Lady Eleanor Mary Cantwell, daughter of the Marquess of Salford, is a proper young lady. With her golden complexion, raven-black hair, and manners befitting a princess, Lady Eleanor has always been deemed a belle. There is just one problem.
Lady Ele...
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
Eleanor did not know how long she sat there, staring straight ahead. There was a roaring in her ears and she was dimly aware of Nathan's pained face staring back at her.
We were never married.
Of course, that was not true. At least, not in the literal sense. They were married – heavens, she had been at the ceremony. She had been the bride! The priest had been there, so had her parents and various other guests. Unless the man who had stood by her and sworn to love and cherish her until death do them part had been his identical twin brother, Nathan and she were certainly married.
'What nonsense,' she remarked with false bravado. Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears even though rational thought convinced her otherwise. 'Of course, we are married. Unless I married another Nathan Huntington a couple months back.'
Nathan blew out a long breath before reply. 'It was me. And while the ceremony was very real, it was not legal.'
'Not legal?' she asked in a tiny whisper, failing to see how their marriage was not legal. They had obtained a license; they had wed at the local parish by the local clergyman. The banns were not read as it had been a hasty wedding but everything else had been very much legal to her knowledge. Bloody hell, their names were on the marriage registry as well!
'When I went to procure the special license, I was denied,' Nathan continued. 'The archbishop had not deemed it necessary and was also quite prejudiced.'
'But I saw it!' she screamed in aguish. The more Nathan talked, the more she wished she wouldn't. They couldn't not be married...they just couldn't.
'You saw a forgery,' he replied tightly before looking away from her. 'We would have had to wait months if we married via standard license; months I did not have. So, I had it forged.'
'But, how could we have gotten married, then?' she asked. The tears that she had managed to hold in started to flow freely again. 'How did no one notice?'
'It was a very good forgery. Only weeks later did they question the validity; after we'd left for India and the news of our marriage had circulated amongst the ton. The archbishop, when he heard, questioned the legality, especially when he had denied the special license.'
'That was why you wanted to leave so soon. Why you accelerated your plans,' she whispered and hung her head, her gaze coming to rest on her thighs. There was a smear of blood there although she didn't know whose or how it had gotten there. She did not think it was hers – she did not hurt anywhere, at least not physically. But her heart, oh, her heart! It hurt so much and she did not think it would stop anytime soon.
How could he have done this? No – it was not the fact that he had done it. Everyone was motivated by different things and he had been desperate. She understood desperation. But the fact that he hadn't told her, after how close they had gotten, after all they had been through – her gut wrenched and it was like she was being suffocated all over again. Only, this time, it was a different kind of suffocation.
