the carriage that would ferry the newly wedded couple off to their country estate and then fixed Calliope with an encouraging smile. “Are you ready, darling?”
“I’m ready.” And she was. Because she did love the man waiting for her inside the church.
Of that, if nothing else, she was absolutely certain.
Lifting her chin, she started to put on foot in front of the other and before she knew it she was inside the church and poised in front of the man who was about to be her husband. Her heart warmed at the sight of him, and when he reached out to take her hand at the direction of the priest all of her doubts faded away.
Then his eyes met hers, and her stomach knotted.
“Wait,” she gasped just as the priest cleared his throat and prepared to begin the ceremony.
Her groom frowned. “Calliope, what is the–”
“I’m sorry. I – I can’t do this. I’m sorry!” she cried, yanking her hand free. Her gaze darted wildly from side to side, she began to back down the aisle, nearly tripped on the hem of her gown, and then spun around.
“Calliope, wait. Calliope, stop!”
Closing her ears to his shouted commands, she raced past a shocked Helena and burst out of the church as if bloodthirsty hounds were nipping at her heels. She could hear the floor rumbling as her husband-to-be gave chase. He was considerably larger than her. Faster, too. With nowhere else to run she jumped into the waiting carriage and slammed the door shut behind her, then quickly turned the lock.
“Go!” she yelled at the driver, who hastily picked up the reins and slapped them on the horse’s rump. With a snort, the gelding lunged forward and the carriage clattered down the cobblestone street, leaving her spurned fiancé standing in its wake…
Hell burning in his eyes.
Chapter One
Eighteen Days Ago
When Miss Calliope Haversham was six years of age she came to live with her uncle, the Marquess of Shillington. He was a married man with one child, and he welcomed his orphaned niece into his family with the nonchalance of a duck not bothering to notice when another duckling started following along.
Lady Shillington and her daughter were considerably less keen to have a fourth duckling in their