Chapter 18
All of this simply felt inevitable.
Isla sat on the bench in the garden, trying to breathe. Was this not bound to happen? Since she had announced she was marrying the Duke of Westvale, it only made sense that an actual wedding was meant to take place.
And yet…
She glanced down at her hands in her lap and prayed for them to stop shaking. Once upon a time, she thought she had known everything. But she was growing up in the world and was finally realizing how little she knew. And today, well, she felt quite foolish.
What if this is all a mistake? I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. Whatever confidence the duke has in me must be severely misplaced. I’m not a mother and I’m not a duchess. I don’t know how to be either of those.
“There is the bride!”
Jumping, Isla grabbed her skirts before realizing it was just her sister. She exhaled and put a hand over her heart, sitting back down.
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Nervous?”
“Not at all,” Isla said. She tried to smile.
The look on her sister’s face said it wasn’t at all convincing. “You’ll have to work harder on that expression, whatever it is you think you are doing. I have never seen you so nervous before, Isla. What is it? Cold feet before the wedding?”
“I’m afraid so.” She scooted over to make room for Margaret and the young woman took her seat. Swallowing hard, she managed a tentative smile. “What if this is all a mistake?”
“Do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you!”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I’m not the one going to be married at the end of the day. My opinion doesn’t matter.”
Frowning, Isla said, “Yes, it does. You’re my sister.”
“Very well. You want the truth of it, Isla?” Margaret clasped her hands together and faced her straight on. “You have found yourself an eligible duke who is rich, generous, and agreeable. I don’t think there is such a thing as a better match than that. Only a fool would turn down such an offer.”
“But I am a fool.” Isla groaned. “It’s hardly even a proper marriage.”
Margaret scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Once again Isla found herself sharing secrets, unable to manage the weight of them on her shoulders any longer. She explained about Oliver and the truth of Ronan’s offer. Their union was practical and in name only, nothing more.
“Really?” Margaret asked when she fell quiet.
“Really.”
She didn’t know what to think when her sister fell silent.
Twisting her hands about, she knew she was taking awful care of her gloves.
Lovely white satin and lace gloves that Ronan had purchased.
Then there was the pale green gown she wore that came from him as well.
What a traitor she felt like to wear his gifts, and all the while consider refusing the impending union.
Even as we are committing ourselves to each other, we are doing so as strangers. He doesn’t care for me in the way I had hoped for a husband might. What if he sets me up in a house and never sees me again? What sort of life awaits me once his duchess?
Coughing lightly, Margaret asked her tentatively, “Do you want this marriage… or do you simply feel you have no other choice?”
This returned them to the conversations they had endured over the last couple of weeks. Isla simply didn’t know what to do. There was no perfect avenue for her future, and it was awfully frustrating.
“I don’t know that I have any good choices,” she muttered.
Even with Ronan’s generosity––the gifts and the servants and the goods––their family’s situation remained dire. What little money they still had would eventually run out. If Isla didn’t do something to help her family, then they would become destitute.
What else could she do? Marry someone else? Go to their aunt?
The woman was only a last resort, and not one Isla desired. She didn’t want to take the charity of another. But surely this was what she was doing with Ronan. He had said aloud what she had tried to hide, that her family could use his financial protection.
Besides, if she became a duchess, it would further elevate and support her sisters for their futures.
I suppose I don’t really have a choice after all. I only wish… I only wish Ronan cared. Just a little more. Sometimes he looks at me and I feel as though he might. But our marriage is just a partnership, he said. That’s all it is.
“You shouldn’t do what will make you unhappy,” Margaret murmured.
Slowly shaking her head, Isla felt uneasily but knew the choice was still made for her. After she inhaled deeply, she stood up.
“I will marry him,” she decided.
It was a choice she had to make repeatedly and would do so as long as it would take, she told herself.
Standing, Margaret eyed her curiously. “You’re certain?”
“Certainly. At least this way, we’ll have a future to look forward to. Not just for me, but for you and Lacey. He’s already told me he’ll provide for everyone. There is no romance or future children in my future, unfortunately, but… this is for the best.”
Her sister took her hand with a hopeful smile. “Very well, Isla. I promise I will support you no matter what happens. I swear it.”
“Thank you,” Isla whispered. “Shall we hie to the church, then?”
“Aye.”
Off they went after collecting their sister and mother. A carriage, very finely made, was brought to them with a driver and tiger who promised to ensure their safe delivery to the small church on the cusp of London where they were to marry.
It was a small church where Ronan was already waiting. He finished talking with the priest before moving toward them. There was no one seated in his side of the pews.
“Good afternoon,” he said to her and then her family. “How was the journey?”
“Oh, how very pleasant was our ride,” her mother beamed brightly. “Never have I enjoyed such a ride. It was well cushioned and very smooth.”
Lacey pouted. “No one would describe the views.”
“I tried,” Isla said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Privately she appreciated her sister’s bad mood since it helped her forget to be nervous. She looked to Ronan. “Apparently I don’t do it quite as well as you.”
He gave a slow nod. “Perhaps soon we can enjoy another carriage ride together, Lacey. In the meantime, I believe we have an appointment?”
That was what he called their marriage. An appointment.
Not romantic, but that is the price I am paying for this. It shouldn’t be so awful. Oliver is a charming child. Ronan can be charming too when he tries. Even if we cannot love one another, at least… at least we might be friends. I hope.
Isla swallowed. The nerves started to rise as she accepted his proffered arm. Down the aisle they walked. She appreciated his large stature as he emanated warmth to ward off the day’s chill. Behind them, her family took their seats, and she stood in front with Ronan.
Please don’t ignore me after this.
“Welcome,” the priest said to her with a warm smile. He opened the Common Book of Prayer. “Very well, let us begin.”
It was a perfunctory sort of affair. No music and no flowers.
They didn’t have any other guests beyond her family.
She wore her prettiest dress, in the hopes of…
well, she didn’t know what. To feel pretty?
To hope Ronan admired her? Isla listened to the pounding of her heart that grew so loud that he had to nudge her when it came time for her to speak.
“Oh, yes. I accept. I mean, I do,” Isla stammered.
Ronan studied her thoughtfully. Long enough that a warm blush crept up her cheeks.
It wouldn’t be awful being married to someone as handsome as he was. If only there was something more between them, she wished. Sometimes it felt like there was a spark. Between his protective nature and the occasional smile, Isla knew they got along well most of the time.
I must stop wishing for more. That is all. Already I know he is not the type to hurt me or be cruel. He will not have mistresses nor embarrass me. Perhaps that will be enough. To be able to protect my family, that must be enough. It must be. Whatever comes of this union, I shall be glad.
“And I pronounce you man and wife.” The book snapped shut.
Isla inhaled deeply. She was still staring up at Ronan, she realized, and they both smiled. She was a duchess now. She was married.
“Congratulations,” he murmured.
“What a lucky gentleman you are,” she mustered in a smile. “Whatever shall we do with ourselves now?”