What had been decided would now be carried out. There was no reason to reconsider it, and he had no intention of doing so.
The chapel came into view at last its spire catching the light of the morning sun. Julian’s attention lingered on it for a fraction longer than necessary, and in that moment a single thought intruded: what was he doing?
He dismissed it almost immediately. The thought was irrelevant. The arrangements had been made, the agreement reached, the terms accepted. There was no reason to dwell.
Inside, the chapel was simple, just as he preferred. The guests were arranged with care, polite murmurs held in check, faces attentive but controlled. The ceremony proceeded, every movement and word falling into place as though the day had been planned for nothing else.
Julian stood beside Eleanor at the altar, his attention on the officiant only when necessary. He was aware of her presence, steady, calm, and entirely in control. There was no hesitation in her stance, and as always there was no sign of faltering. The understanding between them remained absolute.
The vows were exchanged, and the officiant pronounced them husband and wife. There was a quiet pause, a brief collective intake of breath among the gathering, and then the polite, restrained applause that followed such a proper ceremony.
Julian allowed the formality to pass without indulgence, his focus remaining on Eleanor, observing the composed steadiness in her expression.
Outside, the carriage waited. Julian assisted Eleanor in stepping aboard with deliberate care, mindful of her posture, her composure. The horses moved off, the wheels turning steadily against the road, carrying them away from the chapel and toward the Harrowby Estate.
He settled into the seat beside her, his attention briefly returning to the road and the movement of the world outside. The chapel, the ceremony, the words exchanged, they were now all behind him. There was nothing left to consider but the journey ahead.
The chapel receded quickly behind them.
Julian did not look back. There was nothing there that required revisiting. The ceremony had been completed without interruption, without deviation. It had proceeded exactly as it should have done.
And yet, as the carriage settled into its rhythm, the brief question returned, and he asked himself what on Earth he was doing.
He dismissed it as he had before. The decision had been made with full awareness of its terms. There was nothing uncertain about it. Beside him, Eleanor sat as she had throughout the morning, her attention resting somewhere beyond the window. There was no visible sign that anything had altered, though everything had.
Julian studied her for a moment.
"You are very quiet," he said.
She did not look at him immediately.
"I thought you might appreciate it."
"I do not object to conversation."
"That is reassuring," she replied, turning her head slightly. "I should not wish to begin our marriage by causing discomfort."
"That would be inefficient."
"Entirely."
There was a brief pause. Julian did not usually ask questions he did not require answers to. This one, however, did not fall neatly into that category.
"Are you satisfied," he said, "with what has taken place?"
Eleanor’s expression shifted, just slightly.
"That is a very formal way of asking the question."
"It is a formal situation."
"I suppose it is. It is just that we have never been like that. I rather think that I am the only person in England that could make you as… well, as heated as I do. Besides, it is rather late to ask if I am happy."
"Late?" he repeated.
"Yes," she said, with a trace of amusement. "You might have raised the matter before the vows, if you cared."
He looked at her more directly now, the composure still present but no longer entirely unaffected.