“What did he say?” Florentia asked, turning back to face the mirror. “Did he mention me?”
“Not to me, he did not,” she said.
“Did he appear excited? Did he ask if I was?”
“Why would he?”
What a silly question. To wonder if my husband was looking forward to marrying me! How foolish of me to wonder at such a notion as that.
It had been two weeks now since the duke had arrived at her home and requested her hand in marriage. Two weeks spent wondering, even hoping, that he might call on her again, to see how she was doing, to send word that he was thinking of her and could not wait for them to be joined as man and wife. Two weeks and...and nothing.
And it was not that Florentia expected him to fawn over her. She was aware of the assumed expectations for those of her station, and few married out of love. But she could not escape the reality that she knew nothing about her husband, and she feared thislack of knowing who he was and what he wanted out of her would lead to inevitable doom.
How could she start a family with a man who, for all she knew, did not want one to begin with?
“I might have liked to have spoken with him again,” Florentia said, caring not for her hair or her dress or her make-up. “Even just for a moment, it might have been nice.”
“There will be plenty of time for that later, dear. Your entire life, might I remind you.”
“Yes, well, as to that. My entire life, I mean...” She clicked her tongue with frustration. “What kind of life will it be if I find myself saddled with a husband who wants nothing to do with me?”
“Florentia...” Her mother sighed. “As you well know, this arraignment is nowhere near as odd as you seem to think.”
“I did not say it was odd,” Florentia countered. “I am simply expressing my concern for a marriage in which I do not know the first thing about my husband. You and Father have raised me well, Mother, I do not deny that. But in this raising, you have taught me that as a wife I am expected to start a family—I wish for this more than anything.”
“And a family you will have.”
“Will I? Has the duke told you that? Has he given any indication whatsoever?”
“Florentia...” Her mother sighed again. “All I ask is that you trust your father and I. Do you really think we would agree to this marriage if we did not think it to be in your best interest? Have a little faith, dear.”
She wanted to. Oh, how she did. Her fear was that in her mother’s desperation to see her wed, and to a duke no less, that she might have forgotten what mattered most. Or rather, chosen to overlook certain expectations because in her mind this was Florentia’s last chance to find a husband, which was the ultimate goal for any lady of the ton.
“You are right,” Florentia admitted. “I am sorry.”
“Never mind that.” Her mother took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at her reflection. “What we must concern ourselves with is the task at hand. In a few minutes, you will enter the chapel, and His Grace will get his first real good look at you—an impression which will stick in his mind and remind him why he chose you. Why he did not hesitate. You wish for this to be a happy marriage? A successful one? It starts right here. Believe you me.”
Florentia rolled her eyes at her mother’s romantics, even if she did feel herself flushing beneath her makeup because the thought of the duke seeing her looking her best, of being taken by her beauty, was perhaps more appealing than she was willing to concede.
And she did look beautiful, too. Of that, there could be no argument. Her gown was a two-tiered yellow number; the billowing skirt a light sun blossom, the girdle a dark canary. It was a modest piece with long sleeves and a high neckline, little skin shown, and the floral patterning stitched with sparkling silver was truly wondrous. Pairing this with her silver and sapphire jewelry, and makeup worn to bring out the color in her cheeks and blue eyes, and she was in every way a sight that would make heads turn and jaws drop.
“Beautiful,” her mother crooned, sniffing and wiping her nose as tears began to well.
“I am,” Florentia said, her skin tingling and her heart racing because even she could not deny the effect this would surely have. “Let us see the duke ignore me now.”
As things turned out, she had spoken much too soon.
Florentia made her way to the chapel, appearing at the end of the aisle, pausing when she reached her mark so those in the chapel could turn and see her. There were gasps, approving whispers and wide eyes; many were nodding their heads and smiling eagerly. Naturally, Florentia had eyes only for her husband, eager to see his reaction...
He looked upon her with a straight face. She had no sense that he was pleased to see her. He gave no indication that he was excited. And he didn’t so much as smirk or smile or breathe a sigh of relief as if not sure that he had made the right choice untilright now. It was a simple gaze, at which point he turned back to face the front when the music started to signal her approach.
It didn’t help that Florentia’s heart began to race at the sight of him. He was exactly as she remembered. Talk, dark and brooding. Ruggedly handsome. A powerful force of nature which demanded attention. She very nearly tripped when she started down the aisle, and she had to work not to scowl with anger at his less than enthusiastic response.
Things proceeded from there with typical formality.
Florentia reached her soon-to-be husband and stood beside him. The two faced the pastor who conducted the ceremony without theatre, reading the vows, having them say the words to announce themselves as man and wife, and then taking one another’s hand without sealing the union with a kiss.
His hand was large around her own. The feel of his paw encasing hers might have sent her heart racing, was it not so cold and dispassionate. And it wasn’t that the duke seemed to not care about her, or to be upset with her, or as if he was having second thoughts. It was just so sterile; a business transaction was how it felt. Certainly, as far removed from romantic as one might hope.
