Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

C iara said I do without really meaning it. How could she promise to love and cherish someone she didn't know, someone who willingly and purposely placed her in this situation? She could never mean it under such circumstances. But as always, one had to pretend.

"So lovely… congratulations… all the best to the newlywed couple… the new duchess… long and prosperous… many children…" The good wishes kept pouring during and after the wedding breakfast held at Silverbrook Hall, Jonathan's main residence in the country which was also to be her new home. How strange that felt.

However, what was even stranger was the moment when her parents walked up to her and her husband, wanting to offer their own wishes for the newlyweds.

"Your Grace," the Viscount bowed respectfully, and as he bowed, Ciara caught a glimpse of his bald head which he was trying his best to hide by combing his remaining hair to the side, creating a ridiculous look.

She remembered how fearful and tall he used to seem, mountainous even, but now, they were almost the same height.

"Viscount Hartfield," Jonathan nodded respectfully, "how nice of you to attend."

"Yes, we had some business matters to attend to, but nothing was more important than this event," the Viscount said, his voice dripping like venomous honey, threatening to drown anyone it touched. Ciara felt nauseated. The amount of lies in that statement was astonishing.

"Your Grace," Ciara's mother interjected, "congratulations. You honor us by choosing our daughter as your bride. We know that there are so many other ladies of the ton far more suitable for a man of your grandeur, and yet, in your endless kindness, you have chosen the black sheep of our family." Her mother turned to her with a look of scorn. "You have no idea how hard we've tried with her to make sure she grew up into a fine young woman. We have done everything in our power, everything! And yet, I feel that we have failed… that we have failed you as her future husband," she said, suddenly bursting into sobs which she tried to hide in her husband's embrace.

"You must forgive my wife, Your Grace," the Viscount said, gently embracing his trembling wife. "This is all very emotional for us. You have made us so happy."

Ciara's mother then pulled away from her husband's arms, her thin lips pursed, her eyes wide with gravity. "But despite everything, I believe that Ciara will be a good wife to you, Your Grace. I know that she hasn't forgotten everything we have taught her."

Ciara looked at Jonathan, incredulous at her parents' behavior. He seemed confused by the charade he was witnessing, and she could only hope that he could see through it. However, if he was like everyone else, then it was easy to fall into their trap.

Her parents had always played their roles perfectly. She was the child that was to be ashamed of, and they were the good parents who were to be blamed for nothing, other than doing everything in their power to bring her back onto the right path. She wanted to scream about the injustice that had been done to her, but she knew it would serve absolutely no purpose.

"Thank you, Viscount," Jonathan nodded, perplexed that they were addressing only him and not their daughter.

That was when Ciara's mother pulled away from her husband, wiping the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief that seemed to have magically appeared in her hand. She always had a flair for the theatrics which only heightened the effect of their drama.

"As for you, young lady, consider yourself extremely fortunate that His Grace forgave you for your past," her mother said in a scornful tone. "Not many men would."

My past? Ciara almost gasped. What about his? He is the rake here! But she wisely decided to keep those thoughts to herself.

"You need to make sure that you are a good wife and a good duchess," her mother urged with an outstretched index finger, just like she had when Ciara was a little girl and she had done yet another transgression. "You know what the punishment for mistakes is, Ciara. Hopefully, you have learned at least that much."

"Come now, Bridget," the voice of Uncle Brendan sounded off somewhere behind them, and Ciara immediately felt relieved. "This is a wedding, a joyful occasion. Or have you forgotten what those are like in your quest for perfection?"

Ciara could see the look of utter shock on her mother's face. Uncle Brendan was her mother's brother, and he never missed seizing a chance to show her that he was on his niece's side, not on hers.

"I have always been on a quest for perfection, and it is exactly because I have been so bold to demand it of myself and of others that I have been able to obtain so much," she replied, trying to obtain an air of aloofness, but it was obvious that her brother's words struck a chord with her. "Then again, not all of us are able to obtain it."

"Perfection is dull anyway." Uncle Brendan turned to Ciara and her husband. "My mother always taught us to be ourselves, not to be perfect. You know that as well as I do, Bridget."

He glanced at his sister, and Ciara knew that he was expecting a response from her.

"I don't see what Mother has to do with this," Ciara's mother said, thinly veiling her outrage.

"Our mother was there for Ciara when you were not in your everlasting pursuit of… perfection, was it?" Uncle Brendan said somehow victoriously. "She taught Ciara to be herself, even when that seemed to be the wrong thing to do. But being true to yourself… only the bold ones can do that, not that I expect you to know much about boldness, Bridget, my dear. You were always too busy assimilating yourself into your surroundings, preferring the safe option."

"Mother taught her silly things like believing in fairy tales," Ciara's mother scoffed. "No one has any use of fairy tales."

Ciara begged to differ. She had many stories from the nunnery when her grandmother's tales and legends were her only means of remaining sane, but now was not the moment to go back to that dark place. She promised herself she would never return, and she meant it. Returning, even if only in her thoughts, was difficult enough as it was.

"Fairy tales are a wonderful thing," Ciara dared to speak. "She lulled me to sleep with them, and I will never forget her kind and compassionate spirit."

"I wish she taught you other things as well," her mother scoffed.

Ciara bit her tongue before stating that it was a mother's job to teach her child everything it needed to know to be a good human being.

"Like perfection?" Uncle Brendan interjected, steering the conversation back. "We were not made to be perfect. I, you, Ciara my dear, and even you, Your Grace. As such, we are prone to mistakes, but sometimes, those mistakes end up being serendipitous chances in which fate works. Don't you agree?"

Ciara wasn't certain who he was referring to, but Jonathan was the first one to respond. "I couldn't agree more, Lord Hopwich. I have never been a man of perfection myself."

Ciara almost chuckled at the words. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that he said those words to contradict her mother, who was taken aback by the comment.

"Well, yes, of course," her mother added, clearing her throat. "I did not mean perfection in every aspect of one's life. Just… generally, you know?"

"Yes, I'm sure His Grace knows, Bridget," Uncle Brendan nodded, taking Ciara's hand into his own and squeezing it tightly, a sign of his support. He always knew what to do and say to make her feel better. "Now, I am certain that they have better things to do after a wedding breakfast than entertain us old folks. We should leave them so their new life can finally commence."

"Yes, of course," Ciara's mother nodded, locking arms with her husband. Ciara could see that they didn't like how that conversation turned out. They didn't like it one bit, and it made Ciara feel glad that not everyone fell for their theatrics.

"Thank you again for coming," Ciara managed to muster. "I look forward to seeing you soon, Uncle."

"Of course, my dear." Uncle Brendan embraced her tightly. "Just because you are married now doesn't mean that you will get rid of me that easily."

"The thought never crossed my mind, Uncle," she smiled, feeling relieved.

Her father offered Jonathan his hand, and Jonathan shook it. When her father leaned closer to her, she flinched, unconsciously taking a step back.

"Your presence was… appreciated," she said, unable to choose another word.

Her mother smiled, but there was malice behind that smile which made it even worse as it came from a mother. At least, from someone who was supposed to be one even if she never possessed the qualities of one.

"Goodbye, Ciara, my child," her mother said, using that painful reminder of them being connected forever. "Do behave yourself."

"I always do, Mother," she said through clenched teeth, swallowing heavily. She could not wait for them to leave.

That was when Jonathan gently nudged her elbow, turning to her. "Ciara, my dear, there is someone else who wishes to say goodbye," he said, pointing at Adeline.

"Goodbye," Ciara said, turning away from her parents and allowing Jonathan to lead her to her friend, feeling as if a huge burden had just been lifted off her back.

"I never thought I would see the day, old boy," Hector spoke in a whisper as the two men huddled away from the rest of the remaining party. Jonathan gave Ciara a moment alone with her best friend, deciding to seize one for himself as well.

"I know," he whispered back as their gazes followed the small group of people that were left, readying to leave as well. "Pigs must have taken flight somewhere in the world."

Hector chuckled at his phrase. Jonathan had to chuckle himself because he still couldn't believe what was happening.

"It is like a dream," Jonathan said cautiously.

"You mean, a nightmare?" Hector corrected him.

"Mhm," Jonathan said although it wasn't entirely true. "I am hoping that a part of it might actually be a dream… in bed."

Hector glanced at his friend. "Oh," he chuckled again. "I see you haven't changed."

"One signature cannot do that," Jonathan clarified. "This is just… an adjustment."

"A minor inconvenience?" Hector teased as the two men spoke quietly, not wishing anyone to overhear them.

"Not even an inconvenience," Jonathan admitted.

"Marrying an oblate? How can it be anything other than that?" Hector sounded incredulous.

"There is something about her, Hector," Jonathan whispered, turning closer to his friend. "I told you about kissing her. And that kiss… it enflamed me more than that Spanish opera singer."

Hector's eyes widened in shock. "You can't mean Arabella Ortiz?"

"The same one," Jonathan nodded.

He had bedded that woman years ago, and yet, the passion and skill of that woman was something Jonathan had been retelling to his friend on many an occasion.

"You cannot mean that." Hector still couldn't believe it.

"You know me, Hector," Jonathan grinned. "I don't say things I don't mean."

Hector whistled as they both turned in the direction where Ciara was standing with her friend. "Perhaps her friend kisses in the same manner?" Hector asked with a curious smirk.

Jonathan chuckled. "You may try, old boy."

Hector raised an inquisitive eyebrow, not taking his eyes off Adeline. "To tell you honestly, I might take you up on that."

Jonathan nodded amusedly. "Are you interested in a marriage of convenience yourself?"

"God no!" Hector frowned, his eyes widening as if he had just witnessed the worst horrors of hell. "I was just thinking of stealing a few kisses, maybe feeling the inside of her?—"

"Shhh!" Jonathan elbowed his friend hastily the moment he noticed the girls turning to them, and Ciara waving at him with a smile.

Hector raised an eyebrow at his friend, only to burst into a chuckle. "You have already been hen-pecked I see, and you've been married what… a mere hour?"

"Hen-pecked, my arse," Jonathan teased him back. "If you want any chance of kissing her friend, you'd better be on your best behavior, my devilish friend."

As soon as he said those words, the two girls embraced, bidding each other farewell, and Ciara started to walk in their direction.

"You know me," Hector grinned, speaking in a very low tone of voice. "I can be very good when I need to be."

"Yes, that is what I am afraid of." Jonathan resisted a chuckle since Ciara was already within earshot.

"Ah, the new duchess," Hector bowed respectfully. "You are lovely, my dear, and the whole wedding was so… wonderful."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Ciara smiled with a courteous curtsey.

Jonathan gave his friend a quick glance. He knew Hector well enough to know that his friend had never described a wedding as a wonderful event, but Ciara had actually taken his words to be true.

"Yes, Hector was just leaving," Jonathan urged. "Weren't you, old boy?"

Hector lifted an eyebrow. "I was?" He paused for a moment then he nodded. "Why yes, I was. All the guests are leaving, aren't they?" He bowed once again before Ciara, taking her hand and kissing it in a chaste manner. "Thank you for having me, Your Grace."

Jonathan winced at the title. He only noticed now that Hector was the first person to call her that.

It made him realize that it wasn't a dream. He was truly married to this siren. And now, a titillating question remained which was whether she would allow him into the depths of her bedchamber where he would explore her body in more ways than he could imagine. He had to admit that he had never been so desirous of a woman before. Perhaps it was simply a matter of being forced to wait, of being denied the pleasure that he would usually obtain after a bit of effort.

But she was different, his siren. Different in so many ways, and he couldn't wait to start exploring the depths of his desire for her.