Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

S aturday morning dawned with the sun in the sky and a chill in the air. The weather seemed to mock him in its cheeriness, but Alex felt none of it, for he had grown numb to everything around him. Even his own wedding day.

The servants had already secured Miss Clay's belongings and brought them to his townhouse on Park Street. He had informed the housekeeper of a new incoming maid, and had the room attached to his prepared for his wife, but he couldn't imagine that the connecting door would be used any time soon.

By the time Alex arrived at the chapel, the Duke and Duchess of Norland were already there waiting for him, even though he'd made every effort to be early. He didn't want a hint or a whisper of him not being willing to perform his duty, not an ounce of shame or shadow on his name. His bitterness at the entire ordeal still simmered beneath the surface, but when he caught a glimpse of his future wife standing quietly behind them, his stomach soured. Her blonde hair was curled and pinned to perfection, and she donned a pale blue gown that seemed appropriate for the day, but she did not appear as a bride on her wedding day should, for she was miserable.

"Good morning, Your Grace, Your Grace," he said with a bow, greeting Norland and his wife. Then he turned. "And to you, Miss Clay." She acknowledged him with a nod but did not meet his gaze.

Last he'd seen of her, she'd entered the duke's study with a heated intention and a lion's aggression. But now she was pale and reserved as a lamb, hands tucked together in front of her, eyes on the ground. He did not like the feeling of guilt that spread through his chest, for this situation was not entirely her fault, but he did not feel pleasant about shackling himself to a girl who did not want him, for he did not want her either.

"How good you look, Mr. Westcott," the duchess offered with a smile. "Do you have any family to accompany you today?"

Alex shook his head. "My mother is in Bath with my sisters, one of whom is expecting, so they won't be able to attend."

"Oh, what a shame," she responded. "I should have liked to meet them."

"Perhaps another time," Alex said, then realizing these two members of nobility would soon be family, he added, "I will be certain to introduce them when next they come to town."

Alex dared a glance at Miss Clay, who still added nothing to the conversation.

"Are you expecting any guests?" Alex asked.

The duke shook his head. "I have acquired the witnesses, but our friends are out of the city right now, and my mother is ill." Then he motioned to his ward. "Miss Clay's friends wished to come, but it interfered with their employment."

The statement shocked Alex; the woman kept friends with the working class. He had no objection to it himself, though it left him surprised that the duke would have allowed it, for such things were not common amongst the upper crust in London. Alex would have to get used to his connection to nobility now, even though they did not seem the normal lot.

The vicar appeared at the entrance and ushered them all inside. The pleasant old man reviewed how the ceremony would proceed, as if the day were a happy occasion.

Then the wedding began, and Alex was suddenly caught up in the reality of it all. The church was cold, despite the sun shining through the stained-glass windows, with the multiple pews void of any guests.

When Alex knelt beside Miss Clay and the vicar droned on about the rights of marriage and its sanctity, the only thought that crossed his mind was if he should be the one to object himself. Of course he would never do such a thing, bringing more shame to his fiancé and himself in their situation, but how he wished he could. There was no telling what his future would be, but he was certain it would be nothing like the life he had imagined with Miss Allman. His heart ached, but he had to dismiss it quickly. He could not long for one woman while married to another.

The ceremony carried on in a forgettable manner until the vicar asked him to take her hand. Alex glanced at Miss Clay, trying to remember something about her personality or her mannerisms, anything that would give him a hint of what their future would hold. The only thoughts that flooded his mind were vivid memories from the balcony; the press of her lips, the urge of her touch, the intoxicating scent of her that had lured him to his doom…

Alex shook his head, certain such thoughts would not be welcome in a church.

After the vicar drew the ceremony to a close with a prayer and asked them to stand, Alex offered her his hand. She took his help up, but when her eyes finally met his, he still saw heartbreak and disappointment in her expression. He felt the same heavy weight she bore and knew he would have a great deal of work to do for them to find some semblance of peace.

They signed the marriage registry, then Alex offered his arm again to Miss Clay, or rather, Mrs. Westcott now. The vicar congratulated them, though the words felt empty. And eventually, they made their way outside onto the steps of the church.

"What a lovely service," the duchess said, with a smile that did not quite reach her cheeks. Surely she recognized what a farce the entire ordeal was.

Norland, it appeared, did not wish to dwell on pleasantries. "We will hold the breakfast party in our home."

"Yes, of course." Then the duchess turned to Emily. "Why don't you ride with Mr. Westcott, dearest?" She spoke lightly, ever so encouragingly.

Emily stiffened but nodded. "Very well."

Once the carriages were brought forward, Alex helped his new wife inside and took his seat across from her, but she did not face him. She had turned decidedly toward the window, so Alex settled in for a silent ride to the duke's townhouse.

As the carriage lurched forward, it did not escape him that she would be returning to her home for the final time; then she would leave with him as his wife. He glanced at her, wondering how he could start a conversation. Did she prefer that he call her Mrs. Westcott? Or Emily? Perhaps resorting even to madam?

Before he could open his mouth to ask her, the smallest whimper drew his attention. She did not speak or look at him, but there was no missing the tear that trickled down her cheek.

"Are you unwell?" Alex asked.

She shook her head, swiftly wiping away the evidence, leaving him unconvinced.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Why did you kiss me?" she whispered .

Alex paused, surprised as she whirled on him with her fiery blue eyes. "Why? That is the only reason we are in this scenario."

Any sympathy he'd felt a moment ago immediately vanished at her accusation. "If I remember correctly, it was because you asked me to."

Her teary eyes narrowed as her cheeks flushed.

"And I am not entirely at fault. You should not have been alone on the balcony."

She scoffed. "Should I give that same advice to the woman whose company you sought as well? Or are you the only man in London who is allowed to be alone with a young woman?"

Alex ground his jaw. "If I had kissed the woman I intended to marry—"

"I am not responsible for your poor sense of timing and lack of direction." Then she crossed her arms and turned back toward the window. "I would much rather have kissed the man I intended to marry as well, instead of marrying you."

So this is what his future would be. Married to a woman who hated him. He was doomed to suffer the same fate as his own parents, locked in a miserable existence for the rest of his days. All because of one regrettable, life-altering kiss.

Perhaps he should have objected to the wedding after all.

All his life had been spent fighting against his father, and when the man died, he fought to protect his family from further gossip and slander. Marrying for love was a rare luxury, as Alex had learned early in life. His parents' arranged marriage was certainly void of it, and it made him all the more determined to see that his sisters married well, with stable and respectable men, but also with affection, so that they would not have to suffer the same fate. That his mother had married a worthy gentleman in her later years was an unforeseen blessing Alex did not take for granted. But now, he was facing the same reality. His own marriage was doomed to become just like that of his parents.

He glanced out the window with a sigh, the sight of dead trees from winter not giving him any glimpse of hope. The world outside was on the brink of springtime, the potential for growth and newness, but his new life would have none of it. Any hope he'd had rested with Miss Frances, and that would never be.

The wedding breakfast at the townhome was nothing how it should have been, accompanied by family and friends who were overjoyed at the union. Instead, it was a quiet, formal affair, with the duchess the only one encouraging discussion. Alex tried to oblige her, but he was not in the most conversational mood, having recently been accused of ruining his new wife's life. The duke and his ward were equally quiet, offering nods or one-word answers when required. They were very alike in that way.

It was nearly midday when the breakfast came to an end. They had no reason to linger, so Alex called for his carriage again. He would return home and try to see if there would be any reasoning with his wife.

The duke and duchess saw them out, along with the nursemaid carrying the duke's young son. Alex bid them all farewell, then waited by the carriage for his wife to follow. She curtsied briefly for the duke, which seemed so distant and cold compared to when she had used his given name while tugging on his arm that night on the balcony. In the next moment, she was wrapped in a loving embrace by the duchess. He could see the duchess whispering things into his wife's ear, who only nodded every so often. Then she pulled back and wiped tears from her eyes.

"Be sure to come and visit once you're settled," the duchess said fervently, while patting her hand.

Alex watched as his wife took the hand of the little boy, who hid his face shyly, clearly not understanding that she was leaving.

"Thank you all for everything," she finally said, her voice wavering as it had before. Then she curtsied again and hurried into the carriage without using the hand Alex offered to help.

Trying to remain civil, Alex gave one final bow.

"Take care of her," the duchess called, pressing a handkerchief to her quivering chin.

"I will do my best, Your Grace," he said, though he wasn't certain how much his best would actually accomplish.

Once he was seated and the carriage again moved forward, Alex let out a sigh. He did not attempt to engage in more conversation if it would end the same way it had before. Perhaps she was merely overwhelmed by the changes of the day, and she would be more accommodating after some rest.

It was a short ride back to his townhome, and when the carriage pulled to a stop, it shook Alex from his thoughts. He straightened in his seat, waiting for the footmen to open the door.

"I have advised the rest of the staff to call you Mrs. Westcott or madam, if that is agreeable to you."

She nodded wordlessly.

"You may call me Alex or Alexander or Westcott or husband, whatever suits you. What would you prefer I call you?"

She sighed. "I have no preference."

Alex clenched his jaw, wanting to sigh himself. Most unhelpful. "Very well."

The footman opened the door and helped both of them out, then Alex led her up the stairs and into the double doors.

In the foyer stood a few of his staff, ready for introductions. "Allow me to introduce my housekeeper, Mrs. Jansen, and my butler, Radcliff. They should be ready to assist with anything."

They bowed and curtsied in greeting.

"And this," he paused, turning to his new bride, "is the new mistress of the home, Mrs. Westcott. Be sure that you see to her every need."

They both nodded.

"Pleased to meet you, madam," Mrs. Jansen stepped forward with a smile. "Your maid has already arrived, and we've shown her upstairs. Perhaps I can give you a tour of the place once you've rested up a bit."

Again, she said nothing in response, just a nod with a forced smile.

"Then I'll show you to your room," Alex said, and she followed him up the stairs.

She did not look around as she walked, and he assumed that was because she did not care. It pricked at his pride, for though he might not live in the most expensive part of town, he was considered a wealthy gentleman. But perhaps this was not extravagant enough for her tastes, coming from living with a duke. Yet she did keep company with the working class, so perhaps he simply did not understand her at all. He still did not know much about her, besides the minimal details he'd learned from Norland. Did she have extravagant taste to go her with her hateful arrogance? Perhaps that would become more evident with time.

At the end of the long corridor, Alex paused. "This is the door for your bedchambers. Mine is just there," he pointed beyond his shoulder, "and there is another connecting door in yours as well, but that can be discussed late—"

"Do not think for one minute that door will be used for any purpose tonight," she snapped.

He was shocked to finally hear her speak again, but the words she chose were too hostile for him to engage properly. "Believe me, that is the last thing on my mind."

"Good, for let me make one thing abundantly clear." She took a step toward him. "You will not touch me unless I allow it, which I assure you will not happen until I am dead."

Alex stiffened. He had certainly not been about to press her on such details right away, but she was speaking definitively. "You would deny me an heir?"

"I was forced into marriage, but I will not be forced into your bed." The anger in her eyes bit at him like a blue flame.

"I have no intention of forcing you to do anything." Alex spoke through clenched teeth. "Might I remind you that I was also forced into this arrangement? I gallantly save your reputation by sacrificing my life to marry you, then I bring you into my home and introduce my staff who will be at your beck and call. What could I have done to deserve such hostility?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "If I must bear with your presence for the rest of my life, then you must deal with mine."

A growl escaped his lips as he ran an exhausted hand over his face. "Lud, you are the most infuriating woman I have ever met." This is not how he had hoped the day would go. "Then let me make one thing abundantly clear to you," Alex said, raising his voice to match hers. "You're welcome to lock yourself up in your room for as long as you wish, as your presence will not be needed or wanted."

She pursed her lips. "Very well." Then opening the bedroom door, she stepped inside and slammed it behind her.

Alex let out a breath that did nothing to relieve the tension in his chest. Perhaps he had gone too far, speaking so harshly, but there was no reasoning with a woman like her. She had been the one drawing the line, not him.

At this rate, it would require a sword and shield to even speak with his own wife.