One of the Bannons’ footmen opened the door to the back room where I’d holed up to keep myself from killing every single human in the chapel. When he said it was time, I straightened my waistcoat, raked a hand through my glamoured curls, and stepped into the main sanctuary.
A handful of witnesses filled the pews.
Aveen’s father looked chuffed with himself, his undoubtedly new charcoal suit impeccable.
The sister’s gaze remained firmly planted on her ivory shoes peeping from beneath the ivory gown she wore. She clutched a bouquet of flowers like they could save her from this fate.
After a short welcome, the priest got right to the vows. I repeated every lie, playing my role. When he asked for a ring, I withdrew the gold band I’d purchased in town the day before and shoved the thing on her finger. She had one for me as well. A ring easily removed. If this had been a Danú ceremony, there would’ve been magic involved, leaving us both with black rings around our fingers only death could erase. Luckily for me, this wouldn’t be legal in any court of law, Airren or Tearmann, because my name wasn’t actually Edward Joseph DeWarn.
The priest cleared his throat. “I said, you may kiss the bride.”
For the first time, Aveen’s sister raised her eyes to mine, and I met her steely gray gaze without grimacing. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I gave her a peck on the cheek, fighting the urge to wipe the taste of lavender from my lips.
Lord Bannon caught my hand, squeezing my fingers as if the pain would do anything but make me want to call fire to my palm and burn his skin clean off. “She is my most precious girl,” he said. “Take care of her.”
This one was his most precious? What of his daughter who had died? Had he forgotten about Aveen already? He cared for the women in his life only as far as they could help him. I should’ve torn his head from his worthless body and set him alight. I may not have cared for my new wife, but I had no plans to use her in any way.
I’d never thought this about anything, but perhaps she was better off with me than with him.
After the ceremony, Lord Bannon had organized a small dinner at his estate. I couldn’t help thinking of the last time I’d been in this very room, wearing a dress and falling for a woman who loved to play in dirt. I’d taken Aveen’s chair as my own like a sentimental fool, wanting to be near her in any way possible.
When the dinner was done, the cake cut, and final toasts given, Aveen’s sister and I returned to Graystones in Lord Bannon’s carriage. Her coachman, Padraig, glared at me until he took his bench behind the horses. The woman I’d married stared out the window at the landscape whizzing past while I watched raindrops collect on the glass. We reached Graystones far too quickly, and before I knew it, I found myself standing in the townhouse next to my new wife.
“That’s the parlor.” I gestured toward the room. “The kitchen and dining room are back there, as are the library and my study.” I’d shifted some furniture from unused rooms at the castle and purchased the rest. Nothing too opulent, but serviceable and in keeping with someone who had such a prestigious occupation as Edward DeWarn.
Aveen’s sister glanced toward the stairs at my back. “And upstairs?”
I started for the upper floor, wincing as her heels clopped behind me. “I’ve a room prepared for you at the end of the hall,” I said, pointing to one of the two bedrooms on my right, the one with an attached ensuite. The maids had spent the day getting it ready, bringing linens and knickknacks along with trunks full of dresses from the estate. The two maids and new cook were the only staff in the household, graciously sent by Lord Bannon. The man likely didn’t have the funds necessary to cover their wages. Still, it saved me from having to hire my own staff, and the three of them should be enough to make Keelynn’s life here more than comfortable.
“Which one is your room?” she asked in a quiet voice, scanning the three other doors.
“That one.” Third door at the opposite end of the hall, near a circular window overlooking the neighbor’s shoddy back garden.
She stepped away from me—and my room—backing toward her own. “If it’s all right with you, Ambassador, I am feeling rather tired and would like to retire.”
“You are not my ward and can do whatever you’d like. Although you should probably call me Edward.”Our arrangement would be strange enough without people questioning why she called me by my title.
She turned toward her room, and I escaped to mine. No curtains lined the windows, no rug to soften my heavy footsteps, and only a small armoire for a handful of my least-favorite clothes. Colorful waistcoats, breeches in deep green, navy, and maroon. Items I’d clearly purchased while drunk. Or that Tadhg had bought for me and slipped to the back of my armoire.
Falling into bed face-first, I groaned into the too-soft mattress. I’d linger for a day or two, claim to be called away for some purpose or another, and return to Tearmann. I should be able to keep that up for a few months before Tadhg grew suspicious.
And then Edward would have to die. A simple accident away from Graystones so that Aveen’s sister wouldn’t be suspected of foul play. Then, she’d be able to live out the rest of her life however she chose. Being a widow in Airren was nothing compared to being a man, but it would afford her some rights and allow her to inherit this house and everything in it. I’d need to set up an account in her name, leaving enough funds for her to survive. Hopefully she didn’t squander it all on frivolous shite. Not that I’d be coming back to check on her.
A soft knock interrupted my musings. Before I could tell the person to leave me the hell alone, the door opened.Aveen’s sister stepped in wearing a green silk robe, dark hair unbound, falling nearly to her waist.
I jerked off the bed, stumbling back toward the window. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear, her pale throat bobbing when she swallowed. “It is our wedding night, is it not?”
Feck it all. She thought I would actually touch her?
What was I saying? I’d married her, hadn’t I? “Neither of us wanted this,” I reminded her.
“I know, but—”
“The only reason I married you was to save you from scandal. This will not be a real marriage. I’m sorry you were led to believe otherwise.”
Her jaw flushed.