Page 13 of Raked Away in September

Olivia’s eyes widened. “How do you…?” She shook her head, obviously deciding she didn’t want to know. “Yes, Tamsin. There are infinite ways that people can find pleasure with each other. But I imagine that on your wedding night, the earl will not ask anything exotic of you. You will probably be on your back, and he will lie on top of you. But later, if you are willing, the two of you might get more adventurous. Hopefully, his vast experience will have made him a good lover.”

A shiver went up Tamsin’s spine at the thought of it. Of stripping herself bare before him, of letting him touch her wherever he wanted. She didn’t think she was ready for that. Not until she got to know him better. Not until she trusted him at least a little bit.

“Do you think he’ll be angry if I ask him to wait a while? I’d like to get to know him a little before we do… that.”

“Perhaps,” Olivia said slowly. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask. If he’s a decent man, then he’ll understand. However, I must warn you that most men want to exercise their rights on their wedding night. I would hate for your marriage to start on the wrong foot because he’s angry about being made to wait.”

Biting her lip, Tamsin stood, giving herself one last glance in the mirror. She would hate that, too, but perhaps it would be worth the risk. At least this way, she’d know from the start what sort of man she was married to.

Olivia stood, too, and pulled her into a fierce embrace. “If he’s cruel, let me know. I will do whatever I can to help you.”

Tamsin nodded, tears stinging her eyes. It was a nice offer, but they both knew that once she was married to the earl, there was little anyone could do to save her, even if she truly needed saving. “Thank you, Olivia. For everything. You’ve been so kind, and I’ll miss living here with you.”

“I’ll miss that, too.” Olivia brushed her own tears away. “Shall we head down then?”

“Yes,” Tamsin said, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “There’s no use putting it off any longer.”

The rain drummed a soft, rhythmic beat against the stained-glass windows of St. George’s in Hanover Square, turning the world outside into a blurred wash of gray. Tamsin was nearly certain that rain on her wedding day was a bad sign. Inside, the church was far too large for so small a party. Only a few friends and family members sat in the very front pews on Tamsin’s side, and Rowan’s side was completely empty.

As she stood at the back of the church, Tamsin wondered if she should be worried that no one had shown up for him. What sort of man had no one he could invite to his own wedding? Or was it simply that he didn’t care enough about the ceremony to do so?

She nervously ran her hands down the front of her gown. It was not a traditional wedding dress; there hadn’t been time to have one made for her. She wore a simple ball gown of heavy cream silk, with a high lace collar that brushed irritatingly against her jaw.

“You look beautiful, Tamsin,” Nicolas said, his voice unusually thick. He stood beside her, his shoulders stiff. “I know this is not the day you imagined for yourself. But under the circumstances, it truly is the best you could have done. Haversham is... I don’t like him, but I wouldn’t allow this if I thought he’d hurt you. You’ll be safe with him.”

Safe. It was a strange word to describe a marriage precipitated by a gossip column. But as she began the short walk down the aisle, Tamsin realized she wasn’t afraid of her new husband. She had a lot of doubts where Rowan was concerned, but she didn’t think he’d ever hurt her physically.

Rowan stood at the altar, dressed in a dark coat that made his shoulders seem impossibly broad, his dark hair swept back from his handsome face. When he turned to watch her approach, Tamsin felt a jolt of something she didn’t understand. His dark eyes were steady, and he looked at her with a quiet intensity that made the rest of the cavernous church fall away.

As Nicolas placed her hand in Rowan’s, the heat of her groom’s touch grounded her. His fingers closed over hers with a gentle, firm pressure, a silent promise of support. She could almost believe he cared for her.

The ceremony was a blur of ancient words that she couldn’t seem to track. She found herself watching Rowan’s profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark lashes shadowed his deep brown eyes. Dear Lord, he was so beautiful. He spoke his vows with quiet assurance, his voice echoing through the church. When he promised to protect and cherish her, it didn’t sound like a mere legal requirement.

He had said that he would try, and she could only hope that he’d truly meant it.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” he murmured.

The sapphire ring was heavy and cold as it slid onto her finger.

She said her own vows in a voice that trembled so badly she would be surprised if anyone could understand her.

“I pronounce that they be man and wife.”

Rowan turned to her then. He reached out, his hands framing her face with a tenderness that brought a sudden, stinging warmth to her eyes. It was done. There was no going back now. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead—a gesture of respect that felt far more intimate than a kiss on the lips would have.

“Are you ready to go home, Lady Haversham?” he whispered, her new title sounding strange yet surprisingly wonderful on his tongue. It seemed fitting that he was the first one to call her that.

“I am,” she replied, and she found that she truly was. She was eager to see her new home, to get a feel for the life the words she’d just spoken had bought her.

The group milled around at the back of the church for a few minutes, as Tamsin said her goodbyes to her brother’s family, Rose, and the few other guests.

Rose held on to her for a long time, her whole body trembling. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again. “This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tamsin assured her. “I made my own choices that night, and now I am paying for them. I just beseech you to think about that in the future.”

Rose nodded tearfully, and at last, Tamsin and Rowan were able to head for the door.

The carriage soon pulled away from the church, turning toward Mayfair. It occurred to her that she had no idea where she’d be living. She’d never been to the earl’s house. The absurdity of that made the flicker of optimism she’d been feeling fade away. This had all happened far too quickly. They should have thought things through more carefully.