Mary stared at her trembling hands. This was insane—but so was marrying Mr. John. So, she reached for Mckenna's hand, and together, they walked toward the priest.
No one objected. Not even Mr. John, who now sat on the floor, dusting his shirt.
Mrs. Hathaway's eyes widened—she was the only one with a sliver of courage.
"What is he doing?" she gasped, tugging her husband's sleeve. "Stop him!"
Mr. Hathaway sighed. "There's nothing I can do. He ruined her."
"No... no," Mrs. Hathaway protested, voice rising. "Stay away from her—she's already betrothed!"
"To the old peer?" Mckenna said, still looking only at Mary. "That's a poor decision, Mrs. Hathaway."
"Bu—but—"
"I'll see to it that your business stands strong," he said, sparing her a brief glance. "Surely, you'd prefer the man who defiled your daughter to be the one who marries her. No?"
Mrs. Hathaway trembled, stumbling toward a nearby table and pouring herself a glass of wine. Her hand shook, but she downed it in one gulp. "Dear me…"
The priest, stunned and far too afraid to object, continued the ceremony with them instead.
"And now, I pronounce you husband and wife."
To Mary's surprise, Mckenna had come prepared. He had even bought her a diamond-studded ring, which now sat on her finger. Her heart raced—she didn't know if it was the excitement, or the overwhelming relief that she was finally out of this mess.
They were now married.
She beamed, lifting her hand and watching the ring catch the sunlight. But no one clapped. No one shared her joy. Only stunned silence filled the room, as Marybeth Hathaway became Marybeth Mckenna—the wife of a stranger no one could understand.
No one stepped forward, but murmurs rippled through the room. Even her parents stood at a distance, watching with wide eyes—her mother's hands clutched tightly to her father's sleeve.
"How can we just stand here and watch a stranger marry our precious daughter?" she said, loud enough for it to echo through the room.
All eyes turned to Mary—some with shock, most with pity.
Mckenna looked out at the crowd with a bored expression, as though he couldn't wait for this to be over.
Mary's smile faltered.
She turned to her mother, lips parted in disbelief. Precious daughter? For days she had cried, tugging at her mother's dress, begging not to be handed to the old peer. And what had she received in return? A look of disdain and a shove to the wrist.
"Do… do you—" her father began, his voice uncertain as he looked into Mckenna's dark eyes, "we don't… we don't have a dowry set for her."
Mrs. Hathaway stepped forward. Of all the people in the room, aside from the couple, she seemed the next most confident—though her trembling hands betrayed her. She clasped them tightly and stood before her husband, then looked directly at Mckenna.
"We have no money," she said, her voice tight. "That is why she was to marry Mr. John." She gestured toward the old peer, who leaned against the wall with a deep frown, his knuckles white around his cane. "What is it you can possibly offer us, hmm? How dare you lure our daughter into your bed?"
"There's no stopping now," Mckenna said flatly. "We're already married."
"You filth—" she began, but her words caught when he stepped forward, his other hand tightening around Mary's.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice suddenly smaller.
He walked toward her, gaze fixed and unflinching. Mrs. Hathaway stumbled back at the weight of it.
"I'll give you a minute," he said quietly, "to spend with your daughter."
A hush fell over the room.
"Because once she walks out of here… you'll never see her again."
Marybeth's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly clamped it shut. Slowly, she turned to her parents.
They stared at Mckenna as if he had just slapped them.
"What do you mean?" Mr. Hathaway was the first to break the silence, his voice suddenly firm.
"She will be my bride," Mckenna said evenly, "live in my home… and have no visitors."
Mrs. Hathaway staggered. Her hand clutched her chest as she turned to Mary.
"This is the life you choose? If only you had married the old peer, you'd be living the life you always dreamed of! But now look—look at the chaos you've caused, all because you opened your legs to a stranger!"
Mary swallowed hard, her nervous fingers rubbing against each other as she stared at the floor.
"That's enough!" Mckenna's voice thundered across the room. "One minute," he added more quietly, turning toward the side table and pouring himself a glass of wine.
The fire crackled, casting golden light across Mckenna's sharp jawline. Beside him, Mr. John scrambled to a corner, then hurried off, leaning heavily on his cane for support.
"I s–shall l–leave and never c–come back," he stuttered.
He walked hastily, but Mr. Hathaway intercepted him halfway.
"Please, Mr. John. I'm sure there's a way out of this."
"You saw it," Mr John whispered harshly, trying to keep his voice low so Mckenna wouldn't hear—though who was he fooling? "They're married. She's ruined. I can't take her now."
Mrs. Hathaway's eyes widened. "I'm sure we can find a way to fix this—"
"Fix this?" Mr John snapped, eyes burning into her. "I'm done. Do what you must with her, but return every penny of the dowry I dropped at your feet."
He stormed out. And one by one, the guests followed, until only Mckenna—and the family—remained.
Mrs. Hathaway's shoulders slumped. She turned to Mary, her voice small and trembling with fear.
"Tell me… how can you fix that?"
Mary staggered back.
"Tell me!"
Mckenna set the glass down on the table with a soft clink, then strode toward them with a calm that unsettled everyone in the room. They stared at him like he was a ghost—for something about his presence prickled their skin and stole their breath.
"Your minute is up," he said simply, taking Mary's hand.
"Wa…wait… Mck—enna," Mary stammered, eyes lowered, avoiding her parents' gaze as he led her past them.
She felt guilt rise in her chest—thick and heavy—but wasn't guilt better than marrying an old man? Still, their words clung to her. Astranger, they had said. They were right.
Her heart pounded. She had finally broken free from the nightmare of her arranged fate, yet a part of her was still afraid of the life ahead.
McKenna paused by the curtain door just before slipping out. He glanced over his shoulder.
"Ah… you don't have to worry about her dowry. I've covered it all."
"What?" Mary's eyes widened as she stared at him.
"Come with me," he said.
They followed him down the hallway to the courtyard opening—and there, stacked neatly on their doorstep, were boxes of gold and jewelry.
"When did you…?"
Mary couldn't find her voice. Her mouth parted as she stared at the jewels—things she was certain cost a fortune.
Suddenly, her mother's face lit up with joy. She squatted by the boxes, touching each piece like it was a miracle.
"How… Look at this, honey."
Mr. Hathaway crouched beside his wife, his own eyes stretching wide with delight.
"These… these are the rarest of gold!"
"Take her with you," he said quickly. "It doesn't matter if we can't come visit her. This is… more than enough."
Mary clutched her dress, gripping so tightly her knuckles turned white. Behind her, McKenna stood, eyes fixed on his watch—clearly unaffected by everything happening. She gulped, and her gaze shifted to Mrs. Jenny, who leaned quietly by the door.
Mrs. Jenny walked over in haste and took her hand gently, the way a mother would a child.
"Are you okay?"
Mary nodded, offering a half-smile.
Mrs. Jenny glanced at McKenna, then back at her. "Do you truly know this man? You've never spoken of him."
"I do," Mary replied confidently—but there was a crack in her voice, one Mrs. Jenny didn't miss.
"All will be well with you, my child."
For what else could she say? The parents were ready to trade their daughter for gold, and Mary looked more relieved than she ever did when she was to marry the old peer.
"I've packed your luggage into the carriage chart," Mrs. Jenny added.
Mary nodded in thanks, then the older woman turned to McKenna.
"Promise me, sir… that you'll take care of my dear girl."
He stared at her blankly, eyes unreadable.
"I don't make promises," he said, his voice so cold it made her shiver.