Page 10 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

“That sounds awfully mercenary of you. What of love? Nothing but the deepest pull on my heartstrings will induce me to marry.”

Cassandra’s chest tightened. Was her sister right? Was she making a tremendous mistake—one that would haunt her for the rest of her life?

Something flickered inside her heart. Was it a hope—a dream that marrying for love was an option?

She squashed it. Such thoughts were not helpful. Her situation was too dire to allow romantic wishes to affect her judgement. If she changed her mind now, she would have nowhere to go. She would belong to no one. Besides, she had given her word.

“I’ve made my decision. Mr Hunt is a God-fearing man. He’ll look after me.”

“But why you? What kind of man offers marriage to a destitute gentlewoman of no particular merit?”

Cassandra brushed off her sister’s cruel words, but failed to prevent heat from surging into her cheeks. It was humiliating Julia thought so poorly of her, and it buoyed her spirits that Mr Hunt had asked her to marry him, even if it was for purposes of his own.

“It is immaterial. The point is, he’s chosen me, and I need to go now. Are you coming to my wedding or not?”

Julia sniffed. “I suppose.”

They walked in silence down St Mary Street. For everyone else, it was just another day. Women bustled about as they went to buy food. Well-dressed men strode past on the way to their offices. A gaggle of children sat playing games in front of a nearby house.

Outside the church, a man wearing a shabby green coat leaned against the wall of the graveyard, doing nothing at all. As she passed him, the stranger caught her gaze and bowed his head.

Oh dear. Was he looking for charity? He certainly looked as if he could do with a good meal. Had he been laid off? It was the quarter day, after all.

He wouldn’t be the first to seek her aid. As the rector’s daughter, it had been a regular occurrence. But she had no time to stop today. He would do better to go down to the Quay to search for work rather than loitering near the church for the possibility of a few coins.

With a deep breath, Cassandra dismissed the man from her mind and entered the church building, ready to grasp her future.

Her sister followed behind, disapproval oozing from her lagging steps.

Cassandra walked slowly down the aisle, allowing the familiarity of her surroundings to calm her agitated spirits. As church buildings went, it was not very large. Dark, too, as the sunlight struggled to find a way in through clusters of small, high windows.

It was always full to bursting on a Sunday, as the size of the congregation had long since outstripped its capacity, but today it stood starkly empty, apart from the three men waiting for her at the front of the church—the curate, Mr Hunt, and a man she recognised as one of his employees.

Mr Barnes was talking in hushed accents, as befitted the sanctity of the place, and the ceremony he was about to perform.

Cassandra paused, staring up at the pulpit, where her father had stood on so many occasions, a final desperate prayer on her lips—a plea for confirmation she was doing the right thing.

A ray of sunshine broke through, illuminating the pews and monuments that spoke of two centuries of worship. It might have been coincidence, but she took it as a sign from God. Peace settled in her heart, and with renewed confidence, she walked down the aisle to join the man who would shortly become her husband.

She might not love Mr Hunt in the way she had dreamed of, but she vowed she would love him, to the utmost of her ability. And she was grateful to him for rescuing her.

Was gratitude a good starting point for their relationship? She hoped so, because it was the best she could do.

Chapter 6

Jethro’s shoulders relaxed as Miss Vincent took her place beside him at the front of the church.

When the appointed time for the ceremony had arrived, and his bride had not, he had feared she’d changed her mind.

“Are you ready, Miss Vincent?” the curate asked, his voice laced with concern as he held Cassandra’s gaze.

Jethro bit back his irritation. The man was supposed to be marrying them, not making eyes at his bride or questioning her decision to wed. Was Mr Barnes hoping she would cry off?

Cassandra gave a decided nod. “Quite ready. Thank you.”

The service stirred Jethro’s emotions more than he cared to admit. It was humbling to listen to the lady at his side speak her responses without a tremor, as she promised to love, cherish and obey him—a man she barely knew.

As he slipped his ring onto his wife’s finger, the weight of the responsibility he was taking on threatened to overwhelm him. Could he love and cherish Cassandra as he had vowed to do? Yes. With God’s help, he would.