Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

“ Y ou look ravishing, my dear,” Lady Langham cried, wiping the corner of her eyes. “I believe you’re the most beautiful bride ever.”

Louisa rolled her eyes at the exaggeration, but as she sat at the vanity and stared at her reflection in the mirror, she was inclined to agree. She could hardly recognize the beautiful lady staring back at her—her maid had truly overdone herself.

Her wedding gown was a beautiful velvet sapphire-blue piece, the colour suiting her pale skin. The silver beadwork on the fitted bodice and the hem of her dress reflected the sunlight, giving her an ethereal glow. It was almost hard to believe that such a beautiful gown was made on such short notice. It must have cost her family a fortune.

Her hair was swept up in an elegant updo, a few strands let down to frame her face. A silver tiara was placed over it, just above the veil they would lower over her face later. It, too, glinted with the sapphires that lined it.

She felt like a queen—a very beautiful one at that. Her maid had cleverly hidden her scar with well-placed powder, and if one didn’t look too closely, they wouldn’t see it at all.

With the scar a little less noticeable, she looked nearly perfect, but it was unnerving. She had come to see her scar as a part of her she didn’t need to hide, so with it being barely visible now, she couldn’t help but feel plain.

Considering that she had little to no rest while trying to make sure everything was perfect for the wedding in such short notice, she must say that it was worth it.

“Your Duke would be struck dumb when he sees you,” Isabella commented, hugging her from behind and bending to place a kiss on her cheek. “You look absolutely beautiful, Louisa. I am almost jealous.”

“I prefer my husband speaking, thank you very much,” Louisa replied with a teasing smile, and Isabella laughed in response.

“You look absolutely ravishing, dear sister,” Selina gushed, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Thank you,” Louisa said, feeling the build-up of moisture at the back of her eyes. To distract herself, she asked, “What about my favourite nephew? Do not tell me you left him with the wet nurse.”

“As if he would agree,” Selina sniffed. “He is having the time of his life in his father’s arms. Sometimes I am positive that he forgets I exist—except when he is hungry, of course.”

Louisa laughed at the look of frustration on her sister’s face. At that moment, when nervousness and anxiety would have made mincemeat out of her, she was grateful to Selina for making her laugh.

“Thank you,” she whispered to her, and she just nodded. “How did you know I was nervous?”

“I am married, remember?” Selina smiled. “It is only normal.”

“I feel like my stomach is going to explode.”

“It will calm down once you see him. Although we should prepare you for your wedding night, so you do not faint.” Selina laughed, while Isabella snickered.

Their mother reddened but nodded nonetheless.

Louisa had not told them that her marriage with the Duke would never be consummated, but she kept silent as they lectured her, sometimes going so far that her mother had to shush them. She was flushed by the time they finished and unable to see her sisters or their husbands the same way.

“Now that you know everything you need, it’s time to get married,” Isabella intoned, pulling her up. “The Duke has waited enough for his bride.”

Louisa sincerely hoped that everything they had told her would not somehow be visible on her face. They went about their day as though they hadn’t just taught her things that should have never been spoken about before she stepped into the church.

Her uncle smiled up at her, the first she had ever seen, as she descended the stairs. Even the butler, who normally looked stoic, was wide-eyed.

She blushed and curtseyed once she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Uncle,” she greeted.

“You look lovely, girl.”

“I thank you.”

“Shall we go?” her uncle asked.

She nodded and allowed him to lead her to their carriage, her heart thudding all the way to the cathedral Percy had chosen.

When she stood at the entrance of the Cathedral, her anxiety returned. She just focused on her groom, who was standing at the altar, waiting for her.

He looked regally handsome with his gelled-back brown hair and clean-shaven face, which made his scar all the more visible. But to her, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

He was dressed in a well-tailored velvet jacket, a white shirt, and a silver vest. His wool breeches fit him snugly, accentuating his toned legs, and his boots shone from a good polish. He looked every bit the Duke, yet he seemed as nervous as she felt. Perhaps they had much more in common than she had imagined.

Putting on her brightest smile, she walked towards her future as his beautiful Duchess.

Percival had not thought it possible to be struck dumb by a woman’s beauty, but as he stood at the altar, watching that angel walk towards him, he confirmed that it was indeed possible.

She looked radiant, smiling as brightly as she did. Despite her sheer veil, he was blinded. It was hard to believe that this beautiful woman was going to be his in a few moments.

As she progressed down the aisle, the guests faded into the background, his attention solely on her, on the brightness that he wanted to pull into himself. Her skin gleamed like the most precious pearls. His hands itched to touch her, pull her into his arms, and devour her.

When she stopped beside him, he experienced a different kind of torture, the scent of flowers tempting him to pull her into his arms and breathe her in to find its source.

Throughout the ceremony, he was lost in fantasies—vivid ones where he had the liberty to ravish the beautiful Louisa.

He had barely managed to remember to give the appropriate response when it was time to repeat his vows, surprised that his voice did not betray his desire.

When they exchanged rings, he savored the opportunity to touch the perfection of her skin. He lingered a little, holding onto her hand.

His mind conjured filthy images of those slender fingers somewhere else on his body, giving him pleasure. With conscious effort, he pushed such thoughts away, since he was already semi-erect, fast on his way to developing a full erection while standing in a church no less.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said, nudging him out of his self-reflection.

Percival looked down into the face of his bride. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes flitted to his and away. She was shy. He was willing to wager that she had never been kissed.

Stepping closer to her, he tilted her face up to his, forcing her to stare into his eyes. She looked so innocent at that moment, wide- eyed, her mouth a rosebud of the softest pink. It was tempting, so tempting that he decided he was fast on his way to becoming obsessed with her lips.

Considering the desire simmering in his blood and the innocence of his bride, it was best to keep the kiss as chaste as possible. He bent his head to place a kiss on her soft cheek, but she turned her face at the last moment, and their lips collided.

That was when all hell broke loose. Her lips were soft just like he had imagined and sweet. The kiss started chaste, with him pressing his lips to hers. But the kiss soon caught fire when she kissed him back, and he licked her lips until she let him in. Groaning at her sweetness, he devoured her, completely forgetting that they had an audience.

It was the sound of the priest clearing his throat that shocked him out of his lustful haze.

He reluctantly released her, inwardly cursing himself for being a fool.

He had intended for this marriage to be one of convenience, but he had already blown it to ashes with that kiss because there was no way he was going to look at her again without thinking of the kiss and wanting to repeat it.

What would happen after he satisfied his desire?

Louisa would be left to pick up the pieces and would probably hate him for abandoning her after using her body. Even if the dark part of his mind told him to sample her sweetness and be done with it, he knew there was no way he could get enough of her after just one taste.

He could not offer her the emotional support that a wife would no doubt need. He wasn’t capable of it. She was a woman of passion and life and excitement, while he was a man damaged on the inside by the things he had done.

Emotionally, he was no good to anyone, and he was not going to take her body when he could not offer her love in return.

As the ceremony ended, they walked down the aisle and were greeted by their family. Eli, Tobias, and Mrs. Owens, the housekeeper—Percival’s only guests at the wedding—came up to offer their congratulations.

Soon they retired indoors for the wedding breakfast. Louisa sparkled beside him, accepting congratulations and well wishes gratefully and smiling at him from time to time as she ate from their shared plate.

She was everything he wasn’t—beautiful, innocent, and bright. And while Percival knew he could not offer her those in return, he was selfish enough to want to keep her light and joy to himself.

He didn’t allow himself to feel guilty because he had been honest from the start about what their marriage would look like. He knew she would grow to resent him with time, but before she could lash out, he would have discovered everything he needed about the circumstances of his brother’s death.

“I think it’s time for the couple’s first dance,” her uncle announced.

Their guests cheered and cleared a path in the middle of the hall.

Louisa stiffened and gave Percival an apologetic look. He offered her his hand and rose from his seat.

He couldn’t give her a happy life, but he could ensure that she at least enjoyed the wedding.

Her eyes widened in shock, but she placed her hand in his nonetheless.

The minstrels struck up a tune as they neared. A waltz, Percival realized. He placed a hand on her waist and took her other hand, trying hard to ignore the feel of her waist beneath his hand or the heat that traveled up his arms where he touched her.

She stared up at him with wide eyes as they danced, her cheeks red, and he wondered why. He spun her once, and everyone faded away as if they were the only people left in the world.

She moved in time with him, and he knew then that things would never be the same again.