Excerpt of Debt of Honor by Ann Clement

Percy arrived at the church half an hour before the ceremony. Having done this before, he felt no particular anxiety about going through the required motions. There was only the sense of doom uncomfortably lodged in his chest since Stanville’s visit to Bromsholme a week earlier. Percy’s life’s goal was now achieved, but at a cost he had never anticipated. The deep satisfaction that his old home would be his in a matter of minutes was marred by the impediment of a bride—the bride he would have never chosen if he had had the choice. True, Lady Letitia seemed pretty enough, perched yesterday on that rock at the top of the outcropping bordering Wycombe Oaks’ park. But he hadn’t missed the hauteur when she practically questioned his reason for climbing up there. And if half the gossip circulating about her in London was true, that had been only a preview of the spoiled heiress’s willful ways.

His gaze wandered to the altar and a couple of small flower arrangements placed there for the occasion. How different from his first wedding in London when the church had resembled a hothouse and the pews had overflowed with guests. Then he could hardly contain his happiness, and the wait at the altar had seemed interminable. He remembered Sarah walking down the aisle on her father’s arm, and his adoration for her, love bursting in his heart when she smiled shyly at him. Ah, Sarah…

He shifted his gaze to a nondescript spot on the wall and his thoughts to the present moment. He was about to enter a marriage of convenience from which there was nothing to be expected. And yet, nothingness was this marriage’s most attractive promise. He did not need or want another woman in his life.

The sounds at the door resonating through the empty church interrupted his thoughts. His bride must have arrived.

Percy turned. She stood next to her father, a slim girl with hair the color of ripe wheat, arranged high on her head and adorned with some lace and dainty, white flowers. She wore a simple, white dress and held a bouquet of white roses.

She gazed at him then, and he saw a sudden flicker of recognition in her eyes. Her lips compressed with displeasure. No wonder. He should have introduced himself yesterday. With visible impatience, the Earl of Stanville offered his daughter an arm and started walking down the aisle rather too quickly for the occasion. Apparently, he too could not wait for this to be over. Lady Letitia Parker had hardly time to lift the hem of her dress before stepping on it.

They reached the altar in record time, and after responding to Percy’s perfunctory bow with a mere jerk of his head, Stanville motioned the parson to proceed.

Percy said his vows as prompted and listened with indifference to his bride’s recitation of her part. When a moment later he bent down to place a disinterested peck near the corner of her mouth, her large green eyes seared him with a pointed accusation.

Stanville was already walking away from the table where the register had been placed for their convenience. He reached them as soon as they turned away from the altar.

“My best wishes for your happiness,” he mumbled, examining his pocket watch. “I must be off, if you will excuse me.”

And without so much as one look at his daughter and son- in-law, he turned and hastily left the church. The sounds of his departing carriage echoed between the old walls as Percy led his bride toward the table with the register. Stanville’s lack of paternal love barely intruded upon his mind. His heart already beat with the expectation of the coming night. The moment he had dreamed of for years was only hours away.