A breeze tickled her cheek, and the bell of the church began to toll. “We should go. The Duke will not want to be kept waiting. Chin up, Land; it will all be okay.”
Landon gave her a weak smile. “I feel like I should be comforting you.”
Lydia made a dismissive motion, even as her own heart twisted. “What are big sisters for? I will be fine.”
It is a choice. The Duke’s voice echoed in her head, and she straightened. She had made this choice. She could do this. She had always done this, sacrificing for those around her. Why should this be any different?
The doors to the church swung open, and they stepped inside. The pews were full of strangers—members of the ton, some local parishioners that Lydia knew by sight if not name—but the pew were the bride’s family should sit was notably empty.
She glanced at Archer’s side of the church and saw a crowd of people there, one of whom was leaning down talking to someone Lydia could not see.So many people are here for him.
Her eyes continued to the front of the church, and she found the Duke. Her breath caught. His long black hair was pulled back from his face, and his high cheekbones and cold gaze made Lydia think of some kind of avenging angel. He filled the space, commanding the attention of everyone around him, dwarfing the priest who stood beside him.
“He is so tall,” Lydia murmured as they approached the Duke.
“I expect it will take some getting used to for you,” Landon teased, and Lydia managed not to wince.
She knew her brother was trying to joke to put her at ease, but her height was a particularly sore subject. Not that he knew that. He thought she was proud of it, proud of being taller than every woman she met and as tall as most men. Not the Duke though. He made her feel small.
I hate that some part of me likes that.
They were at the dais, and her brother was handing her to the Duke. His eyes were full of a dark emotion that Lydia could not name. It seemed almost like hunger, but it could not be. “You look radiant, Duchess.”
His voice held an edge that set Lydia’s heart fluttering. She wanted to thank him, but as she peered up into his eyes, all words left her. It was like drowning in pools of honey. The world around her swam.
She felt strong arms around her back, the Duke steadying her against him. His eyes were wide with concern, even as the rest of his face betrayed nothing.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She could feel the warmth of him through her dress. “A little lightheaded, that is all.”
“If you need a break, we can take one.”
“But your Grace—” the priest began, but the Duke cut him off with a look, his voice like a knife made entirely of ice.
“If my wife needs time, you will give it to her, Father.”
The priest swallowed, and Lydia’s chest squeezed. Every hair on her body stood on end, gooseflesh covered her skin. She gently placed a hand on the Duke without thinking. His muscles tensed, and she drew back her hand as though burned.
“I do not want to keep anyone waiting.” Lydia’s eyes met the Duke’s. “I do not want to be a bother.”
“It is no trouble. I will make sure of it. If you need a moment, all you have to do is ask.” The Duke’s voice was soft and low so that only Lydia could hear it.
“I am fine. I just want to get this over with.” She managed to get the words out breathlessly.
“Very well.” The Duke stiffened and released her from his grip, but Lydia had the sense that he was watching for any sign that she might not be okay. “You may continue, Father.”
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” the priest’s voice filled the room.
Lydia let it wash over her.How can this stranger seem to read me so easily?Why did it feel like her head was full of cotton whenever she was near him? Perhaps Landon was right, perhaps it was simply the strangeness of looking up at someone.
The Duke’s fingers twitched and then clenched into a fist as Lydia searched for some sign of emotion in his face. She rested a hand on her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.He does not care about me; he just does not want to be embarrassed by my fainting in front of the congregation.
Their eyes met as the priest took Lydia’s hand and placed it in Duke Dashings’. Warmth spread through the tips of her fingers and her body, and a shiver almost ran through her.
“I, Archer Baine, Duke of Dashings, take thee, Lady Lydia Babington to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,” The Duke’s voice was powerful and commanding.
Anything your heart desires, except my own.Lydia did not want his heart, but she could not help but feel a stab of pain as he said ‘cherish’.What would that even feel like?“I, Lady Lydia Babington, take thee, Archer Baine, Duke of Dashings, to my wedded husband…”
