Page 82 of To Ensnare a Duke

"Do not be alarmed. My husband-to-be is a kind man who wishes us many decades of happiness." The sighs as they titter around the room tell me my ruse has been believed.

With a false smile, I toss the letter into the fire and watch it burn. The necklace is truly stunning, a mass of silver chains and odd links. Handing it to my aunt, I sit back down at the mirror and watch with a watery smile as she clasps it behind.

"You make a stunning bride, my dear. I only regret that my brother and your mother cannot be here to see it. I'm sure they're watching from heaven and smiling down on this union."

Unable to speak, I merely nod and dab at my eyes. There's not a dry face in the entire room, which makes it far easier to hide my tears amongst theirs.

"I also regret that Greyson is not in attendance. I do hope he's all right."

"Your brother is made of the sternest stuff in all creation," Aunt Amelia says, her smile growing wider. "He is, no doubt, right as rain."

The church is indeed beautiful, a festoon of greens and whites. Flowers, vines, and bushes decorate every square inch, turning it into something akin to a fairytale. In all rights, it should be a fairytale. Unfortunately, it seems to be my greatest nightmare.

The Duke of Whiteport stands next to me, ready to escort me down the aisle in my brother's stead. Nothing about this is right or correct. It should be Greyson next to me.

In hindsight, I probably should have thought of that before trapping the duke… But then, if Greyson were home, it would probably have been a bit harder to do. I look up at Whiteport, noting the grim thin line of his lips.

"You think me a monster, don't you?"

He looks down at me, his expression softening a touch. "It matters not what I think. I am not the one marrying you."

I'm sure he meant his words to be reassuring, but all they do is hurt all the more. "I understand."

With a soft sigh, he coaxes me to look at him. "I am not privy to everything between the two of you, but I do know you drive the man to distraction. No one else has ever managed such a feat."

I should be elated at his words, but all it does is highlight just how badly I've ruined everything. Looking back at the entrance I'm to walk through, I force myself to keep a bright smile. It will only make things worse if people think I was forced, kicking and screaming, to walk toward my groom.

As we prepare to step forward, a loud clatter startles Whiteport and me. He whirls about, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword. Dread threads through me for a moment until a familiar face appears.

"I believe it is my duty to walk my sister down the aisle. As grateful as I am, I'd like to take my post."

Whiteport grins at my brother and pats him on the shoulder. "I shall leave you to it."

Greyson gazes down at me, his expression unreadable. "Are you happy?"

"O- of course I am. How can you ask such a question?"

His eyes narrow as he searches my face. "Do not lie to me, little sister. Your happiness is paramount to me."

"I- I fear I've made a bit of a mess of things, but I know Portswell will make me happy. "

"He better," he grinds out, offering me his arm. "If the man knows what's good for him, he better."

The music swells, cutting off the rest of our conversation. But truly, what else is there to say? My heart pounds in my chest as he takes me forward, forcing me down the aisle one step at a time.

Portswell stands there, waiting for me, his lips pressed in a thin line. He doesn't look angry, but he doesn't seem happy either. When Greyson hands me over to him, I can't help but feel a tendril of fear for the first time.

What if this doesn't work out? What if he continues to despise me? What if…

My mind goes in circles, refusing to stop as I repeat my vows. Glancing over at those attending, I watch as the ladies shift about in the pews, their expressions rather uncomfortable. It gnaws at me to know I had a hand in their discomfort.

If only I had said no. But then, there would probably be some other misfortune to blacken this day. The only reprieve would be that the burden would be mine to bear and mine alone.

"I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Portswell leans forward and pulls me closer to him. His hot breath scalds my skin as he closes the gap between us. Closing my eyes, I sigh, happy to have him touching me again. But his lips merely brush my skin as he grazes our lips together in a chaste kiss and pulls back.

Though the others cheer, my heart cracks in two. Gone is the heated passion that blazed between us like a fire that refused to be doused. He greets me almost as if we were family. His little sister.