Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

" O h, Adeline," Isabella breathed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she adjusted her sister's veil. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

Adeline managed a small smile, her own eyes misting over as she gazed at her younger sister. "Thank you, Bella. I can hardly believe this is happening."

The two sisters stood before a large mirror in the antechamber of the family chapel, a moment of quiet amidst the whirlwind of wedding preparations. Adeline's gown, a confection of ivory silk and delicate lace, seemed to glow in the soft light filtering through the stained-glass windows.

Isabella took her sister's hands in hers, squeezing gently. "Are you nervous?"

Adeline let out a shaky breath. "Terrified," she admitted. "It's all happened so fast, Bella. A fortnight ago, I was resigned to spinsterhood and exile in Scotland. And now…"

"And now you're to be a duchess!" Isabella finished, a hint of awe in her voice. "It's like something out of a fairytale."

"A rather strange fairytale," Adeline murmured, her hand unconsciously rising to touch her scarred cheek.

Isabella caught the gesture and frowned. "None of that," she said firmly. "You are beautiful, Adeline. Scars and all. And if the Duke can't see that, then he doesn't deserve you."

Adeline felt a lump form in her throat at her sister's fierce loyalty. Although her heart felt warm by her sister's words, she knew that her upcoming wedding was nothing but a means to an end—a cover-up for a damning scandal. The Duke would have never even considered her as a potential bride otherwise.

But even as she told herself that, a traitorous part of her mind couldn't help but drift back to the scavenger hunt—the way his lips had claimed hers. The raw heat of that kiss had startled her, had awakened something deep inside, something that made her pulse quicken every time she thought of him. His hands had lingered on her waist, his breath warm against her neck, and she had felt it—his hunger, his need.

She shivered at the memory, her body betraying her calm exterior. For all her reasoning, for all her attempts to dismiss this marriage as nothing but convenience, her body remembered differently. The way Edmund had looked at her, touched her—it made her question everything.

And yet, she reminded herself firmly, that's all this was. A cover-up.

"Oh, Bella. What am I going to do without you?" she could only reply.

"You'll be fine," Isabella assured her, though her voice wavered slightly. "You're the bravest person I know, Adeline. And I'll visit so often, you'll be sick of me."

The sisters shared a watery laugh, clinging to each other for a moment longer.

"I wish Mama were here," Adeline whispered, voicing the thought that had been haunting her all morning.

Isabella's arms tightened around her. "She is," she said softly. "In here." She placed a hand over her sister's heart. "And she would be so proud of you, Adeline. Just as I am."

A knock at the door interrupted their moment.

"Girls?" Lord Brenton's voice called. "It's time."

The sisters exchanged one last look, a lifetime of shared experiences passing between them in that glance. Then, with a deep breath, Adeline squared her shoulders and turned to face the door.

Lord Brenton entered, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of his eldest daughter. For a moment, Adeline thought she saw a flicker of emotion cross his usually stern features.

Adeline linked her arm through her father's as they stepped out of the small antechamber, the soft echo of their footsteps filling the quiet corridor.

The weight of her dress seemed to pull her down with each step, the silken fabric whispering against the stone floors as they moved toward the chapel.

The scent of fresh flowers from the garlands lining the walls mingled with the faint mustiness of the old stone, creating a strangely bittersweet contrast.

She forced herself to focus on her breathing, trying to calm the anxious flutter in her chest.

Her heart raced faster with each step, not from excitement, but from the magnitude of what lay ahead.

As the doors of the chapel loomed nearer, the reality of her impending marriage pressed down on her like a heavy mantle.

Her mind flickered back to the Duke's kiss, to the heat it stirred in her, but she quickly pushed the memory aside. This wasn't about desire; this was about duty. And she would perform it—no matter how tightly her chest seemed to constrict with every passing second.

"Remember, Adeline, you carry the Follett name with you, even as you take on the title of Duchess," Lord Brenton murmured, his voice low and urgent as they stood before the heavy oak doors of the family chapel. "Your actions will reflect not only on your new husband but on all of us. Do not forget that."

Adeline swallowed hard, her gloved hands tightening on the bouquet of white roses and orange blossoms she clutched before her.

"Yes, Father," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft strains of music drifting from within the chapel.

It had been a fortnight since that fateful day at Lady Alderton's garden party. A fortnight of rushed preparations, hushed conversations, and sleepless nights filled with anticipation and dread.

Now, standing on the threshold of her new life, Adeline felt as though she were in a dream—or perhaps a fever-induced hallucination.

The family chapel, a quaint stone building that had stood on the Follett estate for generations, had been transformed for the occasion. White ribbons adorned the end of each pew, their long tails fluttering gently in the breeze coming through the open doors. The air was heavy with the scent of lilies and roses, great swags of greenery and blooms draping every available surface.

Adeline took a deep breath, inhaling the heady perfume. She caught a whiff of beeswax from the dozens of candles illuminating the space, their warm glow lending a soft, ethereal quality to the scene. It was beautiful, perfect—everything a young lady might dream of for her wedding day.

And yet, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was an actress in a play, reciting lines she hadn't fully memorized.

"Stand straight, my dear," her father admonished, his hand tightening on her arm. "A duchess must always carry herself with dignity and grace."

Adeline nodded mutely, straightening her spine despite the weight of her elaborate gown. Her honey-brown hair had been coaxed into an intricate arrangement of curls and braids, secured with pearl-tipped pins and crowned with a delicate tiara—a loan from the Pemberton family vault, she'd been told. A gossamer-thin veil cascaded down her back, the ethereal fabric seeming to float in the air behind her.

As the music swelled, signaling the start of the procession, Lord Brenton turned to face his daughter fully. His eyes, usually so stern and unyielding, held a hint of something she couldn't quite name—pride, perhaps, or a touch of wistfulness.

"Adeline," he said, his voice softening slightly. "You look… you look very fine, my dear. Your mother would have been proud to see you today."

The unexpected praise, coupled with the rare mention of her mother, made a lump form in Adeline's throat. She blinked rapidly, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. The last thing she needed was to walk down the aisle with red, puffy eyes.

"Thank you, Father," she managed, offering him a tremulous smile.

Lord Brenton nodded brusquely, his moment of sentimentality passing as quickly as it had come. "Now, remember what I said. You're to be a duchess, Adeline. The eyes of the ton will be upon you. You must comport yourself with the utmost propriety at all times. No more… incidents, like the one at Lady Alderton's party. Do you understand?"

Adeline felt heat rise to her cheeks at the memory. "Yes, Father. I understand."

"Good," he said, patting her hand awkwardly. "Well then, I suppose we shouldn't keep the Duke waiting any longer. Are you ready?"

Ready? Adeline almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. How could one ever be truly ready for such a monumental change? In the space of a few short weeks, she had gone from a resigned spinster to becoming the wife of one of England's most eligible bachelors. It was all happening so fast, like a whirlwind that had swept her off her feet and deposited her here, on the threshold of a new life.

But there was no time for second thoughts now. The music had changed, signaling their cue to enter.

With a deep breath, Adeline nodded to her father. "I'm ready," she said, surprised by the steadiness of her voice.

As the doors swung open, revealing the intimate gathering of a select few nobles, Adeline felt a curious calm settle over her. Whatever came next, there was no going back now. For better or worse, her fate was tied to Edmund's—to the Duke of Holbrook's.

She caught a glimpse of him standing at the altar, his broad shoulders and commanding presence unmistakable even from a distance. For a moment, their eyes met, and Adeline felt a jolt of… something. Fear? Excitement? She couldn't be sure.

But as she took her first step down the aisle, her father's arm steady beneath her hand, she silently made a vow to herself. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever Society might throw at her, she would face it all with the grace and dignity befitting her new station.

She was about to become the Duchess of Holbrook, and she would do everything in her power to make her family—both old and new—proud.

With her chin held high and her steps measured and graceful, Adeline began her journey towards her future, the whispers and gasps of the assembled guests fading into the background as she focused on the man waiting for her at the altar.

The wedding breakfast was a lavish affair, held in the grand ballroom of the Folletts' townhouse. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, their light glancing off the fine China and silverware adorning the long tables. The air was filled with the hum of conversation and the clink of champagne glasses, a veneer of gaiety overlaying the undercurrent of gossip and speculation.

Adeline sat at the head table beside Edmund, acutely aware of the distance between them despite their physical proximity. Throughout the meal, he barely glanced in her direction, his attention seemingly focused on his plate or on making polite conversation with those seated nearby.

His indifference stung more than Adeline cared to admit. She found herself wondering if he truly found her so appalling that he couldn't bear to look at her, even on their wedding day. The thought sent a fresh wave of insecurity through her.

Her discomfort was only heightened by the steady stream of well-wishers approaching to offer their congratulations. Many of their comments, while outwardly polite, carried a sharp edge that she couldn't help but notice.

"My dear Lady Adeline—or should I say, Your Grace," simpered Lady Beatrice Forsyth, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "What a surprising wedding. Who would have thought, after all this time, that you would make such an advantageous match?"

Adeline forced a smile, even as she felt the barb sink deep. "Thank you, Lady Beatrice. The Duke and I are very happy."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Lady Beatrice replied, her tone sugary sweet. "And how fortunate for your sister. I'm certain having a duchess for a sister will do wonders for her prospects when she comes out."

Before Adeline could formulate a response, Edmund finally turned his attention to their guest.

"Indeed, Lady Beatrice," he said, his voice cool. "Though I daresay Lady Isabella's charms will be more than sufficient to secure her future. Now, if you'll excuse us."

As Lady Beatrice moved away, Adeline shot Edmund a grateful look. But he had already turned back to his conversation with Lord Rutherford, leaving her feeling more alone than ever.

As the wedding breakfast began to wind down, Adeline saw their grandmothers approaching, both women beaming with satisfaction.

"My dears!" Lady Alderton exclaimed, embracing Edmund and then Adeline. "What a beautiful ceremony. Everything went off perfectly, didn't it, Miriam?"

Lady Gillingham nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes, absolutely splendid. You both looked magnificent. And now, to think of the future…" she trailed off, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Edmund's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Yes, I'm sure you're both very pleased with yourselves," he said, his tone sardonic. "I don't suppose this little scheme has been in the works for long?"

"Edmund," Lady Alderton chided gently, though her smile never wavered. "Don't be ridiculous. We merely provided the opportunity for you two to get to know each other better. Everything else was entirely up to you."

"Indeed," Lady Gillingham agreed. "And now that you have, we can only hope that you'll waste no time in providing us with some great-grandchildren to spoil."

Adeline felt heat rise to her cheeks at the implication. She glanced at Edmund, but his expression remained impassive.

"We'll certainly take that into consideration," he muttered dryly. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I believe it's time we prepared for our departure."

As they made their way through the crowd of well-wishers, Adeline caught sight of Isabella. Her sister's eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she managed a brave smile as Adeline approached.

"Oh, Bella," Adeline said softly, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself. And write to me often, won't you?"

Isabella hugged her back fiercely. "Of course, I will. But it's not really goodbye, is it? After all, you'll be much closer now than if you'd gone to Scotland. We can visit each other often."

Adeline nodded, blinking back her own tears. "You're right, of course. Still, I'll miss you terribly."

Her farewell to her father was far less emotional.

Lord Brenton shook Edmund's hand formally, then turned to Adeline with a stiff nod. "Remember what we discussed," he said, his voice low. "Comport yourself with dignity, and do your duty to your new family."

"Yes, Father," Adeline replied, dipping into a small curtsy. "Thank you for everything."

At last, it was time to depart.

As the newlyweds settled into the luxurious carriage that would carry them to Holbrook Manor, an awkward silence fell between them.

Unable to bear the tension, Adeline decided to make an attempt at conversation.

"The ceremony was lovely, wasn't it?" she ventured. "And the breakfast… Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves."

Edmund merely grunted in response, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the carriage window.

Undeterred, Adeline pressed on. "I… I wanted to thank you for what you said to Lady Beatrice. It was very kind of you to defend Isabella like that."

That, at last, elicited a response.

"There's no need to thank me," Edmund said, his tone brusque. "It was the truth. And I won't have anyone insulting my family, even indirectly."

"Your family," Adeline repeated softly. "I suppose that includes me now, doesn't it?"

Edmund's eyes finally met hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something in their gray depths. But then it was gone, replaced by the now-familiar coolness.

"Yes, I suppose it does," he said. "Though I hope you don't expect some grand romance. Ours is a marriage of convenience, nothing more."

The words stung, even though Adeline had been half-expecting them. She thought back to that heated moment in the stables, the passion of their kiss. But clearly, that had meant nothing to Edmund—a mere moment of weakness, forgotten as soon as it was over.

"Of course," she uttered, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I understand perfectly, Your Grace. You needn't worry about any unwanted attention from me."

Edmund's brow furrowed slightly, as though her words had surprised him. "I didn't mean to imply?—"

"No, you were quite clear," Adeline interrupted, a spark of defiance igniting in her chest. "A marriage of convenience. Nothing more. Tell me, Your Grace, do you plan to itemize our interactions? Perhaps we could draw up a schedule for meals and social appearances."

Edmund's jaw tightened. "There's no need for sarcasm, Duchess."

"Isn't there?" Adeline challenged, her green eyes flashing. "I thought we were discussing the terms of our arrangement. Shall we negotiate how often we're to exchange pleasantries in the corridors?"

"This isn't a joke, Adeline," Edmund growled, leaning forward.

"Oh, I'm well aware," she retorted. "But if we're to maintain this farce of a marriage, we should at least agree on the particulars. How many times am I allowed to smile at you in public before it becomes too romantic?"

Before Edmund could respond, the carriage hit a particularly deep rut in the road, jostling them both.

The sudden jolt sent Adeline careening forward. Edmund's hands shot out instinctively, catching her by the waist to steady her.

"Whoa!"

For a moment, they froze, their faces mere inches apart, Adeline's hands braced against Edmund's broad chest.

Time seemed to stand still as their eyes met. Adeline's breath caught in her throat as the flecks of gold in his stormy gray eyes seemed to glow. His hands, warm and strong on her waist, sent a shiver of awareness through her body.

Edmund's gaze dropped to her lips, and she felt her heart race. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? The air between them seemed to crackle with tension, thick with unspoken desires and fears.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Edmund leaned in. Adeline's eyes fluttered shut, her body swaying towards him of its own accord. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek, the slight tremors in his hands as they tightened on her waist.

Just as their lips were about to meet, the carriage wheel hit another bump, jolting them back to reality. Adeline's eyes flew open as Edmund abruptly released her, both of them retreating to opposite sides of the carriage.

"I apologize, Your Grace," Adeline stammered, smoothing down her skirts with trembling hands. "How clumsy of me."

"Not at all," Edmund replied, his voice rougher than usual. He cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. "These country roads can be treacherous. I should have warned you."

As they settled back into their seats, the awkward silence descended once more. Adeline turned her gaze to the window, watching as the London streets and buildings gave way to the lush countryside beyond.

She was a duchess now, married to one of the most sought-after men in England. She should have been ecstatic.

Instead, as the miles rolled by and Holbrook Manor drew closer, Adeline couldn't shake the feeling that she was heading not to a bright new future, but to a gilded cage of her own making.