His Lady Mistress

124 His Lady Mistressin his felt as though it might shatter with the tension. Hecould feel the fine trembling. Damn. Was she that frightenedof him?Gently he stroked his thumb over her knuckles and concentratedon repeating his vows. ‘I, Maxwell James Blakehurst,take thee, Verity Anne, to my wedded wife...’ Anothervow. Before God and man. Somehow he would have to tryto reconcile it with the other promises he had made. ‘...tolove and to cherish...’ he dismissed the frisson of shame.Plenty of people took these vows every day with not the leastnotion of keeping to all of them ‘...and thereto I plight theemy troth.’Could he dishonour himself in that way? A queer thoughtcame to him—could he do that to Verity? Force her intomarriage and continue to entertain himself as he pleased?Verity’s husky whisper, repeating her vows, pierced him.No hesitation, just that shattered note in her voice, as thoughher throat hurt. She hadn’t wanted this marriage. She hadbegged him to release her. He had refused, insisted on marriage.And then Lord Faringdon had arrived, demanding herreturn. Max didn’t doubt that her fear of being forced to returnto the Faringdons had broken her resistance to the marriage.It didn’t make him feel any better.‘...and thereto I give thee my troth.’Carefully Max took the glove from her left hand, his heartcontracted at the reddened, work-roughened state of her slenderfingers, the cracking. Steeling himself, he turned to Richardand found the ring waiting for him. He laid it upon theprayerbook for the minister to bless.Then he was placing it on Verity’s fourth finger. Grimlyhe saw that there was an especially deep crack at the base ofthat finger. The ring stuck a little going over her knuckle,then went on with a rush. The only sign she gave that he hadhurt her was a sharp little gasp, but it stabbed deep into Maxand without thinking he lifted her hand to his lips and gentlykissed it.