Chapter 13

“Here, here. These are the last of the arrangements.” Althea rushed into the room, waving two or three letters in the air.

Grace looked around from where she and Tabitha were putting together flower bouquets for the wedding. Tabitha’s arrangement was much more beautiful than Grace’s own attempt though she said nothing.

Althea stopped beside the table though, her happy smile sliding out of place.

“Oh dear, Grace, that will not do. Tabitha, you must show her how to do hers again. A duchess cannot carry this thing down the aisle.” She pointed miserably at Grace’s attempt.

Grace dropped the flowers and rested her chin in her hand, turning to look at the letters which her mother had placed on the table.

“A duchess doesn’t sit like that either,” Althea warned.

“I was hoping a duchess could do as she likes,” Grace muttered though her mother didn’t hear what she said.

“These are the letters from the Duke. All the arrangements are here. See? Take a look.” Althea thrust them into Grace’s grasp.

Grace read the letters which were all addressed to her father. It seemed strange to her that it had been five days since she had last seen the Duke, and he had not once called on her. Neither had he sent her a letter. Every message he had sent had been addressed to her father, and each one was formally signed with his full title.

Grace sighed, sitting back in her chair.

“A duchess doesn’t slouch either,” Althea added tartly, reaching forward for Grace’s bouquet and tearing the string off which she had used to bind it.

Tabitha offered up an apologetic look for Althea’s tart words. Grace managed the smallest of smiles back.

“I thought he might have come,” Grace whispered.

“What was that?” Althea asked.

“Nothing.”

Grace wasn’t sure if the Duke had stayed away because he didn’t intend for them to transgress again before the wedding or if he meant something else by it. Her eyes scanned the letters her mother had brought her, taking in every detail for the wedding.

It was to be held in two days’ time at a chapel in the heart of London. Only a few friends and family members were to be invited. They would then all be invited back to his country estate on the edge of London for the wedding breakfast. It was to be a formal and traditional affair with the full breakfast, dancing, and toasts.

“He does things by tradition, doesn’t he?” Grace observed as she passed the letters for Tabitha to see too.

“He’s a duke,” Tabitha murmured. “I suppose he has expectations of him. Ways that he must act.”

It’s why he wants an heir, isn’t it? He needs an heir to the dukedom.

The memory of his lips searing her skin with heat that night in the carriage broke through. Absentmindedly, she raised her hand and placed her fingers to her neck, brushing the spot where he had marked her. Now five days later, the mark was gone, but she had worn another high-necked gown for she knew her mother would dislike it if she did not.

Maybe in time, he won’t just be Eleanor’s elder brother. He will be my husband.

Yet as she took the letters back from Tabitha and read the cool distant tone in those letters, a louder voice in her mind told her she was mistaken. The Duke may be interested in an heir, but that was probably the only reason why he had pushed things so much in that carriage.

Perhaps he fears I’d carry another man’s child instead of his own.

She put the letters down on the table, strangely out of sorts just at the mere thought of being with another man in such a way.

“Now, the gown will arrive this evening.” Althea was now helping Tabitha put Grace’s bouquet back together as she talked. “It was a rush to have it made in such a short space of time, but it will have to do. It’s all we could have done in the timeframe.”

“Very well.” Grace nodded. Seeing her mother had taken over the task of the bouquet entirely, Grace reached for her discarded book nearby and opened it, ready to read again. It was a book on botany and plants. It did not last long in her grasp before her mother snatched it away.

“I hope you are prepared for this wedding, Grace.” Althea then nodded at Tabitha. “Perhaps it’s best, Tabitha, if you give Grace some instructions this evening on how to carry herself at the wedding. Lord knows I will want the chapel floor to open up and swallow me whole if you trip on your wedding gown and fall flat on your face.”

“Thank you, Mama, for that vote of confidence.”

Tabitha smiled in a rather sorry way and patted Grace’s hand softly.

“I am sure the Duke of Berkley is marrying her because he likes her as she is.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Tabitha.” Althea waved this thought away with one of the flowers. “He’s marrying her because he has to. If you want to be a good duchess, Grace, then you must learn how to be one. Now, take that.” Having finished the bouquet, she pushed it back into Grace’s grasp. “Let’s see you walking up and down the room as if you are walking the aisle.”

“Is this necessary?” Grace asked with a sigh.

Althea’s harsh look was enough of an answer without words.

* * *

“He’s here,” Grace whispered to herself as she looked out of the window. The maid had left so that only she and Tabitha were still in the room. Tabitha was fussing with the bouquets again as Grace pulled and shifted the wedding gown around her, angered at it.

Pressing her face close to the window, Grace peered down at the Duke of Berkley.

It was the morning of the wedding. As per tradition, he had come to call on her father, but he had not asked to see her. He now parted from the house, reaching toward a carriage that waited for him.

Grace’s eyes were hungry for the sight of him. She couldn’t peel herself back from the glass as she stared at him. He was tall and impressive in his midnight blue suit with a dark black waistcoat. The cravat, alabaster white, was a contrast to the richness of the suit. There wasn’t a crease in his appearance, and his hair had been trimmed perfectly for the day.

How shameful I will look at the side of him.

As he climbed into the carriage without looking up to her window and vanished from view, she retreated into the chamber, struggling with the long train of the gown. She pulled at the frilly neck too. It was so high today that it had a strangling hold upon her, reaching up to her chin.

“How strange it is,” Tabitha murmured from where she fiddled with the flowers.

“What is?”

“Well, it’s unheard of for a groom not to call on his bride until today, isn’t it?” Tabitha asked in a horrified whisper. She put the bouquet down and stood, moving to stand beside Grace, so they could both look in the standing mirror together as Grace fidgeted with the dress.

“Why should he come?” Grace asked, feeling defensive. “He is marrying me out of duty, after all. Nothing more. I should not have expected him to come.”

I did though. I had hoped for it.

She pulled sharply at the frilly neck again, remembering the way he had torn the last high-necked dress in order to get to her.

“I am so worried for you,” Tabitha said in the softest of tones. Grace softened her own expression, smiling sadly at her cousin the mirror.

“Do not worry for me.”

“But I do. If he is unkind to you, if you do not like him, you know you could ask for an annulment, don’t you?” Tabitha suggested.

An annulment?

Grace hadn’t even considered the idea. Not many married couples had their marriages annulled. Such things were usually followed by scandal and supposition, but it was a possibility. It was an option she hadn’t even considered.

“No one would allow it,” Grace replied after a few seconds of quiet thought.

“They would, if you…” Tabitha hesitated, glancing at the closed door, clearly checking that no one was going to walk in on them before she said anymore. “If you avoid your duties tonight.”

“Oh. Oh.” Grace exclaimed in understanding. Tabitha was suggesting that she avoid the Duke of Berkley’s bed. If the marriage was not consummated, they could then have an annulment. Grace laughed a second later which made Tabitha’s eyes widen.

“You could do it, Grace.”

“Perhaps.” Grace tried her best not to laugh, for she thought it a wild idea.

The Duke of Berkley has every intention of consummating this marriage.

The way he had spoken so possessively, how he had marked her skin, it was plain that he intended to claim her body that night.

I am not sure I could refuse him.

She remembered shamefully how she had pressed her hips against his and pleaded for him to touch her in that carriage. Her body had acted of her own accord, shouting down every dissenting voice in her mind.

“Are you in there, Grace?” Eleanor’s voice suddenly called from outside the door.

“Can we come in yet!” Violet cried.

“Yes, or we might all break down the door soon enough,” Celia added.

“You can come in,” Grace called.

Her friends all hurried in. Diana was the first, hastening to Grace’s side followed by the others.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” Tabitha whispered and left.

“Well, the day is here,” Eleanor declared then she halted a few steps from Grace. “Oh…”

“Oh indeed,” Celia said with wide eyes. “Grace, what on earth are you wearing?”

“You look… nice,” Diana said feebly, pulling at the baggy sleeves of the gown and trying her best to smile.

“I look like a sack of potatoes.” Grace’s words cut through the tension in the room. Her friends laughed and shook their heads. “Is this actually how I will have to get married today? I look awful.”

She turned back to face the mirror. The gown had been entirely of her mother’s choosing. The high neckline was insufferable, the material cloying, hiding every part of her larger figure, and it swamped her.

“You do rather look like you’re drowning in lace,” Violet added, only to get swiped by her sister who urged her into silence.

“What am I going to do?” Grace asked as she looked back at her reflection and fidgeted with the material.

She could well imagine what the Duke would make of a dress like this. He had once called one of her gowns ridiculous.

Maybe he will not want to bed me if I wear this?

“There are frills everywhere,” Diana said, trying her best to keep horror out of her tone though Grace heard it anyway.

“Look at these cuffs.” Eleanor raised one of Grace’s wrists and flapped her hand. The excessive hanging lace waved in the air. “It looks like you are about to take flight.”

“This won’t do,” Celia murmured and stepped forward. With her hands on her hips, she circled around Grace. “For God’s sake, why does your mother insist on hiding your good figure?”

“What figure?” Grace scoffed. “I am neither slim nor regal in my posture. When my mother looks at me, she sees someone too plump and frumpy. She tries to hide it with dresses like this.” She picked at the skirt in an unfriendly way.

“Plump!?” Violet scoffed.

“I know.” Celia agreed with a nod. “I know many women who would kill to have a chest like yours, Grace.”

“A what?” Grace looked down at her own chest. She had rather large breasts though they were currently completely masked by all the frills.

“I think it’s time we showed off your figure to its best, what do you say?” Celia tapped her chin in thought.

“We have an hour until Grace has to leave,” Diana muttered nervously, glancing at the clock.

“Great, then you be on watching the clock, Diana, to make sure we’re not late.” Celia looked around her. “Grace, you must have an embroidery box here somewhere.”

“Embroidery? You should see my attempts.” She rolled her eyes. It was another point of upset for her mother. Althea wanted a daughter who could embroider as beautifully as Tabitha could. “Anything I make ends up looking like a cat has got hold of the needle and thread.”

“But you have scissors in your sewing box, yes?” Celia said.

“Oh, yes.” She pointed to where she had unceremoniously stuffed the box under her bed, out of sight. Celia retrieved it with Eleanor at her side, and the two began to retrieve the scissors and various bits of thread.

“What are you doing to do?” Grace asked as Celia moved back toward her.

“We can’t do anything about this skirt,” Violet murmured. “We haven’t got enough time. Though we could make it into a bustle.” She caught the long train and gathered it behind Grace’s rear. “That’s better.”

“Ideal. Pin it, and we’ll do that next,” Celia said with a wave of her hand. Eleanor offered up a tin of pins to Violet who promptly got to work. “I’ll start with all these frills.” Celia came somewhat dangerously toward Grace with the scissors.

“Careful what you’re doing with those things,” Grace murmured with humor. “I’d like my head intact for the wedding.”

“Ha! Not to worry. I’m simply going to make sure that groom of yours knows exactly what he’s getting in his bride. Let’s allow him to see a little more of you, shall we?” Celia took the scissors to the high neckline and the frills. It took three cuts before the oversized neck fell away, revealing a deep neckline which hugged the fitted bodice of the dress.

“Well, I know one good thing that will come from this day,” Eleanor said with satisfaction as she stood beside Celia who continued to cut other frills away.

“What’s that?” Grace asked as Eleanor adjusted the bodice a little, so the top curves of Grace’s breasts were now even more prominent than before.

“We might give your mother a heart attack when you walk down that aisle.”

Grace and the others burst into a fit of giggles.

Turning her head back to the mirror, Grace watched as her friends worked, and a new gown slowly began to appear. In truth, she didn’t care what her mother would think of the dress. Her mind was plagued with other thoughts entirely.

I wonder what the Duke of Berkley will make of it.