Chapter 5

Five

“ A re you ready to get married?” Cassandra asked, peering at Cherie underneath her veil.

Cherie, who was looking at herself in the looking glass above her vanity, just gritted her teeth. “Is a lady ever ready?” she asked grimly.

“Perhaps if she has the love match of her dreams,” Samantha said, from where she stood in the window, looking out over the London streets. “But even then, I think ladies are nervous before their weddings. After all, they are the ones that have everything to lose in a marriage.”

“You’re not helping, Sam,” Cassandra said, frowning at her old friend. “We’re trying to cheer Cherie up, not make her feel worse.”

“It’s fine,” Cherie said, sighing. “Nothing will cheer me up. She might as well be honest about the marriage state.”

At that moment, Minerva burst through the door of Cherie’s bedroom, looking distinctly ruffled. “The servants have just told me that your cook never implemented my dinner plan!” she cried. “The meal I had planned for you will now be something else entirely! I can’t imagine what has gotten into them, defying my orders like that…”

In the mirror of the vanity, Cherie and Cassandra’s eyes met, and they both stifled a smile. Minerva was the worst person at planning events that any of them had ever met, and Cassandra had specifically instructed her staff to never let her arrange anything at Vaston Manor. Apparently, the staff had done well.

Cherie sighed again. “If I weren’t getting married and leaving to live with the Duke of Wheaton, we would have been able to live here together as sisters,” she said to Cassandra. “I have never had a sister, and I was so looking forward to it.”

“Sisters can be overrated,” Cassandra said with a rueful laugh. “Although don’t tell Helen I said that.”

“I dearly love my sister,” Minerva added, “but she can be a pain. She’s so painfully shy she makes even me feel like a social butterfly!”

“It would have been nice to live together,” Cassandra said, smiling warmly at Cherie and fluffing the end of her wedding gown. “But instead, you will be living in a grand house of your own. You will have a staff to manage, and responsibilities, and a grand estate in the country of which you are the mistress. It will be wonderful, Cherie. You’ll see.”

“And then soon, you’ll have children,” Minerva said.

Cherie swallowed and then smiled tightly. “You’re right. It will be well, even if it wasn’t what I wanted.”

But inside, her heart felt heavy. She had not told her friends what the duke had told her about how theirs would be an unconventional marriage; that they would not live together as man and wife but be married only in name. She was too ashamed of having failed so completely at making the match they’d set out for when they’d decided to team up together to find each other husbands.

“It’s going to be wonderful, just you wait and see,” Cassandra said, squeezing her shoulder. “You and the duke might not love each other now, but Aidan assures me he is a good man. And you will grow to love and respect one another. That is a solid foundation for a long and happy marriage.”

Cherie thought of the coldness the duke had displayed so far and had to suppress a shudder. Instead, she forced herself to nod in agreement.

“You are right. Now, we should make haste, before I’m late to my own wedding.”

She stood, and her friends gathered around her. “Well, we did it,” Minerva said, forcing a smile. “We married another one of us! And it might not be a love match, but it is a perfectly respectable one.”

“More than respectable!” Cassandra said. “The duke is handsome, rich, and kind.”

Samantha just harrumphed , and Cherie couldn’t help but laugh.

“You each have gotten me through this difficult time, in your own unique ways,” she murmured. “And I will be grateful to you forever.”

And, holding hands with Cassandra and Minerva, Cherie made her way out the door and towards her wedding.

The wedding was a small, private affair, held at the church closest to Vaston Manor. Throughout the whole ceremony, Cherie felt as if she couldn’t breathe. It was warm inside, and her stays were tighter than she usually liked them.

That, or she was simply nervous.

Everything had proceeded so quickly. Only a week had gone by since her brother had returned from Italy and made her see reason, and now, she was standing at the altar with the Duke of Wheaton, repeating the vows back to the rector, and then he was pronouncing them husband and wife.

As the audience politely clapped, Cherie and the duke turned to look at one another. She felt sick and dizzy, and the duke looked stoney-faced. She had always found him handsome, ever since she was a little girl. He was tall and blue-eyed, with dimples when he smiled, and brown hair that was long and luxurious. But the hard look that had graced his face ever since she’d seen him outside the Carleton Inn in had rendered him less handsome. Or really, he looked the same, but the coldness in him was so off-putting that it was impossible to find him handsome.

That, or he resents me for forcing him to marry me through my foolish actions . The thought twisted her stomach with guilt, but only for a second.

If he didn’t want to be forced to marry me, he could have just said so. I was happy to release him at any moment.

However, he surprised her by taking her hand. “Now that we are married,” he murmured, “I would like for you to call me by my Christian name. Thomas.”

Cherie blinked, taken aback by the sudden and intimate request. For a moment, she felt touched, and even considered accepting his request. But then she remembered that they were married and that she would never, as long as she lived, know what it felt like to fall in love.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary, Your Grace,” she said coolly. She then removed her hand from his, turned and began to walk down the aisle. If any of the guests thought this odd, she didn’t care. The duke hurried to catch up with her and took her arm in his, but when she glanced at him, his face was once more stoney.

The wedding breakfast, at least, was delicious. This was thanks to her sister-in-law directing the cooks to ignore Lady Minerva’s instructions, and for that, she was grateful. If she couldn’t enjoy her new marriage, then she could at least enjoy eating as much good food as was humanly possible—and drinking perhaps a little bit more champagne than was strictly acceptable for a young lady.

I’m not a young lady anymore . I’m a married lady. Which means I can do whatever I want.

Thankfully, the duchess had also gone to pains to arrange the wedding breakfast table so that Cherie was seated on the opposite end of the table from her husband. She had also arranged it so that her friends were surrounding her, so for the next few hours, Cherie busied herself with talking to Cassandra, Minerva, and Samantha. She also made sure to keep motioning for the footman to refill her champagne glass. The third time this happened, she caught her husband’s eye from across the table. He was watching her, a wary look on his face, but she looked away quickly and refused to make eye contact with him for the rest of the meal.

It was only as they were digging into dessert that the wedding breakfast became truly interesting.

“Am I late?” A cool, cutting voice cut through the chatter of people, and Cherie looked up from her pudding to see a tall, thin, middle-aged man standing in the doorway of the breakfast room, a thin smile on his face. The man had blonde hair and tawny eyes, and they were fixed on her husband with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

The room grew silent at once. Most people present knew who this was. Those who didn’t looked around curiously at the dark expressions on everyone’s faces.

“Lord Rochford,” the duke said, at last, setting down his knife and fork. “You are, in fact, not invited.”

“I am aware that an invitation was not extended to me,” Lord Rochford said, smiling benignly. “But I chose to believe the snub was accidental, considering that we are family, and considering that the Duke of Wheaton is not an unforgiving man.”

Once, Cherie might have agreed with him. The Casserly she had known had been kind and funny. But the new Duke of Wheaton was as cold and unforgiving as she could imagine.

“However, if you are in an uncharitable mood,” the earl continued, his cold blue eyes flickering around the table and coming to rest on Cherie, “then I at least hoped I could appeal to the sensibilities of your new wife.”

The duke stiffened, and Cherie set down her fork and knife and gazed furiously at the earl.

“What is it I can help you with, my lord?” she asked.

“I am here hoping to beg for your forgiveness,” Rochford said, and the tension in the room became even sharper.

“You’re not in a position to make entreaties of my wife,” her husband said, his voice as cold as ice, and Cherie felt goosebumps go up her arm. She glanced covertly down the table at him. His face had remained calm and composed, but there was a cold dislike and even anger emanating from his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

“We are family,” the earl said, his eyes unmoving from Cherie’s face. “And family forgives one another.”

The Duke of Wheaton let out an astonished laugh, and everyone turned at once to look at him.

“What kind of man tries to buy a woman’s hand in marriage?” he asked Rochford, the remark sarcastic and cutting. “Is that what you consider to be proper behavior?”

The duke’s cool anger was so strong that Cherie was surprised the earl didn’t look more discomposed. She herself felt discomposed, but not out of alarm or fear. It was as if she was seeing the old Casserly, and it made her heart ache… the boy she’d known might have defended her that way.

Instead, the earl bowed low, an obsequious smile on his face. “Thomas, we are old friends as well as cousins, and I can assure you, I came here only with the best intentions. You are right, of course: it was not the correct approach to accept Mr. Norton’s offer of his cousin as a match. But it didn’t come from any place of malice. I am simply in want of a wife, and Lady Cherie is a beautiful, intelligent, and wealthy woman. I knew she would make an excellent wife and countess.”

“You will refer to her as Her Grace or not at all,” Thomas said slowly, and although his voice remained calm, there was a finality to his tone that told everyone listening he would brook no opposition. To her surprise, Cherie felt her heart leap at her husband’s defense. She didn’t fully understand why it made her feel as if her whole body were on fire, but it did.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and then the Earl of Rochford smiled again. “Of course. I apologize, Your Grace.” He bowed his head in Cherie’s direction. She did not respond. “However, as I was saying… You cannot fault me for thinking it wise to marry the duchess. I did not intend to “buy” her, as you phrase it. I merely thought it would make a good match and would have allowed her cousin Mr. Norton to fulfill his debts and keep his dignity intact.”

At the end of the table, Norton had turned the color of beetroot. “You have only brought me more indignity!” Norton cried out. “And now you lie by telling these people that I offered Her Grace to you?! I did not offer, my lord. You asked for her hand in marriage, in order to settle my debts.”

Cherie pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from gasping. So, the earl had requested her hand in marriage?! She had assumed her cousin had merely offered, out of thoughtlessness for her feelings. But knowing that the earl specifically requested the marriage changed everything. It meant he had been thinking of her as a potential bride, even before whatever card game had led to her cousin’s debt.

But why? We are barely acquainted! Why would I be his first request?

“It is no lie,” the earl said smoothly. “I am not ashamed to admit I asked for the lady’s hand. But again, it wasn’t merely to ‘buy’ her, but to allow two gentlemen to mutually benefit from a difficult situation. My intentions, I assure you all, were pure.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe that,” the duke said, raising an eyebrow. “If your intentions were pure, you would have asked the lady for her hand in marriage, or at least waited until the Duke of Vaston had returned to ask his permission to court her. Instead, you took advantage of a weak man to try and manipulate the situation to your advantage.”

If Cherie hadn’t been so angry at the sight of the Earl of Rochford, she might have found it funny her husband didn’t think twice about abusing Cousin Charles to his face as if he weren’t present.

“I am inclined to agree with Wheaton,” Aidan said, from where he sat across from his wife. “You have shown your true colors, Rochford, and you cannot be trusted.”

The Earl of Rochford’s smile finally faded, and he stared around the room with a beseeching look on his face.

“I came here to make amends,” he said at last. “And to bring a present to the newlyweds, so that I might show them that while I did once hope to marry Lady Cherie, I am happy that she has found such a perfect match with someone else.”

The earl snapped his fingers, and a servant entered after him, bearing a bottle of expensive-looking brandy. After taking it from the servant, Rochford turned to Cherie and bowed low.

“This cognac is one of the rarest and most exclusive ever produced,” he explained. He took several steps closer to her, and even though she saw both her brother and husband stiffen, neither moved. When Rochford was only a meter away, he stopped and glanced down at the bottle.

“It is considered one of the rarest bottles distilled in France, distilled with a rare combination of herbs that give it strong healing properties. Apparently Louis XIV himself believed in its restorative powers so much that he had it brought to him with every meal. As you know, I am an amateur herbalist myself, so I couldn’t help but look for a bottle on my last trip to the Cognac region. I was saving it for my medicinal purpose but thought that I should, perhaps, give it to you instead, Your Grace, to show that there is no resentment between us. And to assure you that I never would have married you without your consent.”

The earl’s expression had softened, and when he extended the bottle out to her, she reached for it automatically.

“I promise you, Your Grace, I was going to ask for your hand in marriage personally,” he said more quietly as if they were the only two people in the room. “I called upon you, the evening after I spoke to your cousin, but was told by Charles that you had run away. I assure you, if you had been present, I would have cordially asked your consent to marry you.”

But despite the softness in his expression and the kindness in his voice, Cherie still felt a chill go through her. No matter how gracious his expression or how honeyed his voice, the earl’s eyes remained unsmiling.

She clutched the bottle closer to her and nodded. “Thank you for the gift,” she said, her voice neutral.

“I trust you know the way out,” her husband said dismissively. He did not seem at all moved by the gift. “Please leave before you do any more damage here—just like you always do.”

The phrasing of this caught her attention, and Cherie suddenly wondered if there was more to her husband’s relationship with the earl than she knew. And indeed, the air between them seemed particularly tense with unspoken hatred. Every time they looked at each other, it was with daggers in their eyes.

Once again, she wondered why exactly Rochford had asked for her hand in marriage. If he was really in want of a wife, surely there were many other women he might have been able to pursue, without having to resort to bribery. If it was Thomas that he hated, why had he come after her?

Rochford straightened and looked around at everyone assembled, then plastered one of his signature cold, obsequious smiles onto his face. “Of course, Your Grace. I do not wish to intrude. I hope you will have a pleasant wedding breakfast and the beginning of your marriage. I’m sure I will see you soon.”

And he flashed her a smile that chilled her to the very bone. It wasn’t just a smile: it was a leer. And the look in his eyes seemed to say, That isn’t just a promise, it’s a threat.