Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

AUGUSTA

S unlight streams into the window, far more cheerful than my dour mood will allow. Scowling, I turn over onto my side only to have my muscles scream at me in protest. I didn't expect to be so sore, yet as I lie there, testing my limbs, I can't help the tendril of arousal curling in my stomach at the discomfort.

What is wrong with me? I shouldn't like the pain so much. Granted, after talking with the other wives last night, it seems as if I'm not in the minority. Perhaps I'm not bound for Bedlam as I feared? The others seem so well adjusted, so happy.

Perhaps that's where my neurosis lies. I cannot find joy in my affliction as they do. Forcing myself out of the bed, I walk over to the mirror and examine my bottom. For all that the paddle hurt, I only see a faint smattering of marks. If anyone else were to see, they might think it was from my injury 'falling to the floor' from earlier.

Groaning, I drop the edge of my night rail and plop my head into my hands. Portswell is ever so wroth with me. I can feel it. I wish I could have resisted the urge but feeling his fingers sliding into me felt so divine. I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to.

It's so maddening to be beholden to my urges like this. And I know, deep down, I've wounded the man I'm set to marry. It's as if my life continues to spiral out of control and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

"Glad to see you well, Miss."

I turn to face my lady's maid, embarrassment flooding my body. "Yes. Well as can be expected."

"I trust the others made it home safely as well?"

Slumping forward, I shake my head. "It was far later than planned. Is everyone aware?"

"I devised a story for you. It wasn't easy, but no one is the wiser." She puts her hands on my shoulders and peers deep into my eyes. "If you were in trouble, you'd tell me. Right? All is well with you? Truly?"

A soft smile eases up my lips as I lay my hand on hers. "All is well. Today is a happy day. Let us celebrate."

The last thing I want to do is celebrate, but I put on a happy face for the servants as they bustle in and out, bringing in hot water and my clothes. Sinking down into the warm tub feels divine, but I don't enjoy it. Guilt gnaws at my insides as I cleanse my body, preparing myself for a trip down the aisle.

I should be happy. I should be dancing up a storm or singing my joy so loudly it rattles the rafters. Portswell and I had all the makings of a true love match, but now I don't know where I stand. Will he even be there waiting for me at the end of the aisle?

The rest of the morning goes by in a blur. I'm pinched, prodded, made up, and transformed into a vision in my lovely green gown. A hum of excitement travels through the maids as my aunt hobbles into the room with a box in her hand.

"The Duke of Portswell has sent a gift over to you in celebration of your nuptials. I've not peeked out of respect for you, but the box seems very particular."

I grab the slim, long box from her fingers, knowing instantly that it must be a necklace of some sort. Does this mean he's forgiven me? It takes a bit of work to pry the lid off releasing a small note that flutters down. I snatch it up, my lips curving into a smile as I hold it close to my chest.

Shuffling over to my desk, I sit down and skim the contents, my heart sinking with every word.

My Dearest Minx,

I had already purchased this in anticipation of a rather raucous wedding night. Though it appears to be an innocuous necklace, it holds secrets that I was planning to reveal to you after I whisked you away for our honeymoon. Perhaps it will still look lovely around your neck though the true use will not be brought into effect.

It felt dishonorable to deny you the gift, and so I hope it pleases you. It is my wish for you to wear it with your wedding gown, but I do not expect for you to actually obey me. Do whatever you wish with it as it now belongs to you.

Respectably,

Benedict Fortescue,

Duke of Portswell

Tears slip down my nose to splatter against the parchment. Concerned, my aunt rushes over, but I hold the letter close to me where she cannot see.

"Do not be alarmed. My husband-to-be is a kind man who wishes us many decades of happiness." The sighs as they titter around the room tell me my ruse has been believed.

With a false smile, I toss the letter into the fire and watch it burn. The necklace is truly stunning, a mass of silver chains and odd links. Handing it to my aunt, I sit back down at the mirror and watch with a watery smile as she clasps it behind.

"You make a stunning bride, my dear. I only regret that my brother and your mother cannot be here to see it. I'm sure they're watching from heaven and smiling down on this union."

Unable to speak, I merely nod and dab at my eyes. There's not a dry face in the entire room, which makes it far easier to hide my tears amongst theirs.

"I also regret that Greyson is not in attendance. I do hope he's all right."

"Your brother is made of the sternest stuff in all creation," Aunt Amelia says, her smile growing wider. "He is, no doubt, right as rain."

The church is indeed beautiful, a festoon of greens and whites. Flowers, vines, and bushes decorate every square inch, turning it into something akin to a fairytale. In all rights, it should be a fairytale. Unfortunately, it seems to be my greatest nightmare.

The Duke of Whiteport stands next to me, ready to escort me down the aisle in my brother's stead. Nothing about this is right or correct. It should be Greyson next to me.

In hindsight, I probably should have thought of that before trapping the duke… But then, if Greyson were home, it would probably have been a bit harder to do. I look up at Whiteport, noting the grim thin line of his lips.

"You think me a monster, don't you?"

He looks down at me, his expression softening a touch. "It matters not what I think. I am not the one marrying you."

I'm sure he meant his words to be reassuring, but all they do is hurt all the more. "I understand."

With a soft sigh, he coaxes me to look at him. "I am not privy to everything between the two of you, but I do know you drive the man to distraction. No one else has ever managed such a feat."

I should be elated at his words, but all it does is highlight just how badly I've ruined everything. Looking back at the entrance I'm to walk through, I force myself to keep a bright smile. It will only make things worse if people think I was forced, kicking and screaming, to walk toward my groom.

As we prepare to step forward, a loud clatter startles Whiteport and me. He whirls about, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword. Dread threads through me for a moment until a familiar face appears.

"I believe it is my duty to walk my sister down the aisle. As grateful as I am, I'd like to take my post."

Whiteport grins at my brother and pats him on the shoulder. "I shall leave you to it."

Greyson gazes down at me, his expression unreadable. "Are you happy?"

"O- of course I am. How can you ask such a question?"

His eyes narrow as he searches my face. "Do not lie to me, little sister. Your happiness is paramount to me."

"I- I fear I've made a bit of a mess of things, but I know Portswell will make me happy. "

"He better," he grinds out, offering me his arm. "If the man knows what's good for him, he better."

The music swells, cutting off the rest of our conversation. But truly, what else is there to say? My heart pounds in my chest as he takes me forward, forcing me down the aisle one step at a time.

Portswell stands there, waiting for me, his lips pressed in a thin line. He doesn't look angry, but he doesn't seem happy either. When Greyson hands me over to him, I can't help but feel a tendril of fear for the first time.

What if this doesn't work out? What if he continues to despise me? What if…

My mind goes in circles, refusing to stop as I repeat my vows. Glancing over at those attending, I watch as the ladies shift about in the pews, their expressions rather uncomfortable. It gnaws at me to know I had a hand in their discomfort.

If only I had said no. But then, there would probably be some other misfortune to blacken this day. The only reprieve would be that the burden would be mine to bear and mine alone.

"I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Portswell leans forward and pulls me closer to him. His hot breath scalds my skin as he closes the gap between us. Closing my eyes, I sigh, happy to have him touching me again. But his lips merely brush my skin as he grazes our lips together in a chaste kiss and pulls back.

Though the others cheer, my heart cracks in two. Gone is the heated passion that blazed between us like a fire that refused to be doused. He greets me almost as if we were family. His little sister.

Though he had said that to me in jest, that's exactly how he treats me. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel as a bride, but it can't be like this. He wraps my hand around his arm and leads us out into the street. Many shout their congratulations and well wishes, but they fall on deaf ears.

He helps me into the landau and takes a seat next to me and remains silent. Before it can pull away, my brother hops in with us and sits across from Portswell, his lips thinned in aggravation. Thankfully, he waits until we pull away from the others to begin talking.

"Did I not give explicit instructions?"

I look over at my brother, confusion muddling my thoughts.

"You did," Portswell responds, his tone taking on a bored air.

"And? How is it you are now wed to my sister after I told you not to?"

"You will have to ask her that, as I had no hand in this affair."

Greyson turns to me, his eyes wide. "This was your doing?"

I straighten my shoulders, irritation flooding my system. "I felt as if we would make a brilliant match. I sought him. He is now my husband."

His mouth drops open and hangs agape. "But you know nothing of him."

"Oh come off it," I seethe. "We all grew up together. I can't think of another man better suited for me."

Shaking his head, he gives Portswell a deadly glare. "I should meet you at dawn with pistols, but I cannot find it in me to stay mad at my best friend. My sister, however, is dear to me. Harm her and-"

"And what? She is now my wife. You have no claim on her person anymore. Once we finish the breakfast, you and I can hash out your expectations. Other than that, there is nothing else to say."

"I implore you to make her happy."

"That much is evident."