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CHAPTERSEVEN
“There is a message for you, Miss,” Lizbeth said, bringing the letter to Edwina as she sat in front of the dressing table.
Edwina reached out to take it, her hands shaking. Even though she still felt resolved to proceed with the wedding, nerves took hold of her. She unfolded the letter, which only contained a few lines, and read it quickly.
“His Grace has acquired a dress for me to wear today,” Edwina explained to Lizbeth. “Not even married, and he is trying to control me.”
“Control?” Lizbeth asked in surprise. “Sounds like a gift to me. Should I give you a simpler dress to wear this morning?”
“No, I shall wear the lavender as I planned,” Edwina replied, casting the letter aside.
Lizbeth dipped her head in understanding, turning to pick up the dress in question. Edwina sat in silence as Lizbeth curled her hair and pinned it up away from her neck. Breathing deeply, she tried to steady her hands and the butterflies in her stomach. She feared the unknown, what lay before her in her duties as a wife and as a duchess, but not her future husband.
Once she had her dress and shoes on, she faced Lizbeth, saying, “I am happy that you are coming with me. I could not do this without you.”
“You are very brave,” Lizbeth said, patting her face. “I shall help you through all of this.”
Edwina took a deep breath, unable to delay the inevitable any further. “Has the carriage been brought around?”
Soon, Edwina climbed into the carriage alone, heading to Hillow House. When she arrived, the staff stood on the front steps, waiting for her. The Duke stood in the center of the steps, hands folded in front of him, her father and a vicar by his side. She gasped in surprise to see her father again, and she quickly stepped out of the carriage, barely able to restrain herself. She sprang forward and threw her arms around her father, ignoring the Duke and the staff. He held her tightly in his arms.
“Shh, shh, it is all right now; it is all right,” he whispered to her, patting her back. “Are you sure you want to go through with all of this?”
She backed away from him, trying not to cry. Nodding resolutely, she whispered, “No, I gave my word. It will be all right.” Remembering herself, she stepped away from her father and turned to the Duke. He regarded her coolly, his face impassive.
“Your Grace,” she said, dropping into a curtsey. He took her hand and kissed it, his lips not even touching the back of her hand. Yet, his fingers were warm in hers. She looked up into his eyes, bright blue as the sky behind him. Around the corners of his eyes, she could see the mottled wrinkles of scarring.
“Miss Haverton,” he said. He quickly took in her dress. “I got a wedding dress for you if you would like to change before we speak our vows.”
“I am happy to wear what I have, Your Grace,” she said, dipping her head again. “Perhaps we can get to the vows straight away?”
He frowned but nodded, taking her hand and placing it on his arm. He led her into the house, her father and the staff following behind. They continued into the ballroom that was large and sparse. The vicar turned to face them.
“Not a minute to waste, eh?” he asked.
Edwina looked around. Her father and the staff were the only people present. She looked down, feeling a rush of sadness. She rarely dreamed of her wedding, but she could not have imagined anything like this. She thought she would at least have friends to attend, or that her future husband might have a large family. If nothing else, members of society might come that wanted to gossip about her wedding.
Instead, she stood before her soon-to-be husband, taking his hand, in a great empty room. As they spoke their vows, their voices echoed off the barren walls. She felt no joy, no happiness. She had to imagine that the staff felt happy for them, happy to have a lady in the house once again. It was the only comfort to her.
The ring the Duke slipped over her finger weighed her hand down, the stone in the center bigger than she had ever seen. When she slipped his ring over his finger, she stared down at his fingers, letting hers linger against his skin. She looked up to meet his eyes, but he quickly took his hand away from her.
“Go on, then, kiss your bride,” the vicar instructed. The Duke shuffled slightly, but Edwina looked up at him expectantly.
“Your Grace?” she whispered. He bent down, a great distance for his height, and pressed his lips gently against hers. The kiss felt so chaste, so simple, that she felt disappointed. She had hoped that the kiss would relay the same passion he had shown her at their first meeting. Instead, his lips felt cold and unfeeling.
As soon as the vicar sent them forward as man and wife, the Duke took her hand and placed it on his arm, leading her out of the room. She kept her eyes downcast, trying to hide her sadness. The Duke led them without a word into the breakfast parlor where brunch had been laid out with cakes and tea. The Duke himself pulled her chair out for her. When her father sat down and Edwina looked around the table, she blinked back tears.
“My dear,” Father breathed, taking her hand.
“I am fine,” she quickly assured him, forcing a smile. She had always been taught to make polite conversation with guests, even when the company was lacking. She felt that she had to treat her husband the same, so she turned to the Duke. “What a wonderful array of delights, Your Grace; you might spoil me.”
Fergus smiled tightly at her. “Thank you. We have excellent staff on hand. I am sure you will want to meet them shortly and take over your role as duchess.”
“Certainly,” she quickly agreed, casting a glance at the footmen around the room. Even though she received a thorough education on manners, etiquette, and how to run a simple household, she never expected to be so quickly thrust into such responsibility.
“I am sure there is no need to rush such things,” Father chimed in. “Surely, there should be some sort of honeymoon?”
Edwina looked at the Duke with wide eyes. He met her gaze but frowned. “I made no plans for travel; I thought perhaps our time would be better served here.”
