Wicked Becomes You Read Online Free PDF

pull of the moon on the tide. Had his ship only met with an opposing current or a fractious wind, he would not be here. A mere hour’s delay into port this morning, and he still would have been in Southampton, free to miss this auspicious event.

    Gwen noticed nothing on her walk down the aisle, so absorbed was she in negotiating the flagstones in her spindly, pinching heels. The altar seemed to leap up out of nowhere. Uncle Henry abandoned her with no ceremony, which rattled her; she’d expected a kiss on the cheek or, at the least, the press of his hand on her arm. Thomas was smiling at her and taking her hand, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe; the corset had tightened further and was about to finish her off. And then she saw her brother’s ring shining on Thomas’s finger, her betrothal gift to him.
    The breath returned to her lungs. Of course she wanted this. Who would not want this? Everybody liked him. He was handsome and well-born and always joking. He was the nicest man she knew.
    She stepped forward. The minister began to speak.
    Gwen tried to attend, but an itch started in her nose. How maddening! If she wrinkled her nose it would go, maybe—but she didn’t dare.
    The itch intensified.
    Thomas glanced away toward the audience, and she took that as permission to do so as well. Do not wrinkle. Do not . What a profusion of flowers Elma had ordered! Roses over the chancel, orchids dangling from the rafters, lilies overflowing the baptismal font—good heavens, no wonder she wanted to sneeze! London’s bushes must have been stripped bare. It was a pity that people proved so ferociously single-minded about flowers; sprigs of pine and honeysuckle would have looked just as lovely, but of course nobody would have been impressed, since tree boughs came for free.
    She turned her attention back to Richard’s ring, staring so hard at it that it began to blur. I will not sneeze , she thought, and risked puffing a small bit of air out through her nostrils. It didn’t help. What a monstrous collection; no garden in nature would ever contain such an overpowering combination of scents.
    The minister droned onward. She forced herself to think of something, anything but the itch. Thomas’s hair was such a handsome, true black. She hoped it would overpower her own contribution. While her hair was acceptably close to auburn, Richard and her mother had looked like torches on fire. She did not want her children to accrue nicknames like “Carrot-top.”
    Oh, stars above. If she sneezed, Aunt Elma would never forgive her.
    Why did Thomas keep looking off to the side?
    Gwen followed his glance again. Candlelight flickered over jeweled hat pins, skipping in flashes and gleams across the shifting rainbow of satins. She had the vague impression of smiles, of tears being dabbed discreetly. Warmth flushed through her, and the urge to sneeze subsided. All these dear, dear people! They had come today to rejoice for her. How she loved them for it!
    She glanced back to Thomas. He looked very solemn now. But his hand turned under her palm so their fingers could thread together.
    She found herself blinking back tears. She would be so good to him, better even than he dreamed. He could have anything he liked; she would not withhold a penny, no matter what her solicitors had advised.
    “Do you, Thomas John Whyllson Arundell, take Gwendolyn Elizabeth Maudsley—”
    A door closed at the back of the church. Thomas’s glance flickered away again.
    “—to protect her and cherish her—”
    His face went white. She darted a glance toward the back of the church but saw nothing.
    “—as long as you both shall live?”
    He opened his mouth.
    His mouth closed.
    But he hadn’t spoken. Had he?
    Surely she hadn’t . . . missed it somehow?
    She peered at his lips. They twitched and compressed, forming a flat, hard seal. His fingers began to slip free.
    She tightened her grip and looked an urgent question at him.
    His eyes slid away.
    At