He Objects

Chapter 5: He Objects

The church was full of robust white flower arrangements, thick pale ribbons, and people. I knew the turnout was supposed to be decent, but it looked like word may have spread about Prince Henri being in attendance. I quickly scanned the crowd, then settled my eyes on the front of the church, where Felix waited for me. Could my father tell how badly my knees were shaking?

Felix looked solemn, standing next to the bishop with his hands clasped loosely together as he looked at me. Not a hair on his head was out of place, his clothes tailored to perfection. For once, he didn't seem openly frigid towards me, though I imagined that was due to half the nobility in the country gathered in the church rather than anything about me. Not that any of them were looking at him at that moment. As always, this was the part where all eyes were on the bride. Me.

The aisle seemed endless, made even longer by the slow gait my father and I had to stick to in order to keep time with the music. As we walked, I overheard the oohs and ahhs of admirers, plentiful but not quite enough to mask the disappointed sighs of several young ladies who wished they were in my shoes right now.

Take my place, I thought, facing the inevitable. I'll gladly give it up.

The processional crescendoed as we closed the distance to the front of the church. Strangers and friends gave way to family in the pews on either side of us, and I found myself looking at them instead of Felix, afraid that if I saw any coldness in his gaze I would turn around and bolt, reneging on a deal I had no say in and ruining the plans of both my parents and the Kentworth family.

It was then that I spotted him. A few rows from the front, right next to the aisle, sat Prince Henri. I was momentarily startled that he had chosen such a conspicuous place to sit. I figured he would have wanted to keep to the edge of the church so he wouldn't be easily seen. But perhaps he had been positioned on purpose, so everyone would know he was there, whether he liked it or not.

Though he had some similar features to Felix—they both had broad shoulders and a tapered waist, Grecian nose, and slightly curled hair—everything about him just seemed slightly...more. His eyes were almost liquid silver, lighter than Felix's gray ones, and his hair was darker, very nearly the same shade as mine. I suspected if he stood up he'd be at least an inch taller than Felix, an inch wider at the shoulders.

He was looking at me, like everyone else, but something about the look on his face made my stomach flip. It was more intense than I would have thought it would be, given the surly expression he had given me at the debutante ball when I was sixteen. I found myself gulping as I forced myself to look away, lest I become mesmerized by those molten silver eyes.

Too late, my eyes landed on Felix, to find his expression darkened as his gaze flicked almost imperceptibly from the prince to me. Oh dear. Up until now, I didn't think I had done anything to provoke his dislike—other than being betrothed to him, which was out of my control. But apparently, the discord between his family and the royal line ran deep. The look on his face was clear. Even looking at the prince was off limits.

Finally, we made it to the front. My father took my hand from the crook of his elbow and placed it in Felix's hand, giving me away. It happened so fast, making me feel like my father was glad to be rid of me, though I knew that wasn't the case. But he was as eager as my mother for this wedding to happen, though he hid it better.

I looked up at Felix to find him staring back at me, his face a mask of impassivity. I forced a small smile, mainly for my parents' benefit, and we turned toward the bishop together.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together today for..." the bishop droned, immediately losing the attention of the crowd. He was ancient, and had been assisting with Sunday morning naptime for many a parishoner for decades. My eyes glazed over as I tuned him out, focusing on remaining upright and breathing in my too-tight gown, and hoping my palm wasn't getting too sweaty, resting in Felix's hand.

"...If anyone has an objection as to why they may not be lawfully wed, speak now or forever hold your peace," the bishop said, pausing for effect.

A second passed, then I heard a collective gasp from behind us. The bishop looked astonished. As I hadn't yet heard anybody say anything, I maintained my position, only barely turning my head to glance up at Felix.

Except Felix was staring behind us, a vehement glare fixed on his face. Did his mother have something to say? He seemed to be looking in her direction. Following his line of vision, I twisted around to confirm who it was. Then I stifled my own gasp.

It wasn't the dowager duchess. It Prince Henri. He was still seated along with everyone else, but his hand was lazily lifted into the air, catching the bishop's—and everyone else's—attention.

His lips parted. "I object."