A Lady Betrayed by Nicole Byrd

nothing wrong with that,” he told her, his lips lifting just slightly at the corners.
    â€œOf course not,” she agreed, smiling, too.
    â€œYorkshire fare can be just as pleasing as French cuisine, or London dinners, for that matter,” he assured her.
    â€œNo doubt,” she said, not sure that she believed it. What was he trying to tell her? She wasn’t sure, although she suspected there was more at the heart of this conversation than mere styles of cookery.
    There was a slight pause, then her father broke the silence.
    â€œSo, has it been decided—are we going to have the banns read on Sunday?”
    The viscount looked quizzical, but turned to Madeline and left it to her to answer. And oh, dear, she was blushing again!
    Madeline licked the end of her spoon with careful deliberation; her mouth seemed enormously dry. She had to take a sip of her wine before she could answer.
    â€œYes, Papa,” she said. “We are.”
    She saw her father smile, and when at last she dared to look toward the viscount, she saw him meet her gaze with a gleam in his eyes that she could not decipher.
    But something inside her leapt in response.

    So it was that on Sunday morning, she found herself sitting in the family pew, with her father on one side and Lord Weller on the other, conscious of the stares of most of the other churchgoers. With some effort, Maddie kept her eyes straight ahead and, with even more effort, managed to keep her thoughts on the service. Well, mostly on the service. After the second lesson, there was a slight pause, and then their aged vicar read the familiar words. But hearing her name read aloud gave Maddie the sensation of being assaulted, as though the words had somehow pummeled her like stones from a catapult.
    â€œMadeline Margaret Applegate…to wed…Adrian Phillip Carter, Viscount Weller of Huntingtonshire. If any person can name any impediment to this marriage, let him speak now or forever hold his peace….”
    The church seemed suddenly full of sound as people shifted position in their pews, and the old wooden benches creaked in protest. Maddie found she was holding her breath.
    But no one spoke out.
    Of course they would not, why should they?
    In a moment, the vicar went on with the service, and she exhaled with a long sigh, trying not to allow her unease to show. The viscount would think she was mad. It was just—she wasn’t sure why she felt so restive.
    She was glad when the service finally wound its way to a close. She took her rectangular cushion with its handsome needlework design that her mother had done with her own hand and knelt upon it for the final prayer, glad to have the padding between her knees and the cold stone floor of the old church.
    When the last “Amen” was said, she stood, still pondering the mysteries of marriage, and lingered without speaking as the church emptied. Lord Weller waited for her father to turn his wheeled chair, and they headed for the front door of the church.
    Adrian found that his shoulders ached with tension. He had been fighting the urge to look behind him ever since the banns had been read. He seemed to feel the eyes of every person in the church concentrated on the back of his head, even though the pews hid much of his tall frame. And without any rational reason, he kept wanting to turn and search the crowd of parishioners to see if he could make out his cousin’s face amid the cluster of churchgoers.
    â€œYou’re going as mad as Francis,” he murmured to himself.
    Madeline glanced up at him, and he pushed back his worries with great effort, smiled down at her instead, and offered his arm. She smiled back as they made their way toward the sunshine outside the open church door.
    The vicar stood at the doorway and gave cheery greetings to his flock at they all exited the church.
    â€œAh, my dear Miss Applegate, you too will taste the joys of matrimony, just as your younger sisters