Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

S t. Cuthbert's Chapel was an exquisite, intimate setting for the ceremony.

Beatrice found herself standing at the altar, everything around her a blur. The wedding had been arranged in less than a fortnight, and the whirlwind of preparations had left her feeling overwhelmed and slightly detached from reality.

Lady Bernmere and the Dowager Duchess of Newden stood proudly near the front, a comforting presence.

Beatrice's dress was a beautiful morning gown made of soft white muslin with delicate lace trimming the high neckline and long sleeves. The empire waist was adorned with a simple satin ribbon, and the skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, giving her an ethereal appearance. Her hair was styled simply, with loose curls cascading down her back.

The ceremony itself felt like a dream. She barely heard the words spoken by the vicar, her mind swirling with the enormity of what was happening. Kenneth stood beside her, looking handsome and composed in his formal dove-gray morning attire. His presence was an anchor in the whirlwind of her emotions.

As she repeated her vows, her voice was steady though her heart raced. When the ceremony concluded, and they were pronounced husband and wife, it took a moment for reality to sink in. They exchanged a brief, formal kiss, and then it was done. Beatrice was now the Duchess of Dunford.

Lady Afferton approached her, beaming. "You have done wonderfully, my dear. This match will secure our future."

Beatrice managed a polite smile though her heart felt heavy. She glanced at Kenneth, who was speaking with his friends. He caught her eye and gave her a measured look which did little to ease her tension.

Beatrice glanced at the gathered guests. Her heart swelled with gratitude when she spotted Catherine and Thomas among the crowd.

Catherine looked radiant, her hand resting gently on her growing belly. Beatrice was thankful that her dearest friend could share this moment with her, despite the challenges of her pregnancy.

Beatrice made her way to Catherine and Thomas, a genuine smile on her face.

"Catherine, you look absolutely wonderful," she said, taking her friend's hands in her own. "Motherhood suits you well."

Catherine laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Thank you, Beatrice. And you, goodness… you make such a beautiful bride."

"Thank you, my friend. I am happy you could make it."

"I wouldn't have missed my best friend's wedding for the world."

Thomas nodded in agreement, his arm wrapped protectively around his wife's waist. "Indeed, we are both so happy for you and Kenneth. It was a bit of a surprise, but still, we are happy to be here."

"Surprise indeed," Catherine whispered, eyeing Beatrice carefully.

Beatrice knew her friend could see right through her. She was actually certain that Catherine could tell that she and Kenneth were no love match at all.

"Thank you again. I do hope you can enjoy yourselves," Beatrice told them with a smile.

She exchanged a look with Catherine, trying to convey to her that it was all right, that this marriage was something she wanted. Perhaps not something her heart wished, but the best, most practical solution.

Catherine nodded at her, her eyes understanding, and Beatrice felt a tiny wash of relief.

Yet her smile faltered slightly as she caught sight of her mother standing to the side, a scowl directed at Catherine and Thomas.

She prayed that her mother would not decide to air all her grievances with her friend. Not today. Or ever, for that matter.

The wedding breakfast was held in the Dowager Duchess's dining room which was transformed into a beautiful and welcoming setting for the occasion. The long table was adorned with crisp white linens, elegant china, and gleaming silverware. Fresh flowers in delicate arrangements added splashes of color, their fragrance mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread and pastries.

The sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Beatrice took a deep breath, allowing herself to be drawn into the moment.

As the wedding breakfast came to a close, it was time for Kenneth and Beatrice to depart. The farewell was brief but warm with Lady Afferton beaming proudly and the Dowager Duchess and Lady Bernmere offering their heartfelt congratulations.

They stepped outside where their carriage awaited them. The gathered guests waved and called out their well-wishes as Kenneth helped Beatrice into the carriage.

"Duchess," Kenneth began, breaking the silence, "I hope you find Dunford Castle to your liking. It is quite different from London townhouses."

"I am sure it will be lovely," Beatrice replied, her voice soft. "I look forward to seeing it."

Kenneth's eyes glinted with a touch of cold amusement. "You may find the sea air quite bracing. It takes some getting used to."

Beatrice couldn't help but let out a small, nervous laugh, realizing too late that it sounded unnervingly like the tittering of the swooning ladies she had always disdained.

She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "I am sure it will be a welcome change."

Kenneth's smile was thin, his demeanor distant. "I hope you're prepared for the isolation. It's not exactly the bustling social scene of London."

Beatrice bristled at his tone. "I'm quite capable of handling a bit of solitude, Duke. Perhaps it will be a refreshing change from the constant scrutiny of Society."

Kenneth raised an eyebrow. "We'll see how long that sentiment lasts."

Beatrice's eyes narrowed slightly, her temper flaring. "I assure you, I'm not as fragile as you seem to think."

Kenneth's gaze hardened, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "I never said you were fragile, Duchess. But life at Dunford is not what you're accustomed to."

Beatrice's jaw tightened, the tension between them palpable. "I suppose we will both have to make adjustments then."

Kenneth nodded curtly, the coldness in his eyes a stark contrast to the warmth of the countryside around them. "Indeed."

The rest of the journey was marked by an uncomfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they drew closer to their new home. The initial excitement and nervousness had given way to a simmering tension.

As the carriage rounded a bend, Dunford Castle came into view. Beatrice's breath caught in her throat.

The castle was a magnificent structure, its ancient stone walls rising majestically against the backdrop of the sea. Turrets and battlements gave it a fairytale quality while the surrounding landscape was equally breathtaking. Manicured gardens stretched out before the castle, leading down to a private beach where the waves lapped gently against the shore.

Beatrice's eyes widened in awe, her artistic mind immediately envisioning the seascapes she could paint. The interplay of light and shadow on the water, the vibrant colors of the gardens, and the imposing yet elegant structure of the castle itself—all of it filled her with inspiration.

"It's… it's incredible," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

Kenneth glanced at her, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Welcome to Dunford Castle, Duchess."

The carriage came to a stop at the grand entrance where footmen and maids awaited to assist them. As Beatrice stepped out of the carriage, she felt excitement and apprehension. This was her new home, a place of both beauty and responsibility.

As she stepped into the grand entrance hall of Dunford Castle, she was immediately introduced to the staff. The butler, Mr. Jennings, greeted her with a respectful bow.

"Welcome to Dunford Castle, Your Grace. I am Mr. Jennings, the butler. If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Jennings," Beatrice replied, appreciating his calm and efficient demeanor.

Next, she was introduced to the housekeeper, Mrs. Whitfield, a kind-looking woman with a warm smile. "Your Grace, it is an honor to have you here. I am Mrs. Whitfield, the housekeeper. We are all at your service."

"Thank you, Mrs. Whitfield," Beatrice said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the formality of it all.

Finally, she was introduced to her new lady's maid, a young woman with a serene expression. "Your Grace, I am Anna. I will be attending to your needs."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Anna," Beatrice returned, feeling a bit more at ease with the presence of a personal maid.

Kenneth, who had remained silent during the introductions, turned abruptly and headed for the door. "I have matters to attend to," he said curtly, not even sparing her a glance. "Rest well, Duchess."

Beatrice watched him leave, a spark of irritation flaring within her. His cold behavior grated on her nerves, and she felt a pang of resentment at his abrupt departure.

"Thank you," she muttered under her breath, the words dripping with sarcasm.

Mrs. Whitfield and Anna guided her to her chambers which adjoined the Duke's. The suite was elegant and spacious with large windows offering a breathtaking view of the sea. The furnishings were rich and tasteful, exuding an air of both comfort and grandeur.

"Let us help you get settled in, Your Grace," Anna said softly, beginning to assist Beatrice in taking off her travel clothes.

Beatrice then was helped into a warm bath, the soothing water washing away the fatigue of the journey. Anna and Mrs. Whitfield worked efficiently, and soon, Beatrice was dressed in fresh, comfortable clothes.

Anna's brush moved smoothly through Beatrice's hair, the gentle strokes relaxing her. Beatrice glanced at her reflection and met Anna's eyes in the mirror. "Anna, how long have you been here at Dunford Castle?"

"Five years, Your Grace," Anna replied, her hands deftly arranging Beatrice's hair. "It is a beautiful place to serve."

"It is indeed," Beatrice agreed. "The Duke seems to have taken good care of it."

Anna smiled gently. "The castle is better than ever, thanks to him."

Beatrice's curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean by that?"

Anna hesitated then shook her head slightly. "I have spoken out of turn, Your Grace. Forgive me."

"No harm done, Anna," Beatrice assured her, sensing there was more to the story.

She decided not to press further, respecting the boundaries of their relationship.

Once her hair was done, Anna stood back. "Is there anything else you require, Your Grace?"

"No, that will be all for now, Anna. Thank you."

Anna curtsied and left the room, leaving Beatrice alone in her new chambers. She took a moment to look around, appreciating the blend of luxury and comfort. The bed was large and inviting, the fire crackled softly in the grate, and the view from the windows was simply stunning.

Mrs. Whitfield appeared in the doorway. "Your Grace, His Grace has sent word. He regrets that he cannot join you for dinner this evening due to an unforeseen problem on the estate."

Beatrice felt a renewed pang of disappointment. "Thank you. In that case, please arrange for a light supper to be brought to my room. I am quite tired after the journey."

"Of course, Your Grace. I will see to it immediately."

As Mrs. Whitfield left the room, Beatrice sat back down, her mind swirling with emotions.

The reality of her situation began to settle heavily upon her. She was alone in a vast, unfamiliar castle, married to a man she barely knew, and already faced with the daunting task of integrating herself into his life and household.

She walked over to the window, staring out at the sea. The waves crashed against the shore with a soothing rhythm, but the sense of isolation only deepened. The grandeur of the castle and the beauty of the landscape were stark contrasts to the loneliness that gripped her heart.

"Am I truly alone in this?" she whispered to herself. "Can I find my place here, or will I always feel like an outsider?"

The door opened again, and Anna returned with a tray. "Your supper, Your Grace."

Beatrice turned away from the window, forcing a smile. "Thank you, Anna."

The tray was laden with slices of cold meats, fresh bread, cheese, and a small fruit tart. The sight of it brought a sense of comfort, even if only a small one.

Anna set the tray on a small table near the fireplace. "Will there be anything else, Your Grace?"

"No, that will be all for now, Anna. Thank you for your assistance."

Anna curtsied once more and quietly left the room.

Beatrice sat down at the table, taking a small bite of the fruit tart. The sweetness lingered on her tongue, but it did little to lift her spirits.

After finishing her meal, she returned to the window, gazing out at the darkening sky. The sea was a constant reminder of change and continuity, of the ebb and flow of life. She would find her rhythm here, just as she had always done.

"Tomorrow is a new day," she whispered to herself. "And with it, a new beginning."

With that thought, she turned away from the window, deciding it was time to prepare for bed. She rang the bell, and moments later, Anna entered the room with a quiet knock.

"Your Grace, shall I assist you in preparing for bed?" Anna asked gently.

"Yes, please, Anna," Beatrice replied, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over her.

Anna moved efficiently, helping Beatrice out of her day dress and into a soft, comfortable nightgown. As she brushed out Beatrice's hair, she kept up a light chatter.

"It's a lovely evening, isn't it, Your Grace? The sea air always makes for a peaceful night's sleep. And the castle is truly magnificent. The gardens are particularly beautiful in the spring."

Beatrice was only half-listening, her mind preoccupied with the loneliness of her situation. She had not imagined she would spend her wedding night alone, and the thought weighed heavily on her heart. She found herself nodding absently to Anna's words, the maid's cheerful voice a distant comfort.

"Thank you, Anna," she said once her hair was done. "That will be all for tonight."

Anna curtsied, her eyes filled with understanding. "Good night, Your Grace. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ring for me."

Beatrice managed a small smile. "Good night, Anna."

As Anna quietly left the room, Beatrice climbed into the large, inviting bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. The softness of the linens and the gentle crackling of the fire should have been comforting, but the silence of the castle felt overwhelming.

She stared at the canopy above her, the flickering shadows dancing across the fabric.

Her thoughts drifted to the Duke once more. She remembered the sight of him shirtless in his room, the way his muscles rippled under his skin, and the hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

She recalled the way he had looked on his horse during the Pall Mall game, so confident and commanding. A warmth spread through her at the memory, and she chastised herself for thinking about him so much.

Suddenly, Lady Featherwell's words echoed in her mind.

"He'll tire of you, just like he tires of all his conquests . "

Her last thoughts were of Kenneth, of the unspoken tension and the undeniable attraction between them. She wondered if he felt the same pull, the same desire.

As sleep finally claimed her, she hoped that tomorrow would bring clarity and a chance to understand the enigmatic man she had married.