Chapter 5

"Bah!" she exclaimed loudly, a single sound of rebellion that Penelope allowed herself, throwing the veil onto the ground before her.

She never thought she would be where she was standing. Not in a million years. Nor that she would be wearing what she was wearing, a wedding gown that didn't suit her.

Just as she bent down to pick it up, she heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said, thinking it was probably Adeline, sent by her parents to see how she was getting on. As it would seem, not very well, but she was in no mood to reveal that to either of them.

Surprisingly enough, the face that peered through the open door did not belong to Adeline or anyone she knew for that matter.

"Lady Penelope?" The voice belonged to a bright-eyed young maid who lingered in the doorway until she was ushered to come in and close the door behind her. "I am Charlotte McGabe, but everyone calls me Lottie."

Penelope could see why. The nickname suited her perfectly with that aura of sweetness that seemed to radiate from her every gesture and expression. Her features were soft and gentle, framed by waves of chestnut hair that was tied back into a simple bun at the nape of her neck. With doe-like eyes that sparkled with warmth and kindness, Penelope could not help but feel slightly more at ease in her presence.

"I was sent here as your new lady's maid, Your Grace," Lottie spoke sweetly.

"I am not Your Grace, yet," Penelope reminded her with a smile.

"In an hour, you will be," Lottie pointed out. "Which is why I was sent to you, to help with anything. If you need?—"

That was the moment when Lottie noticed Penelope's gown. Although a beautiful gown in its own right, it was obviously meant for someone else. Namely, her sister. Penelope was painfully aware of that stare which revealed everything. She knew that Lottie was forming an opinion of her, and she was desperate to have it be a good one. Lottie was turning out to be a small ray of sunshine in a place that she felt would be dark otherwise.

"Yes, I uhm… I do believe I need a little help," Penelope admitted, her cheeks turning a poppy red.

"I know what we need," Lottie said as she rushed back toward the door. "I shall be right back."

Upon those words, she disappeared, leaving Penelope alone, wondering what it was she had gone to fetch. Seconds felt like hours as she waited until a knock sounded on the door again. This time, Penelope rushed to open the door instead. She found Lottie with a box in her hands. Penelope allowed her in then turned to face Lottie, who opened the box, revealing its contents. It was a needle and some pristine white thread.

"I am the youngest daughter of five," she revealed, without any judgment in her voice. "All I ever owned was passed down onto me. If I was fortunate, it belonged to only one sister before me. If not, well… four sisters, all of different height and build, can really… reshape a gown," she said, chuckling, and Penelope was unable to resist joining in.

As they stopped laughing, Lottie gently took her by the hand and led her back in front of the looking glass, positioning her in the right place.

"You just stand here, Your Grace," Lottie spoke tenderly and with utter reassurance. "We shall have this gown reshaped in a way to fit you in no time. Just… don't move."

"I will not," Penelope assured as she watched Lottie swarm around her frame, grabbing a handful of fabric from one side and the other, pinning it where needed then sewing it in place, tightening and loosening in all the right places.

Penelope had no idea how long it all took, but it could not have been more than perhaps fifteen minutes later when Lottie pulled away again. Her eyes inspected the gown judiciously, looking at every nook, every crease.

"Lift your arms high up into the air, please," Lottie instructed.

Penelope, still with a smile, did exactly as she was told. Lottie continued to swarm around her, like a bee swarmed around a most beautiful flower, until she was finally satisfied with the result.

"Well, I do believe that is that," Lottie grinned, taking a step away.

Penelope lowered her arms, glancing at herself in the looking glass. Lottie had indeed done a marvelous job. The gown now fit her perfectly with only those few, last-minute adjustments. She realized how easily her mother could have arranged for that as well, if only she had wanted to. But as it was the case with everything in life, it was all a matter of wanting or not wanting.

The room was still silent, save for the soft rustle of fabric and the hushed beating of her heart, a steady rhythm of anticipation and apprehension. Lottie's appearance was the first sign that things might not be all that dark, that she could find light around her if only she knew where to look.

She turned to Lottie. "I… I don't know how to thank you…"

"Oh, it's nothing, really…" Lottie seemed taken aback by this sudden and unexpected outburst of emotion. "I am, as always, happy to be of service to you, Your Grace."

Penelope took Lottie's hand into her own. "I am so happy you are to be my lady's maid, Lottie. Truly."

Lottie nodded with a smile. "I am as well, Your Grace." She looked to the side, noticing the veil on the ground. "Now, how about we put the last touches on and send you out there looking breathtaking?"

For the first time ever, Penelope liked that idea.

* * *

James stood at the small, makeshift altar created just for this occasion — the occasion of his wedding. He wanted it to be a small ceremony. After all, it was not like he had many people to invite who would gladly attend. But Penelope's father insisted on adding his own list to James', and that filled the entire grand ballroom of his manor house with people. He suspected that many were there out of mere curiosity. He tried not to let it affect him.

Anticipation coursed through him like a current, his heart thrumming with a mixture of excitement and nerves. His gaze fixated on the entrance where Penelope would make her grand entrance.

And then, she appeared.

With each graceful step she took down the aisle, his breath caught in his throat. She was a vision of beauty, her form draped in an exquisite gown that seemed to shimmer in the soft candlelight. Her eyes sparkled with a quiet determination, her lips curved into a gentle smile that spoke of both strength and grace.

He had to admire her courage. If anyone had taken one look at her, they would have thought that she was the happiest bride in the world. He knew that made her dangerous. He might not be able to read her mind, and therefore, he might not know what she was thinking. However, he could not ponder on that right now. He was absolutely captivated by her. As she drew nearer, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away, completely entranced by her presence.

He tried to remind himself why he was marrying her. It was not to fall for her. That would be dangerous, far too dangerous. All he wanted from her was an heir. Then, they would both be able to lead their lives separately if they wished. It would not be the first time that a duke and a duchess would live in separate abodes in a city, or even two different cities, only writing to each other occasionally. But the thought of not having her near at that moment drove him mad with jealousy that she might bestow her affections unto some other man.

He swallowed heavily as she approached him and placed her hand softly into his.

"You look… beautiful," he leaned closer to whisper, feeling strangely awkward. Why was it so difficult to give her a simple compliment?

"Thank you," she replied, managing a little smile.

She was still smiling as he clasped her hand with his, but he immediately noticed the rigidity of her body. He understood because he was the same. They were putting on a show for everyone, and he hated it. He sensed that she hated it as much as he did. He would rather have had a small wedding, attended only by close friends and family of which he had so few.

Together, they turned toward the minister. He spoke of love and bonds that tied two people in this world and the next as the ceremony proceeded with solemnity and reverence. They exchanged vows that bound them together in love and devotion. Their words echoed through the hall, filling the space with promises of fidelity and support, of shared dreams and shared sorrows.

As he held her trembling fingers, he slowly slid the ring onto one. It was a perfect fit. She proceeded to do the same, lifting her long eyelashes to him.

"…kiss the bride…"

That was all James heard, and he did not need to hear it twice. His body seemed to take over, and he gently took her into his arms, pressing his lips onto hers, completely drowning out the fact that they were not alone, that what felt like a thousand eyes were on them, curiously watching everything they did. The kiss was quick and chaste as he reluctantly released her, and an avalanche of applause followed suit.

What came after was an onslaught of well-wishers, congratulating them both. He knew that was something he needed to endure, so he shook hands, kissed cheeks, and smiled without listening to a single word anyone was saying. The only thing he was aware of was that Penelope was by his side, radiant and innocent. In her naivety, she was completely unaware of the tumultuous desires that raged within him, threatening to consume him whole.

For a fleeting moment, between shakings two different hands, he entertained the idea of ravishing her that very night, of claiming her as his own in a primal display of dominance. But he reminded himself why he was entering into this union in the first place. He forced himself to suppress the primal urges that surged within him, steeling his resolve.

Nothing should change.

Everything would remain as it was and as it should be.