A Duke had offered her marriage.
True, he had spoken with the romantic flourish she might have imagined in a groom, but his posturing had been for Briarwood’s eyes. They were not in love. And yet, the fact that he insisted the marriage would keep her safe from Briarwood, and anyone who’d dare harm her, made her heart race.
She could not stop thinking about the contrast in him: composed and serious in the company of others, yet quietly mischievous when they were alone on the path leading to the vicarage.
She allowed her mind to wander as she recounted all that had passed between them.
Have I only known the man for two days?
Daphne had never dreamed of accepting a proposal such as this one and yet, she had entered into this agreement with clear eyes. She had chosen the Duke of Wolfcrest and she prayed, as sleepdescended upon her, that her bold actions would prove to be wise.
Chapter Five
“Breathe, sister,” Daniel murmured beside her. She was glad that he was there, being the best protective brother there ever could be. “You’re beautiful and have nothing to worry about.”
While his words comforted her, the church still loomed before her, intimidating, grey, and solemn. The bells tolled, announcing that now was the time to make this commitment before God and those gathered witnesses. Around her, the scent of flowers, pine, and damp stone mingled in the air. Somehow, her feet dared disobey her. They could not move.
“Of course, you’ll say that, Daniel,” she jested. “You are my brother, after all.”
He smiled, then, looking both tired and fond. Perhaps even a little sad. “It’s the truth, though, Daphne. Also do remember that whatever happens after today, you are still my sister. You can come to me when you need me.”
“I know,” she whispered, nodding.
“I am serious, Daphne. Listen hard. You will always have me when you need me,” he said earnestly.
Again, the look of guilt passed over his face. Apparently, there were things that he could not forgive himself about his conduct and were still bothering him.
“You’ve done enough. You’ve done so much,” she reassured him. They embraced, as if trying to hold on to that moment before she finally promised to be the Duke’s wife until death parted them.
“Not nearly enough,” he said, as he drew back from her. “I wish I could give you more than this. Give you what you have always dreamed of.”
“Dreams are so papery thin and flimsy, Daniel,” Daphne said softly, her heart breaking even as she attempted a smile. “This is real life. We are together, and that’s what matters.”
“Let’s make the most of today, then,” he replied, even as his eyes searched her face, perhaps searching for any resistance on her part. She willed her stubborn feet to shuffle forward so that Daniel would not misinterpret her hesitancy and image that she had changed her mind.
When she didn’t say anything to suggest she wanted out of her impending marriage, he offered his arm. Together, they ascended the church steps.
Inside, the church seemed magical in its own practical way. Candles glowed and sunlight peeked through frosty windows. There weren’t many people beyond immediate family, with the wedding meant to be a close-knit affair and not a public spectacle.
Daphne noticed the Nicholsons, with the Reverend directly grinning at her and his wife dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Her family was there, of course, for better or for worse.
Meanwhile, there were barely any people on the Duke’s side, the most notable of whom was Lord Amberwell, whom she recognized immediately.
Over the years, she had heard much gossip about the handsome lord. He was tall and blond, and his features were striking. There was a lazy grin on his face that spoke of his amusement.
Apparently, judging by his placement near the altar, Lord Amberwell was also her groom’s closest friend. Seated near him were a few men who wore black and white and could possibly be members of the Duke’s staff.
Then Daphne saw him, following the murmurs of the guests.
The Duke of Wolfcrest was already there by the altar, standing tall and straight. His dark coat and cravat made his already handsome figure even more attractive. She was struck by how much more attractive he looked than she remembered, despite having seen him just a week earlier.
Their gazes met, and in that moment, it was as if everything else, the sights and sounds within the church—disappeared. All that was left was a buzzing bubble encasing them. She had to remind herself to keep her composure. She didn’t want the papers to report that Wolfcrest had married a mad woman.
“Steady,” Daniel murmured, anchoring her with his voice. He walked slowly, edging Daphne toward her groom.
Each step toward Wolfcrest felt agonizingly slow, moving with the beating of her heart. When they finally reached the altar, Daniel took her hand and placed it in the Duke’s. Her groom bowed to acknowledge the gesture, his hand firm and steady under hers.
“Your Grace,” Daniel said.
