Chapter 7

The Wedding Day

Three Weeks Later

“Oh, my goodness!” Modesty Clarke, the Dowager Duchess of Walford, exclaimed. “Was that not the most beautiful wedding ceremony you have ever seen?”

Beatrice was at a loss for words for a moment. It was the first time she had been introduced to Edwin’s mother, and she was doubly surprised at the energy of the woman. She wore a bright pink dress and a grin that looked oversized on her face.

“Um, yes,” Beatrice agreed. “Yes, it was rather nice.”

She racked her brain, trying to think of one part of the wedding that could be described as anything other than ordinary, but she found none. The service went just as expected—it was short and sweet, and the priest spoke clearly and confidently. If there was a standard to set for future wedding ceremonies, it was certainly her own wedding.

“Oh, and the music,” Modesty continued, talking about the harp player near the door. She pressed her hands to her cheeks as if she were in disbelief. “I have never heard the sound of angels, but I came close today.” She removed her hands from her cheeks and placed them on Beatrice’s. “And your dress, my dear. Oh, I have not seen a more beautiful bride.”

Beatrice might not agree she was the most beautiful bride, but her dress was stunning. Her father had bought it for the wedding—he certainly had not held back. She felt regal in her long cream gown with floral embroidery.

She was glad her father had chosen so well, and she matched the effort the Duke had put in. He was resplendent in his jet-black trousers and tail coat, pressed snow-white shirt, and emerald green cravat. He wore a black top hat, and Beatrice knew his hair would be perfectly styled beneath even after removing the headwear.

There was so much to take in, and she felt closed in by the Duke and his family. She had not seen him between the morning when the scandal had broken out and her wedding day. It was her first time meeting any of his family.

“Your hair is gorgeous,” Modesty gushed. “And I could not stop crying when the two of you kissed at the end of the service. It shall be a memory etched in my mind until the day I die.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Beatrice replied.

She found the Duke’s stepmother entertaining for sure, but the generous words reminded her of her disappointment. Beatrice was not looking forward to a marriage with the Cruel Duke, but she was looking forward to her wedding night and, before that, the kiss at their wedding.

The kiss had been as simple as the ceremony, with the Duke pecking her cheek instead of the passionate kiss she had hoped for.

“Your Grace,” Elizabeth said, curtseying before Beatrice.

“What are—” Beatrice paused when she realized she was now a duchess. She tried not to look shocked as her sister-in-law straightened back up before her.

“You must excuse my mother,” Elizabeth whispered. “She can get caught up in these sorts of things, and she has been speculating about how beautiful and charismatic you are to have stolen my brother from Miss Jennings.”

Beatrice could not work out the intent behind the words, but she trod carefully so as not to say the wrong thing, especially on her wedding day and particularly when meeting her in-laws for the first time. She did not want to dwell on the events that had led to her marriage.

“His Grace is a good man, and I am happy to be married to him,” Beatrice stated.

“I will debut this year,” Elizabeth said. “You must help me prepare.”

Beatrice found the change of topic unusual and too abrupt, but she was glad for it.

“I shall be happy to,” she replied. “My youngest sister will also debut this year.”

Elizabeth looked satisfied by her response.

Beatrice took a deep breath. It was hard enough to navigate the intricacies of her new marriage, but it was harder still to meet these new people with whom she would forge relationships.

She looked toward her father, and he did not look happy. He did not look sad or angry either. For the first time in months, he looked relieved. That was the moment that almost broke her. She felt the tears well up in her eyes, happy that she had finally made amends. It might still take time, but it was done, and her father would not have to carry around the constant pain and stress.

Beatrice might have broken down in tears if her heart had not skipped a beat upon seeing the man walking toward them through the small wedding chapel. Robert Hawkins, the Earl of Pemberton, was heading straight to her, and she had nowhere to hide.

But he eventually went straight to the Duke and shook his hand. Beatrice heaved a sigh of relief. Her heart beat a little faster when the Duke brought Robert over.

“My congratulations, Your Grace,” Robert said. “I still cannot believe my good friend is married, and I hope you will knock some sense into him.”

“Good friend?” Beatrice murmured.

Edwin smiled. “Robert and I have known each other since Eton. He is my closest friend.”

“We met because we both fought over the same woman for a while,” Robert said, chuckling. “I’m glad that does not happen anymore. I would not like to go up against His Grace.”

The way Robert looked at Beatrice told her that he knew everything, and her face flushed. With the recent nuptials, no one would think anything of it, but Beatrice, Robert, and Edwin knew the truth, and Beatrice did not know whether to laugh or cry. She had gone to Lord Pemberton’s room that night to seduce him, and he obviously found the entire thing humorous.

But then her surprise turned into guilt, a feeling she had become used to. She knew the Duke did not care for her, and no matter what he said, he had been forced into the marriage to save face. He was in the same situation as her, but for reasons she did not understand. Her father demanded that she marry anyone to restore the family’s reputation, and the Duke demanded that she marry him.

Perhaps she did understand a little. He was a duke, and dukes were expected to have families. He was a man, and men liked to have children to continue their lines. Edwin might have decided to marry her quickly, but he did not do it for love. He obviously did not like her. She had seen the look in his eyes when he thought about claiming her body, but there was nothing more behind it.

Looking at Lord Pemberton, Beatrice saw a flash of happiness—a flash of what could have been. On one side was Lord Mutton, and on the other was the Duke—both were extremes of unhappiness. In the middle was Lord Pemberton. If her plan had worked, she could have had a happy life with a good man who had shown he cared when he did not have to.

Instead, she was bound to the Duke of Walford, a man she had heard many stories about over the years. She had seen some of his temper and the way he made decisions, and she understood the stories to be true.

Beatrice watched her husband as he talked with Lord Pemberton, and only one thing kept her going. It was her wedding day, and soon it would be her wedding night. She was nervous about it but knew it would distract her from everything else. She had been waiting almost a month for the Duke to pleasure her and explore her body, and it was coming soon. After that, she would deal with what came next.

“We should leave,” Edwin said. “We have other things to do.”

“Of course.” Beatrice agreed.

She went to her parents and sisters to say goodbye, and Edwin did the same with the other guests. Phineas made sure to go and shake Edwin’s hand before everyone departed.

To Phineas, Edwin was the man who had saved everyone’s blushes, and he would be eternally grateful for him.

The married couple boarded the coach and headed for the Duke’s estate. There was no wedding breakfast planned. The marriage had been arranged quickly, and the Duke saw no need to plan a great celebration when it was not needed.

Beatrice had been a little disappointed, but after what she had done, she had little say in how events should proceed. The coach rumbled from the small chapel, and it was somewhat of an anticlimax after everything that had happened.

One thought came to Beatrice’s mind. She might have heard stories and gossip about the Duke, but when she thought about it, she barely knew him. This was their third meeting. She needed to speak to him but did not know what to say.

Edwin was silent during the journey. But the silence became unbearable to Beatrice. They did not know each other and shared no connection, and the gap between them was widening.

She glanced at him, sitting opposite her. He looked out the window, which gave her a chance to take him in. With there being no wedding breakfast or celebration, would they go straight to their bedchamber, or would she have to wait until later?

The Duke had seen her in only her undergarments, and it had almost been the opposite for her. She had only seen him in his formalwear, which left much to the imagination. If his body were like his character, it would be tough and powerful. Beatrice could only focus on that to get her through the silent coach ride.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” the Duke demanded.

Beatrice started, flinching in her seat. She hadn’t realized he had caught her staring, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed. She blushed some more, worried that she was only causing more trouble.

There was more silence—an oppressive, angry silence. Even the coach was quiet, and the driver managed to keep them on an almost flat road with no bumps.

“I apologize,” the Duke said sternly.

Beatrice did not know what to say, but she looked back at him, a little unsure.

“I have been angry with you, and while this arrangement makes sense, you were still the one who forced my hand, and I do not like to have my hand forced. I don’t like to be trapped.”

Beatrice felt ashamed. “It was not my intention to trap you.”

“I know, but it was your intention to trap someone. The reasons don’t matter, even if they are understandable. You trapped me, and you trapped yourself. This is your fault, Beatrice, but we should dwell on it no longer. It is a match that suits us both, even if it brings us frustration.”

“I know it is my fault. I have spent a long time with guilt in my heart, and now I have more to replace it.”

“You speak as if you are not the architect of your guilt, Beatrice. You did not mean this, but you must admit it worked out much better for you than it could have. I have seen how you look at me and whisper to your sister. My reputation precedes me, but I want you to know that I will not hurt you.”

Beatrice looked at her husband, unsure how to respond to that.

“Do you believe me?” Edwin asked.

She held his gaze. “I do. What did you want to apologize for?”

The Duke sighed. “I am angry at what you did, but we are married now, and I should forget about the past as much as you should. I should not have snapped at you just now when you were staring at me.”

“I was not staring at you,” Beatrice protested.

“Then what were you staring at?”

Beatrice floundered. She could usually talk her way out of any situation, but the Duke was different—he was domineering. “I don’t know.”

“Either way, I apologize for snapping at you. This is not how a marriage should begin.”

“No,” Beatrice agreed, her thoughts turning back to how their marriage should begin. She tried not to stare again.

“I have expectations,” the Duke continued. “You are my wife now, and you must act like it. No more schemes or ploys.”

“I would never,” Beatrice gasped. “I will do whatever is necessary of me.”

Whatever is necessary for a simple life that won’t hurt my family.

“We will eat breakfast and dinner together. I might enjoy getting to know you better, Beatrice, and if the way we met is anything to go by, I hope you will have entertaining conversations. We will start a family, and we will have a governess, of course, but you will also raise our children, as will I. Children need the love of both parents. I expect you to attend events with me, and you will be on your best behavior at these events. You will be respectful in my home, and you will inform me if you wish to have guests over or make social calls. I don’t believe this is too much to ask after what has transpired.”

Beatrice thought it was too much to ask of her, but he was right. He had solved her problems, and she should be thankful even if her life were confined.

“I will do as you ask,” she conceded.

“Other than that, our lives will continue as they did before we got married. This is an arranged marriage, and those will be our arrangements.”

Beatrice did not like what she was hearing, but it was better than what she had expected. She imagined the cruelty he might inflict on her, but if they were to live mostly separate lives, she could avoid it.

“I defer to your judgment,” she said.

“Good,” the Duke replied as the coach stopped. “My footmen will unload your bags, and the housekeeper is waiting for you inside.”

“You are not joining me?” Beatrice asked.

“I have business to attend to,” he replied.

“Business? When will you be home?”

The Duke shot her a look. Beatrice should not have questioned him, but there was the pressing matter of their wedding night to address.

“I shall see you at breakfast,” the Duke said.

Beatrice only nodded. She exited the coach and took one last look back at her husband. He was looking out the opposite window.

Her married life had begun with disappointment.