He rose and headed back through the house. He had visited this home often

enough, with Cary, and knew his way. First, he returned to the parlor, where, as

the bishop had said, Katerina lay asleep on the sofa.

He knelt in front of her. “I wish I had helped you sooner,” he told her as she

slept, “but I swear I'll never let him hurt you again.” Then he kissed her lips tenderly.

Her eyelids fluttered open. Warm brown eyes met his, and she smiled.

“Rest, love,” he told her, “tomorrow is your wedding day.”

Shy hope and gratitude dawned in her eyes. “Thank you, Christopher.”

Since she was awake, he kissed her once more and enjoyed her response.

Then he ran his hand soothingly over her forehead until her eyelids shut again.

CHAPTER 7

A t noon the next day, Katerina walked slowly and painfully from the

hansom cab up through the wrought-iron fence surrounding the

churchyard garden, which now lay dormant under the grip of a frigid London winter. Ahead of her, a small, plain building constructed of golden bricks awaited. There, she would finally shake off the risk of her father's abuse for good.

Wind ruffled her icy blue wedding dress, which she'd borrowed from the

bishop's late wife's closet. It fit badly, being both too short and too generously cut for her, but there was no help for it. Her party gown had been ruined with blood.

She leaned heavily on Christopher for support as they proceeded up the

steps, through an arched wooden door in which a single rosette window of colorless glass admitted a ray of pale winter sunlight.

Katerina passed James Cary, who sat biting his fingernails. Two strangers

perched beside him—an older couple in rugged clothing. Probably the

groundskeeper and the cleaning woman pressed into service as witnesses, Katerina thought idly. No time for a congregation and I wouldn't want one if I could have it.

Katerina felt a sudden, fierce pleasure. Father must be awake from his drunken stupor by now. He's sick and angry and no doubt searching for me, but

he'll never find me in time. Everyone who knows where I am is in this room. The realization bolstered her confidence.

Her wounds, though no longer bleeding, felt stiff and fragile. She walked carefully, pain exploding with every step until they stood in front of an altar beneath a white barrel-vaulted ceiling decorated with a wide wooden lattice.

Bishop Cary waited for them, his prayer book in his hand. He opened it, though his eyes remained fixed on Katerina, concern twisting his face as he spoke. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in

the face of this congregation…” he glanced at the pew beyond the couple at the

three assembled individuals before hurrying on.

Katerina’s attention wavered again. I can scarcely believe I’m doing this…

and on the other hand, how could I not? The bishop’s sonorous recitation broke through her contemplation. It’s your wedding, girl. Pay attention.

“Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin.”

Sin, ha. Some might say this very wedding is a sin, but it's not. Honoring my

father is impossible. No matter how good I was, I've never been able to satisfy

his demands, and now I'm was being very bad, defying him, and the rewards will

be considerable.

The bishop continued. “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined

together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it…”

Again, her unfairness to Christopher struck her. If there is an impediment, that would be it. I gain everything from this marriage, but what does he gain? A ruined, terrified bride. A shudder ran up her spine, but she reminded herself that he knew what he was doing. At least, I hope he does, and besides, I do have the

option—no, the duty—to try to become a worthy wife. Someday, Lord willing, I'll

succeed.

Shaking off her wandering thoughts again, Katerina focused her attention

back on Bishop Cary, just as he turned to Christopher. “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long

as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” Christopher replied in a calm, fearless voice. He looked into Katerina's face, meeting her eyes. This time, the static shock of their undeniable

connection radiated warm and deep into the recesses of her being.

It stole her breath for a moment, and it was only faintly, as though from a great distance, that she heard the bishop speaking to her. “Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep

him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him,

so long as ye both shall live?”

“I… ahem.” She cleared her throat of a sudden, raspy sound. “I will.”

As they had no one to give away the bride—in essence, Christopher was