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Beatrice looked slightly wounded by that, but he did not see the purpose in soothing her. He was not going to be hard on her. Not in the end of all things. But he also did not see the purpose in making this any easier on her than it need be.
She had been the architect of this particular sort of destruction.
It does not matter to you.
It did not. It did not and would not matter to him. It could not.
The brothels would receive him whether or not he was newly wed.
And with thoughts of brothels lingering in his mind they entered the church again. The minister was standing there looking reproving, and Briggs had a strange sensation of guilt, which was not something he carried with him often. The minister must be very good.
Briggs could almost feel the hellfire against his heels as he stood there.
Sadly, he was a man who enjoyed the flames. He never had been properly able to feel shame.
Not over certain things.
He had been correct, the only other souls in attendance were Beatrice’s mother, and Eleanor, the ward.
Eleanor, for her part, looked quite large-eyed and upset. On behalf of her friend no doubt. Being married off to the big bad Duke.
The minister read from the Book of Common Prayer, and Briggs’s most dominant thought was how strange it was to be here again.
With yet another young, sweet miss.
But he was not the man that he’d been. Going into marriage with expectations of something entirely different.
He had been certain that he could make a friendship with his wife. At the very least.
Be something other than his parents’ frosty union.
He had not managed it. If anything, he had failed.
He had failed at forging connections with all of the most important people in his life. With the exception of course of Kendal. Though that was likely somewhat compromised now.
It was a short ceremony. Quick and traditional. Legal. And that was all that mattered. They were married in the eyes of the church. And society would have to be appeased by the quick union.
It was incredible how decisive it was. A spare few words exchanged between two people who had been little more than acquaintances to each other a few days prior and they were now bound together for life.
* * *
And then they were bundled up into their carriage, making the three-hour journey to Maynard Park. And they had not exchanged a single word to each other since that moment in the garden.
‘You will tell me, if you have need of anything,’ he said.
‘Such as?’ she asked.
‘Clothing. We are to go for the Season, I assume you will wish to go to... Balls.’
She blinked. ‘I did not think that you would wish to attend them.’
‘I do not,’ he said. ‘But you are my ward. Not my prisoner, for all that I may have alluded otherwise.’
‘I’m not your ward,’ she said softly.
‘It is best if we think of it that way.’
And that he not think of last night, and the temptation he’d felt.
