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.