Micah Carrington was hungover at his own wedding. Very hungover.
As he tiredly watched the faceless guests milling about, he realized he had the rest of his life to regret this union. After all, they were *his* guests.
He wondered what had possessed him to go down on his left knee and propose to Lady Adeline Welland.
The sweet, naïve, innocent Lady Welland.
Or, as he knew her, the corny, gullible, ignorant Ms Adeline.
It was not love, that much Micah was certain. It was not even lust because Adeline was as flat as an airport runway. Even flatter, if that was possible.
His decision to propose probably had something to do with the fact that her (dead) father was a successful businessman and her (still living) mother was the famous Duchess Elyth Welland of Kellynich.
Probably. Micah wasn't really sure. His head was too busy throbbing in pain to the tempo of the old-fashioned organ music for him to think straight.
An expected consequence of a wild stag night, really. He just hoped that the media had not gotten wind of it.
'Well,' he mused, 'it doesn't matter now.' Even if the paparazzi had managed to get their grubby little hands on embarrassing photos, it was too late. He would be securely married to one of the most eligible bachelorettes in Belgarvia by the time those pictures were published.
But he would be lying if he said that it did not bother him at all that he couldn't recall much. It's harder to lie when he didn't know what he's supposed to lie about.
Luckily for him and no one else, he did remember to follow the bride's beautiful mother (widowhood was really flattering on her) down the aisle and wait by the altar.
He also knew to tune out the old pastor's preaching and to act pleasantly surprised when the chapel doors opened once more to let the veiled bride in with Mr Reginald Reed, the ancient family butler who had been passed down for generations like an heirloom.
Micah stifled a yawn and quickly blinked away his tears. He put on his best omg-you're-beautiful face to welcome his soon-to-be wife and...
He blinked again.
Something was not quite right.
The wedding dress was supposed to be beautiful. It had looked beautiful weeks ago when Micah bribed Felicia Knight, Adeline's personal maid/friend-for-hire, to give him a little peek.
Tradition dictated that the groom should not see the dress before the ceremony, but, as with most things in their relationship, Micah did not leave it up to chance. If his genuine split-second reaction to the dress was not what Adeline wanted to see, all his efforts so far could easily go down the drain.
Naturally, Micah liked to keep such unwanted surprises to the minimum.
He knew that the Duchess had spared no expense when it came to her daughter's big day—the dress, appropriately modest without compromising on elegance, was made of miles and miles of cream satin and customized specifically for Adeline and Adeline alone.
So why and how the gown ended up at least two sizes too small, Micah really could not say. What he could say was that Adeline was having a difficult time.
She could only take tiny, unstable steps. Mr Reed had to stop after every single step for her to catch up. One glance at her awkward gait and Micah knew that she too must be aware of how ridiculous she looked right now.
She might as well as have worn a straightjacket to her own wedding.
Micah tried his best to keep looking at her general direction while pretending he could not see how the tightness of her dress was causing her flesh to spill out everywhere.
Everywhere, of course, except her chest.
She made him think of a rice dumpling with its filling squeezed out by the wrapping string.
'Stupid girl,' Micah thought. 'What's the point of wanting a smaller size if it makes you look fat?'
But he was an actor. A pretty good one at that if he did say so himself, even if local directors disagreed. So he continued wearing that practiced expression of loving delight even as the bride took her own sweet time to reach the altar.
If he didn't already know what a hopeless romantic Adeline was, he would've thought that she was having second thoughts about marrying him.
Because those shaky steps were beginning to look a lot like hesitation.
Micah hid his frustration. What he lacked in connections and background he must compensate with sincerity. He had to appear deeply in love before the various nobles and entrepreneurs if he wanted them to ever accept him as Lady Welland's husband.
And Lady Welland actually only took a few minutes to walk down the aisle, but those minutes felt like hours. When she finally arrived at her rightful place, Micah's professionalism as an actor flew out of the window.
He frowned.
'Must you,' he complained silently, 'really pick the highest pair of heels and tower over your groom? No wonder you're having difficulty walking. Now we look like a giantess and her simp. Is this what you want on your big day?'
As the bride reached for his hands and clasped them in hers, he couldn't help but shudder.
She tilted her head in concern and he cursed her unexpected perceptiveness.
"Uh, your gloves are, uh, silk. Yes, silk! They're colder than I expected. I was just caught off guard," he explained lamely.
Adeline said nothing, only nodding slightly to indicate her understanding.
Micah felt both relief and contempt at her gesture. 'Huh, I guess she's truly too stupid to question anything.'
But he didn't let any of that show when he recited his vows. He seemed like the perfect groom, looking on indulgently even as the bride clumsily fumbled around over empty air and said her vows in a low, raspy voice.
'She sounds like she's crying before she came in,' Micah thought. 'Out of nervousness and excitement, no doubt. I'll cry of joy if I'm marrying a handsome celebrity too! Silly, silly girl! Now I know why she was walking strangely and holding my hands so tightly. She's in love with me!'
Micah was satisfied that everything made sense. That everything was going according to plan. His plan, to be exact.
He had been worrying over nothing.
So he confidently lifted the veil to kiss his so-called beloved.
And instead of Adeline's small, pouty mouth, he was greeted with the sight of a masculine jaw silently mouthing, "I am so, so sorry about this."
This jaw, which was caked in makeup in a useless bid to make it seem more feminine, suddenly jerked forward to kiss Micah squarely on his lips.
And everything stopped making sense again.