Chapter 7

Georgiana held a scream in the back of her throat.

No matter how she swallowed, she could not make it go away. She kept her lips pressed tightly together as she stayed in her position. It was the one her father had redirected her to a moment ago while the Duke pulled the archbishop aside.

This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening.

"As grateful as we are for everyone's patience," came the thundering voice of the archbishop. She nearly jumped, stunned as she was to hear such a loud voice coming from a small man. "We are more than happy to begin today's sacred joining if there are no more objections."

She opened her mouth. It was more out of habit, she liked to think. She always had to object, to speak her mind, to correct people when they made mistakes.

But there was a shift at her side. Her lips pressed together as the Duke took her hand and placed it on his arm. As she looked at him from the corner of her eye, Georgiana felt a shiver run through her body. Her hand invariably tightened on his arm. He laid his other hand over hers to give it a gentle, comforting squeeze before dropping it to his side.

Comfort… He thinks I need him. But I don't. He must know that. I don't need him. I don't need this marriage. I don't need any of this.

The archbishop carried on with his spiel from the Book of Common Prayer. While he spoke, Georgiana worked through the reasons why she didn't need to marry the Duke.

"… and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

The arm beneath hers shook slightly. Georgiana stiffened. She glanced at the archbishop, who only stared impassively back at her. Was she to do something? When he gave her no clue, she was forced to look at the Duke for guidance.

He was mouthing the word ‘yes' while giving her the slightest nod.

Feeling her mouth turn dry, she managed to say, "Yes, I… I do."

It took her a moment to recall those words.

Trapped. That was what she was. Even though she had fought so long to be her own person, to lead a life where she still maintained some level of control, it all came to naught. Her own life and that of Emma.

She pursed her lips in frustration.

Between the two men, I don't know that I would have any preference. Yet Benedict seemed more lenient than the Duke of Winchester. What was his name? Owen Comerfield? He looks like trouble. Already I can tell he isn't friendly and is most likely demanding and rude. He'll expect me to do whatever he desires at any given time, no matter what he has said up till now.

Even though she didn't trust the Duke, apparently her father trusted him enough. They had agreed to merely make an addendum to the current contract which would switch out the names of Benedict to Owen. Her father had sent someone to retrieve the men of business so the situation would be handled immediately.

And it was. By the time the archbishop announced her wed, two men had arrived. Her father reviewed the changes while the marriage license was brought out. All the papers were signed in a matter of minutes.

"It's finished," Ernest announced. He wore the closest thing he had to a smile as he turned to their small audience. "I present you the new Duke and Duchess of Winchester!"

A small rumble of annoyance came from the man at her side. She flinched. He was so quiet for one standing so close to her. All she had to do was step slightly to her left to press against his elbow.

But she didn't do that as he offered her his arm. "My Lady?" he prompted in a curt tone.

"Thank you," she muttered, sounding equally unhappy.

The two of them descended the steps to join those in the pews. But her father hadn't invited her few friends. Though her aunt and uncle were in attendance, her cousin Marjory was not there. No one else there knew her very well.

Nor did they know the Duke. Georgiana caught that quickly between the awkward introductions and the hesitation in their conversation. Nearly everyone commented on the rare sighting of the Duke to his face, rude as it might be. He was cold and stern, nodding more than using his words, until they had finally spoken to everyone.

"I'm so sorry," Lady Carlisle murmured one more time at her shoulder before she disappeared.

"Right this way, Aunt Augusta."

Owen slipped from Georgiana's side to help the Marchioness. It was as though he couldn't get away from his wife fast enough. Although, Georgiana supposed, his aunt really did need the assistance.

Watching them disappear toward the entrance, Georgiana lingered behind without knowing what to do. She looked for her father, but he was deep in conversation with his solicitor.

Which means he'll never notice me now. Nor will he want to talk to me. What am I to do, stand around here forever? These so-called gentlemen think that I can just do anything they like, as though I'm not my own person.

Georgiana let out a loud huff of annoyance before she decided to do something about it. Out of the church she went, walking all on her own. It only took her a moment to reach the carriage she had stepped out of not even an hour ago.

She had hardly rapped on the door before it swung open. "Georgiana!" her sister squealed.

"How was the wedding?" Jean asked, dropping her book. "Lady Emma, you know Lady Georgiana must go with Lord Egerton now. How was it?"

"I'm not going to become a marchioness," Georgiana said flatly, the realization still leaving her uncomfortable. She bit her lip hard and grabbed the side handle tightly to stifle the urge to climb in and hide. "I'm a duchess now."

Her maid's mouth dropped open. "What? With whom? What on earth has taken place? You were gone three-quarters of an hour, My Lady—Your Grace—You must tell us everything!"

"Does that mean I need to bow to you?" Emma asked.

"No, it does not. I'm still trying to understand it myself," Georgiana admitted. "It all happened so quickly. But the groom didn't show up, and I think he fleed. No one would tell me anything, and then suddenly I was standing up there with the Duke of Winchester…"

Another loud gasp. "The Duke of Winchester! Goodness gracious, I've heard of him. They say he killed his parents. Some say he poisoned ten men in Germany during his travels! Oh, My Lady—Your Grace, how has this happened? You can't marry him."

"I'm sure those are rumors."

"But he's dangerous! Handsome, to be certain, but surely the devil," her passionate maid protested.

"The devil?"

Georgiana tugged on her sister's hand, enveloping it in both of hers. "Don't listen to her, dear. Jean is only jesting. She reads too many gothic novels at night. I'm going to be just fine, my dear."

At least, she hoped so. She had to be. Emma needed her. If she had married Benedict, Georgiana had an entire argument set up to explain why her sister needed to live with them. Except the argument had been prepared for someone who was kind and polite. Not… not like Owen.

He didn't look the sort to give in to tears. He didn't appear that gentle. No matter his fine looks or his gentlemanly appearance, she was not certain she could convince him to bring her sister with them.

But I must try.

"Duchess?"

She jumped, pulling her sister closer when she heard Owen's low voice. There was no emotion in it. There was nothing. Turning around, she realized dimly what he had called her. Yes, a title just for her. One she didn't care for.

"Your Grace," she sputtered. "I was only…"

His gaze roamed over her for a second and then flicked to her sister at her side. When she heard Emma whimper, Georgiana instinctively blocked her from his view.

"We should be off," Owen told her, with his hands clasped behind his back.

Just like that, he expects me to fall into line. What am I to him, truly? A servant? A soldier? Anything or nothing?

"I… I shall, yes," she stammered out. "I only wish to tell my sister farewell before I go."

He clenched his jaw before nodding. "I shall give you a moment."

It wasn't much of a moment if the Duke only took two steps back. He didn't even take his gaze off her. Georgiana wasted a minute with the expectation he would keep moving back. She nodded, ignoring the unease in her stomach, and mustered a tight smile when she turned back to Emma.

"Please don't go," her sister moaned, with tears in her eyes. "You can't really be leaving me. Don't you love me?"

"Oh, I do. I do love you, very much," Georgiana reassured her. She swallowed hard in the hopes no one heard her voice crack. "I shall visit. I promise, Emma. I just don't know when, but I shall," she offered.

"Then I shall visit you," her sister announced. "I know how to be polite, and I can dress in my best dress. It will please you, Georgiana. I'll even share the cakes. Please?"

Georgiana blinked back tears. "I would love that more than anything."

"Then can I visit you later today? And tomorrow?"

"I…"

Georgiana licked her lips and looked over her shoulder. She saw Owen studying his pocket watch. It was apparently more important than her. How would that impact their relationship? The freedom that he had said he would give her? She didn't trust a promise from anyone, including a gentleman, on faith alone.

Surely Benedict would have been easier to manage than Owen. How am I supposed to convince a man with no heart to help me?

"I don't know. But soon." The words felt like sour lies rolling off her tongue. Georgiana hated the thought of Emma living with their father alone. Her sister was too young for this. "I'm so sorry."

Georgiana hugged her sister tightly, close to her heart, before reluctantly letting go. She subtly wiped a tear away as she turned to her husband.

It was her only option. Though her father had been cruel about the situation, Georgiana wasn't so foolish that she misunderstood the intentions here. She had needed a fine match. Now that she had a sister married to a duke, Emma would surely have every door opened for her in the future.

Though she could hear her sister crying in the carriage Georgiana forced herself to walk over to her husband.

"I'm ready," she murmured.

The Duke glanced up at her with disinterest before putting his pocket watch back into his waistcoat. It was a beautiful piece, gold embroidery over green velvet, in his otherwise gray attire. The clothing was quite refined albeit understated, especially for a duke.

"Then we shall go. We're taking a hackney, since I rode here on my stallion," he muttered, gesturing to the nearby wagon.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Georgiana eyed the beautiful beast behind the hackney, black with a white star and a single white stocking. Although she wasn't that educated about horses, she knew fine horseflesh when she saw it. The horse resisted the rope but could do nothing. She felt the same.

Neither she nor her new husband spoke on their ride through London. It wasn't until they'd rode through a few streets that she realized she didn't even know where they were going. Though she was tempted to ask, Georgiana bit back the urge to talk until they had arrived.

It was a large estate two streets past Mayfield, where the house resided in a quiet corner lane. She was helped out by a footman. Her heart thudded as she stared up at the house.

Gloomy. That was the only word that described this house. She couldn't bring herself to call it a home. An older estate built in stone with two gargoyles atop the structure, gothic ironwork used in the balconies, it appeared too grand for London. The place radiated coldness and darkness even as she climbed up the pathway, following her husband.

He knocked on the door twice before he grumbled under his breath, pulled out a key, and unlocked it. When he opened it for her to walk through, Georgiana hesitated. All that was inside was darkness.

"I've been away a long time."

Glancing at Owen, she asked, "How long is that?"

"More years than I care to count, at this point. I would rather we don't have the entire street gawking at us if you don't mind." Georgiana hesitated and stepped inside so he would follow. "I rent rooms when I'm in London. Those aren't meant for a bride."

She swallowed. "Oh. Ah. I see."

"I did send them a message we would be arriving momentarily," he added as an afterthought.

"Your Grace! Goodness me," a woman at the far end of the hall cried out. "And, Your Grace! What a pleasure it is to have you here. Welcome, welcome. I'm sorry about the door. We've lost the knocker, you see. And I had to beg my sisters to come help tidy up. Already the master bedchamber is cleaned. We should have two more before the day is over. That, and the dining room."

Owen glanced at Georgiana at then back at the woman who had finally reached them. She was a bundle of thick brown hair that kept falling over her shoulders. Younger than expected, but cheerful and bright with crooked teeth.

"That will be enough, thank you. I don't know how long I will be staying here," the Duke reassured his housekeeper. "Mrs. Helena, I would like to introduce you to Georgiana Comerfield, the new Duchess of Winchester."

"My Lady! I mean, Your Grace!" The housekeeper curtsied.

"And this is Mrs. Helena. Her mother was housekeeper here before her and taught her everything," Owen explained. "She'll be able to show you the house and help you get settled in. Mrs. Helena?"

Bobbing another curtsey, the housekeeper nodded. "Yes, I can, Your Grace."

"Good."

Before Georgiana had a chance to think about what might happen next, again the Duke made his decision. He gave a short nod, took off his hat and gave it to the housekeeper, and then marched down the hall. There were no farewell or parting words. Not even a look. She had obviously been forgotten.

She stared after him, willing him to turn back. Didn't he care about her at all? Was he going to just leave her in his house without any other introductions or support?

"Your Grace?"

Georgiana started, looking back at the housekeeper. "Yes?"

"Shall we begin the tour? I know it may not be much at this time. His Grace never comes here. Whenever I give my reports, he prefers I travel out to meet him in the country. Not that I mind. I like the countryside and all, but it's a bit too much for me. It isn't for everyone, that open air."

Chattering away, the young housekeeper––plain but friendly––started walking on. It wasn't exactly proper, but Georgiana wasn't certain what else to do beyond following.

The house didn't grow any brighter. Just dustier and grayer. Her courage faltered with every new room shown to her, further proof of the state of disrepair the house had fallen in. Was this what her life would be like now? Gray? Lonely? And definitively forgotten by the Duke?

This must be the worst day of my life. Or second-worse compared to the day we lost Mama. How can this be my new home? The Duke had disappeared somewhere in here, probably to forget me forever.

Georgiana fought back the urge to pity herself once she had a quiet moment alone in the hall. She studied the curling edges of the faded green wallpaper, swearing to herself that it couldn't happen to her as well. It couldn't happen.

"For Emma," she reminded herself. "I can do this for Emma."