Chapter 4
CHAPTER4
“Lady Rachel, this has arrived for you.” The butler handed Rachel the letter.
She looked up from the card game she, Emily and Bridget had been playing to see the butler and the letter. “Thank you.”
She took it from him with a smile but made no effort to open it. As the door closed behind him, she laid it down on the game table, no longer interested in her hand of cards, which she put to the side.
Bridget sat forward with eagerness, trying to read the address on the letter, and Emily smiled broadly. Rachel felt a longing to know her father’s opinion about such letters, but Edward had spent little time in the room with them as of late. Every time she had seen him, he had said he was working hard. She suspected he was throwing himself into his work so that he did not have to think about her scandal.
“Are you not going to open it?” Bridget asked softly. “It must be from the Duke of Elbridge. Well, he has fine handwriting.” She patted Rachel’s wrist.
“Yes, and good handwriting is the mark of good character,” Rachel whispered wryly, slumping in her chair.
“He is a handsome man,” Emily said, rearranging her cards.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, you must have seen it. One must be blind not to.” Emily laughed joyfully. “Let’s face it, Rachel, of all the men to be hurried into marriage with, a handsome duke, and war hero, is hardly a bad deal, is it?”
Rachel narrowed her eyes, feeling not for the first time that her sister lacked some wits where they were necessary. “I do not know the man, Emily. What if he is cruel and foul-tempered? What kind of life shall I have then, bound to him?” Her question made the smile fall abruptly from her sister’s lips.
“I think she is trying to cheer your spirits,” Bridget said sweetly.
“You see the good in everyone.”
Rachel loved her sister for it but felt she could be sometimes willfully blind to reality. In truth, Emily was trying to brush off the situation as something that shouldn’t be a cause for worry, not for any belief of her own that all would be well, but out of guilt that she was the reason Rachel had been in that garden in the first place.
“Open the letter, please.” Bridget leaned toward her elder sister. “You might like what he has to say.”
Rachel turned over the letter and saw the Duke of Elbridge’s seal. There was an eagle and a heron bent together, their beaks looking pointed and deadly, carved into the red wax. Soon, it would be Rachel’s emblem too.
Oh… I’ll be a duchess.
She hadn’t even thought of that implication. Knowing it mattered little to her what title she had, she tore through the wax seal and hurried to read the Duke’s letter.
Dear Lady Rachel,
All has been arranged for the wedding. I have sent a full list of details to your father this evening. We shall marry this coming Saturday at my family chapel, and the small wedding breakfast will take place afterwards. We shall keep the guest list small, and gossipers such as the Countess of Sussex shall not be invited.
Until then,
The Duke of Elbridge.
Rachel felt her heart sink as she read the words. Despite her knowledge that the purpose of the marriage was to salvage her reputation, there was such a lack of warmth in the letter that she felt even smaller than she had done before.
“I suppose it was the only way I was ever going to marry,” she whispered, horror tinging her voice.
“What do you mean?” Bridget asked as Emily gathered their cards together and shuffled, ready for another game.
“I mean I hardly doubt anyone would wish to marry me. I am not like you two.” She looked between her sisters’ fair faces. “You two inspire admiration wherever you go. I never hoped for love, not really.”
“Never?” Bridget said, leaning forward, her lips parting. “But… you deserve it!”
“We must be practical on these things. I knew I would not get it.”
“You do yourself a disservice,” Emily said, huffing. “You are enough to attract a man, Rachel.”
Enough.
Rachel didn’t feel like enough. She tossed the letter onto the table, and her sisters craned their necks to read it.
“Not an ounce of warmth in that letter. None,” she said in a low voice. “I thought perhaps there could be friendship, yet perhaps not. Perhaps even that is too much to hope for in our marriage.”
Rachel thought back to the moment she and the Duke had shared in the garden. The attraction she had felt, that stirring deep within her gut seemed far away now. He may be marrying her, but he had made it plain it was for convenience only.
He will not bed me, for he does not find me attractive.
She gulped, fearing that would tinge the one hope she had ever had in her life.
“I had always hoped to be a mother.”
Her whispered confession made Bridget lean toward her and pat her hand again. “You’d make a wonderful mother,” she said sweetly.
“A bit overprotective, perhaps,” Emily jested with a smile. “Oh, come on, do not glare at me. I have to at least try to make you smile now, Mama Rachel. You would be a good mother. I am sure the Duke will give you one child, at least. After all, he needs an heir.”
Rachel blinked in realization. “Yes, I suppose he would need an heir.”
The thought of sharing her bed with the Duke made her heated. She imagined that athletic man lying on a bed with her, running his thick fingers through her hair and then pressing his lips to her neck.
She shuddered, praying her sisters hadn’t noticed her reaction. “I’d like to be a mother,” she whispered again.
“Thank the Lord for that!” Emily laughed and dealt out the cards. “At least then, when you have a child of your own to fuss over, you will stop concerning yourself with the two of us.”
Rachel stiffened, looking at her sister.
“You’ll be gone,” Emily added with a contented sigh.
“Emily, that is unkind.” Bridget’s voice was unusually sharp.
“She knows I mean it in jest.”
“Do I?” Rachel asked, staring at her youngest sister. “You seem awfully happy with the prospect of being free of me.”
“Do not take this the wrong way,” Emily pleaded. “You know I love you dearly, but you have had a tendency these last few years to be a little…” She waved one of the cards she was dealing in the air as she searched for the right word.
“What?” Rachel prompted.
“A little like a mother bear.” Emily chuckled. “Father and I walked through Covent Garden the other day. We saw a bear caged up for the bearbaiting. Horrible, really.” She grimaced. “Yet, the bear reminded me of you.” She guffawed with laughter.
When Bridget managed a small smile, Rachel hung her head. All she had ever done was try to protect her sisters, to love them. She’d often given them guidance in the absence of their mother, and there had been a time when she had thought her sisters appreciated her for what she had done for them.
Not anymore. Emily is not afraid to say she’ll be glad when I am gone, and Bridget is just too good-natured to hint at it.
Rachel stood, sliding her chair back across the wooden floorboards noisily.
“Rachel, surely you’re not offended,” Emily said, her laughter faltering slightly. “I’m just teasing you.”
“You’re not though, are you?” Rachel challenged. “You cannot wait for the day I am out of this house, so you can run off into gardens and corridors alone with men and risk your own reputation. You so long for another life that you don’t see I have damaged my own just in the attempt to protect you.”
“Rachel, please.” Bridget’s voice was gentle as she stood, trying to calm Rachel.
But Rachel could not be calmed now.
Shel snapped up the Duke’s letter from the table, no longer wishing to sit and play cards. She left the room, with Bridget calling after her.
“Now, look what you have done,” Bridget said a little sharply to Emily. “I know you meant well, but you have hurt her feelings.”
“It is not what I intended,” Emily muttered in a surprisingly miserable tone.
Rachel ignored them both and ran to the stairs. She only managed to get halfway up before the tears came, and she slumped down onto a step. Clutching the Duke’s letter in her grasp, she unfurled the paper and read his words again. They were cold, with no warmth in them at all.
Please like me enough to give me a child, that is all I ask.
At least then, Rachel was certain she could find some happiness in this world.
* * *
“Oh, look at you. What a fine sight you make!”
The elderly lady fussed over Daniel. She adjusted his lapels and the carnation in his jacket, then stood back with a teary-eyed smile.
“Aunt Dorothea, please,” he whispered. “There is no need for emotions.”
“I quite agree,” his sister said at their aunt’s side and rolled her eyes.
Anne bore the same dark brown hair, though her blue eyes were much lighter than his own. Her face was usually set in a pleasant smile, but she had not smiled since Daniel had told her he was to marry.
She stood in the chapel with her arms folded and her lips pursed, like an unhappy toddler. No amount of jests Ashleigh made could make either her or Daniel smile.
“Come on, I think your aunt has the right idea today.” Ashleigh jerked his head, making the blond hair across his temple dance.
“Thank you, Lord Harpenden,” Dorothea said to him.
“At least she feels some emotion. You two are standing here like wooden planks. It was my understanding that weddings are usually happy occasions.” Ashleigh shrugged when Daniel glared at him.
“Perhaps when entered into not out of necessity,” Daniel said in a low voice and looked around the chapel.
Just a few family members had gathered and one or two friends. On Rachel’s side of the pews, her sisters were present, both whispering to one another in quiet voices.
“Daniel, why are you doing this?” Anne hissed.
“Shh.” Dorothea waved a hand at Anne. She was a formidable woman, almost as tall as Daniel, and her grey hair was pulled tautly across her scalp, tugging at the skin around her eyes so that her frown looked like the glare of an eagle as she stared at Anne. “No matter what the circumstances, one must be happy now, Anne. Would you have your brother gossiped about forever more? Smile, for goodness’ sake, child, then our guests will think this a consensual marriage.”
Anne forced a sardonic smile on her face.
“I suppose I should thank you for the attempt, Sister,” Daniel whispered.
“I do not understand it, that is all,” Anne said, making the three of them sigh in unison. “So, what if there was a tiny scandal—”
“Tiny!?” Dorothea spluttered under her breath.
Ashleigh raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, despairing as much as Daniel was doing inwardly.
“Let Lady Rachel suffer the fall, Brother.”
“Anne, listen to yourself.” Daniel stared at his sister in alarm. “That would be treating the lady awfully, and her two sisters. I am not that kind of man, for all my faults.”
“Then you are too good for the lady,” Anne said haughtily, tilting her chin high.
“You know,” Ashleigh said, nudging Daniel in the arm, “growing up, I always thought your sister was sweet-natured.”
“I can hear you,” Anne hissed.
“Good.” Ashleigh met her gaze.
Daniel looked between them with interest. His best friend of many years and his sister seemed to have a habit of arguing more and more as of late, whereas once, when they had been young, Ashleigh had been as protective of Anne as he was.
I cannot think of this now. I have other things on my mind.
“I am sure this is some awful trick,” Anne said pleadingly, looking at each of them. “She has conned my brother into marriage so she can be a duchess.”
“Enough, Anne, please.” Dorothea was sharp, turning her eagle eyes on her niece. “Your brother is to be married, and a new chapter in his life is beginning. By continuing to be scornful, you make us all miserable.”
Anne looked chastened and hung her head.
“Daniel has made his decision, and we should support him in it.” Dorothea smiled at her nephew. “For one, I know he has done the right thing.”
Daniel stood taller, startled by his aunt’s praise. At times, she reminded him of his mother so much. The former Duchess had passed so many years ago that the reminder of her on his wedding day was a pleasant thought, until the door to the chapel opened.
“It’s time, Daniel, take your place,” Ashleigh whispered in his ear.
Daniel left his family and moved to stand at the altar, with the vicar before him.
Ashleigh stood at his friend’s side, with his hands clasped in front of him. “If you can, manage a small smile today, eh?”
“When was the last time you saw me smile?” Daniel asked, keeping his focus on the vicar and not looking back at his bride as the organ music began.
“Without restraint? Sadly, not since before the war,” Ashleigh confessed. “There’s always some reticence, even when I can manage to make you laugh.”
The truth of those words made Daniel look at his friend.
He’s noticed, then.
“I hope you’ll find your freedom to enjoy life to the fullest, again,” Ashleigh whispered with a sad smile. “Right now, I’ll take a forced smile to please your duchess, so get to it.”
Daniel nodded in understanding, appreciating his friend’s candidness. They’d grown up together as children, as their mothers had been friends, and since then, a lasting bond had formed. No one was as honest with him as Ashleigh was, and the two could easily forgive each other their audaciousness, for they knew they had each other’s best interests at heart.
Daniel turned to look at his bride.
Rachel stepped up to the altar, with the Earl of Pratt leading the way. One look at her, and Daniel did a double take, stunned by her appearance.
Her honey-brown hair was swept up into a cascade of curls at the back of her head. Her ivory veil was tucked into those curls, and then drifted behind her, mixing with the train of her gown. The sleeves were cropped short and the neckline deep, revealing the slenderness and elegance of her shoulders and neck. The fitted material cinched high on her waist and then flowed down to the floor.
When she faced him, she didn’t quite smile, but her full lips were pressed together, colored in a pleasant shade of pink.
She is so uncommonly beautiful.
He was speechless as he offered her his arm. She released her father and took his arm. He tried his best to ignore the jolt that passed through him at that touch and led her toward the vicar, who greeted them.
“Dearly beloved…” As the vicar began the ceremony, Daniel focused on Rachel alone.
The sadness in her countenance was as plain as the wind that rattled through the church columns from the open door and lifted her veil off the floor, making her seem like some mystical specter. Her hand only lightly touched his arm, and as much as he wished she would hold him tighter, she never did.
She is so sad. I am the cause of this.
Guilt raged inside of him.
It was a confusing feeling, mixed with the attraction he felt toward her. He pictured taking her back to his bedchamber, pulling that veil out of her hair, and bundling the white gown around her hips. Maybe he wouldn’t even make it to the bed but lower her down to the rug instead and pleasure her there until she moaned his name loudly.
She deserves a better life than the one I can give her.
The truth cut him to the core. He couldn’t bed her, for then, he’d be breaking his vow not to have children.
“Now, Your Grace, please repeat after me.” The vicar turned his attention to Daniel partway through the ceremony. “It is time for your vows.”
Daniel repeated the words to every letter as determination swelled inside of him. Perhaps he couldn’t be the husband that Rachel deserved, but he would not make her miserable, and there were vows he was going to keep to.
“I, Daniel Warren, take thee, Rachel Lock, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and I plight thee my troth.”
He slipped the ring on her finger, feeling how delicate and slender her hand was in comparison to his muscly paw.
I’ll keep her safe and protect her, and vow that no harm will ever come to her.
It was a promise that he would not break.