Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“Breathe, sister,” Daniel murmured beside her. She was glad that he was there, being the best protective brother there ever could be. “You’re beautiful and have nothing to worry about.”
While his words comforted her, the church still loomed before her, intimidating, grey, and solemn.
The bells tolled, announcing that now was the time to make this commitment before God and those gathered witnesses.
Around her, the scent of flowers, pine, and damp stone mingled in the air.
Somehow, her feet dared disobey her. They could not move.
“Of course, you’ll say that, Daniel,” she jested. “You are my brother, after all.”
He smiled, then, looking both tired and fond. Perhaps even a little sad. “It’s the truth, though, Daphne. Also do remember that whatever happens after today, you are still my sister. You can come to me when you need me.”
“I know,” she whispered, nodding.
“I am serious, Daphne. Listen hard. You will always have me when you need me,” he said earnestly.
Again, the look of guilt passed over his face. Apparently, there were things that he could not forgive himself about his conduct and were still bothering him.
“You’ve done enough. You’ve done so much,” she reassured him. They embraced, as if trying to hold on to that moment before she finally promised to be the Duke’s wife until death parted them.
“Not nearly enough,” he said, as he drew back from her. “I wish I could give you more than this. Give you what you have always dreamed of.”
“Dreams are so papery thin and flimsy, Daniel,” Daphne said softly, her heart breaking even as she attempted a smile. “This is real life. We are together, and that’s what matters.”
“Let’s make the most of today, then,” he replied, even as his eyes searched her face, perhaps searching for any resistance on her part. She willed her stubborn feet to shuffle forward so that Daniel would not misinterpret her hesitancy and image that she had changed her mind.
When she didn’t say anything to suggest she wanted out of her impending marriage, he offered his arm. Together, they ascended the church steps.
Inside, the church seemed magical in its own practical way. Candles glowed and sunlight peeked through frosty windows. There weren’t many people beyond immediate family, with the wedding meant to be a close-knit affair and not a public spectacle.
Daphne noticed the Nicholsons, with the Reverend directly grinning at her and his wife dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Her family was there, of course, for better or for worse.
Meanwhile, there were barely any people on the Duke’s side, the most notable of whom was Lord Amberwell, whom she recognized immediately.
Over the years, she had heard much gossip about the handsome lord. He was tall and blond, and his features were striking. There was a lazy grin on his face that spoke of his amusement.
Apparently, judging by his placement near the altar, Lord Amberwell was also her groom’s closest friend. Seated near him were a few men who wore black and white and could possibly be members of the Duke’s staff.
Then Daphne saw him, following the murmurs of the guests.
The Duke of Wolfcrest was already there by the altar, standing tall and straight. His dark coat and cravat made his already handsome figure even more attractive. She was struck by how much more attractive he looked than she remembered, despite having seen him just a week earlier.
Their gazes met, and in that moment, it was as if everything else, the sights and sounds within the church—disappeared. All that was left was a buzzing bubble encasing them. She had to remind herself to keep her composure. She didn’t want the papers to report that Wolfcrest had married a mad woman.
“Steady,” Daniel murmured, anchoring her with his voice. He walked slowly, edging Daphne toward her groom.
Each step toward Wolfcrest felt agonizingly slow, moving with the beating of her heart. When they finally reached the altar, Daniel took her hand and placed it in the Duke’s. Her groom bowed to acknowledge the gesture, his hand firm and steady under hers.
“Your Grace,” Daniel said.
“My lord,” was the Duke’s response. “I promise to take care of her. To protect her.”
Daphne saw how her brother’s jaw clenched.
And with that one simple action, she understood the truth that Daniel had labored to conceal.
He did not like this at all. He just knew this arrangement was preferable to one they would have reached with Briarwood.
Daphne shot him a warm look, hoping to convey how much she appreciated his sentiments.
All will be well…
Daniel nodded curtly, averted his gaze from hers, then stepped aside to join his family in their pew.
If someone were to ask Daphne about the ceremony later, she would have said that it passed more like a dream. She uttered the responses without lingering on the words. Her hands trembled throughout. What was more potent was the feeling it left in her, of binding her fate with someone else.
It seemed so final, and yet, she wasn’t afraid. She could not be frightened by the man standing at her side, smiling serenely at her.
It was as she turned to the Duke and looked upon his handsome features that she realized what she had missed. They had arrived at the conclusion of the ceremony and this man, her husband, was now looking to seal their contract with a kiss.
The Duke leaned in toward her, enveloping her in his scent of rain and cedar. It didn’t fail to stir something in her. When his lips pressed down on hers, the contact made her shiver and left her feeling breathless.
The kiss had been a simple, chaste, and light peck.
And yet…
There was something there.
Perhaps, it was just nerves.
When they moved apart, their gazes met. There in his eyes, she thought she saw the same surprise she felt. But the look of astonishment did not last for long. Soon, he was again composed. He fixed a smile onto his face and Daphne automatically followed suit.
As a couple then, they turned to greet the congregation.
Polite clapping ensued. People moved toward them in a rustle of silk. Congratulations were uttered by each guest. Daphne barely registered the whole thing.
Soon, her sisters were upon her.
“Be happy, my darling. It is possible,” Marianne murmured, “especially with the freedom he promised you.”
“If he fails to be a good husband or person,” Elizabeth added, squeezing her hands, “you can send for us.”
“He will soon find out that the Brighton women have sharp teeth and claws,” Wilhelmina said, only partly in jest.
Victoria leaned closer to both Daphne and the Duke, and uttered a threat, “If you hurt her, Your Grace, I will make you regret the day you were born.”
The Duke smiled. At that moment, Daphne glimpsed the mischief she missed in him. Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “I appreciate that you are not afraid to be direct, Lady Victoria.”
Daphne’s twin blinked, not expecting the response at all. She stepped aside, leaving Daphne biting back a nervous laugh.
“You are now a duchess, Daphne,” her mother reminded her unnecessarily as she sashayed forward practically pushing the others aside so that she might speak her piece. “You must remember your upbringing.”
“I shall endeavor to remember all your teachings, Mama.” Daphne knew she ought to treat her mother with a bit of deference, but she could not keep a hint of sarcasm from inching into her tone.
The Duke uttered a laugh, which he tried to hide behind a cough, but no one, not Daphne or her mother, was fooled.
As her mother tipped her chin up haughtily and strode away from them, Daphne shared a brief smile with her new husband.
Before either of them could say anything the Nicholsons approached the newlywed couple with wide smiles, unaware of most of the drama that had happened barely behind the scenes.
“Your Grace,” Reverend Nicholson greeted, bowing. “We are deeply honored by such an invitation.”
“Indeed,” the Duke replied, bowing, as well. “It was nothing, Reverend. You and Mrs. Nicholson have my undying gratitude. You have treated Daphne well and had she not come to stay at your vicarage we never would have met.”
As if in response to that thank you, Mrs. Nicholson took Daphne’s hands in hers and kissed the young woman’s cheek. “You are such a dear girl. So lovely and kind. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
“Thank you for everything,” Daphne replied, feeling like something was stuck in her throat.
Then, there was the Duke’s friend, Lord Amberwell. Daphne had to admit that she was curious about him. He bounded toward them with easy familiarity. He clapped Wolfcrest on the shoulder. Daphne thought he did so extra hard.
“Well, then, who would have thought? You’ve finally done it, and it looks like marriage suits you.”
“I suppose, but it remains to be seen,” the Duke replied coolly.
Amberwell didn’t seem to take offense, chuckling a little.
“Well, let us see if the bride does not flee before night falls. She is young. I hope you have enough strength and endurance to chase after her, Wolfcrest.” She blushed at his words, not quite knowing all that they could mean, but detecting a double meaning in them just the same.
Then, he openly admired Daphne. “Looking at your bride, I can hardly blame you for settling down.”
Wolfcrest growled at Amberwell.
“I came in peace, my friend. I am merely jesting. You should be laughing, this being the happiest day of your life.”
“You can take your jest elsewhere,” the Duke warned. Daphne was surprised by how quickly the Duke had rounded on his friend.
He had been a portrait of jocularity a moment ago while conversing with the Nicholsons, yet now, when he interacted with a man who was presumably his friend, he showed signs of agitation.
Amberwell was unfazed by the shift in the Duke’s mood and continued smiling. He did, however, excuse himself. After giving Daphne a polite bow, Lord Amberwell retreated to the cluster of guests.
When the final blessings were uttered, the guests drifted toward the exit.
There, Daphne saw a bit of the winter sky.
She didn’t know that she would feel so much on her wedding day, like wonder in seeing pale blue becoming silver. Her body felt light and heavy at the same time, as if it knew that she was transitioning from one life to another just like the sky.
She certainly hoped, though, that it wouldn’t be from one gloom to the next.
“Shall we?” her new husband asked, offering his arm.
She didn’t hesitate much. It seemed natural to place her gloved hand upon his sleeve. His arm was firm beneath the layers of cloth; the strength felt like something she could rely on. The Duke, her husband, was someone who could provide what she needed even through the chilly air outside.
The moments after their wedding were full of sounds. Overlapping conversations were held between farewell calls and lists of instructions. Victoria rushed to Daphne’s side and hugged her tightly one more time.
The embrace felt so final that Daphne’s heart ached.
“Please visit, Daphne. I didn’t imagine we’d be parted so soon. I’ll miss you,” Victoria asked.
There was no anger in her voice, though, just sorrow. Daphne herself had somehow assumed that they wouldn’t be separated just yet, and Victoria especially had no desire to get married.
“I’ll miss you too,” Daphne promised, her voice betraying her weakness. “And I’ll visit as soon as I’m able.”
Victoria nodded, tears forming in her eyes.
“I shall hold you to that promise.”
“Come,” the Duke said softly as he smiled indulgently at the twins. “Our carriage awaits.”
It took all Daphne’s strength to pull herself away from her sister, but she rested her hand on the Duke’s arm once more, felt the strength there, and nodded in agreement.
It was time to leave.