Chapter 24
Wedding Breakfast
The day of the wedding, they had managed to stay inconspicuous in the church.
Gerald, of course, had no intention of sitting in the front pews where the family was supposed to sit.
These people were not family. He would have loved it if they had done their duty and gone back to their estate to indulge in more pleasurable activities.
But the etiquette of the ton demanded that he should attend the wedding breakfast.
This time it would take place at the groom’s house.
The viscount that his half-sister was marrying was of no little means and owned a beautiful house in Mayfair.
He had the added advantage of being an only child and an orphan.
Knowing Cecilia, Gerald was sure that she had chosen Lord Fitzpatrick for those particular qualities.
“I should say,” Arabella broke the silence in the carriage, “but they were surprised to find that Cecilia seemed to care about the groom more than I would have thought.”
“He has all the qualities that Cecilia likes. He doesn’t talk much, he thinks even less, he has money, and no family to meddle with her business.”
“You are being very cynical right now.”
“Am I supposed to believe that Cecilia truly loves her husband?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but she truly seems to care about him.”
They arrived at the house, and he felt as if he was entering a war zone.
He instantly became hyper-aware of everything.
The fact that this was not his family’s house changed nothing.
It was known that Cecilia had Lord Fitzpatrick wrapped around her little finger.
Even before marriage, this was now her domain, and he would be a fool to drop his guard.
“Arabella,” he said as he helped her down the carriage, “I think it is needless to say that you do not leave my side at all times.”
“We will scandalize the town if you follow me to the powder room.”
“I think anyone looking at you in this gown would excuse my behavior.”
“Careful, Your Grace,” she smiled. “It is the third time you’re complimenting me since this morning.”
“It seems that I can’t help myself. You look absolutely radiant. I wouldn’t follow you to the powder room only for protection,” he said lowly.
“I didn’t realize that the new protocol demanded that you enter the powder room with me,” she teased.
Gerald tightened his grip on her waist as the image of her pinned against the wall of the small powder room came to him, but then he came to his senses.
“The plan is to endure the day and allow no scenes,” he reminded her. “We exist quietly, and we exit just as quietly.”
“Yes, General,” she mocked.
“I would appreciate more focus and less teasing, Your Grace,” he warned her, but there was no bite in his remark.
“Oh, but I trust you have enough focus for the both of us, so maybe my job is to bring the teasing, Your Grace.”
Gerald looked down at her with admiration. She knew that she had been a target of an almost shameless act, and yet she faced danger with a smile on her face. He swore internally to protect that smile with all that he had.
The garden of the house was adorned splendidly, and the few guests were already mingling around. When they entered, everyone looked at them. Last time at the engagement, they didn’t offer as much amusement as anyone else would expect.
Gerald decided to get things over with and led Arabella to where his family was greeting their guests.
“Your Graces,” Unity was the first to greet them. “We are very honored to have you.”
Arabella very strategically decided to address Cecilia.
“I wish you a happy marriage and healthy babies,” she said with her most dazzling smile.
It must have pained Cecilia to curtsy a little before Arabella graciously accepted the wishes.
“I wish you a bright future,” Gerald said coldly.
After all of the guests had arrived, they were led to the dining hall.
The wedding had taken place later in the morning, so this celebration was more like a lunch, which irritated Gerald immensely.
The lunch meant sitting positions and several dishes being brought out.
It would have been more convenient if it were an actual breakfast.
His irritation became even deeper when he saw the seating arrangements.
As a member of the immediate family, and of course the benefactor of Cecilia’s dowry, Gerald was placed at the head of the table.
Arabella’s seat was among distant cousins, isolated.
At that spot, she could easily be watched and judged. The plan was already set in motion.
He was ready to make a scene when he glanced at Arabella, and she smiled a reassuring smile. He had promised to trust her and not make decisions for her, so he took his place and endured.
The first course came out, and the cold dishes were served. Gerald barely had anything to eat, just glancing at Arabella’s side. She had already started making small talk with the ladies around her. Seeing her again from a distance, he could see her charismatic nature.
“Your Grace,” Cecilia addressed Arabella directly.
Gerald felt his whole body tighten, as if he was getting ready to be attacked, which was not far from reality. With one simple phrase, Cecilia had commenced the hostilities.
“Now that we are both married women, I would love to spend time getting to know you better,” Cecilia continued with such a fake smile. “Of course, that would have to wait until after my honeymoon.”
Gerald frowned at her remark, but he didn’t have to wait long to see what the target was.
“You see, Lord Fitzpatrick had arranged for us to go on a honeymoon trip,” Cecilia said with a saccharine tone. “I believe that you haven’t had a honeymoon, have you, Your Grace?”
“No, we haven’t had the honeymoon traveling.”
“Well, you must excuse my brother,” Cecilia smiled. “He rarely puts effort into things that he doesn’t have an interest in.”
The whole table went cold. The implication was simple: a fast wedding with a lower-class lady was simply a marriage of convenience. She was not the real Duchess and had no real power in the estate.
“On the contrary,” Arabella said very calmly, “I find the Duke quite invested in many endeavors.”
See what was so daringly charming that the people around here smiled, looking at them both.
“As for traveling,” Arabella said, “I have barely explored the grounds of our estate. For now, I have no use for other traveling.”
Gerald sipped on his wine to hide his satisfying smirk. Cecilia thought that she had to deal with a simple, quiet lady who would cower under any attack; she made the wrong bet. Arabella was a skilled socialite.
“I am sure,” Unity said through gritted teeth, “that you must be burdened with the management of such a vast estate.”
If they couldn’t attack her standing in his household, they might as well question her suitability.
“I find it rather complex, I must admit,” Arabella said truthfully.
“Of course, rising to the Duchess position after being the daughter of a… I don’t recall. Was your father a Viscount or a Baron?” Cecilia added.
His grip on his glass was threatening its integrity. They were shamelessly attacking Arabella in front of everyone. They were poking at her until they found her weak spot, the one that would make her lose her composure and her good manners, and be exposed like the lowlife they wanted her to appear.
“A Viscount, Lady Fitzpatrick,” Arabella sadly reminded, now that they were separated in station. “How kind of you to remember.”
Cecilia stilled, still holding her precious silverware with tight fists and an even tighter smile on her face.
“I just hope you didn’t have to endure such a great change of station. After all, being a Duchess requires a certain savoir faire. Unity came to assist her daughter. “I am well aware of that.”
“One does not endure being a Duchess,” Arabella kept her friendly smile, but her eyes conveyed a more imperial air. “One simply rises to the occasion.”
The room went almost still, and only the sparse sound of cutlery was heard in the dining hall.
It was as if the guests took a collective breath.
Gerald noticed with satisfaction that though most people were Cecilia’s guests, they all smiled at Arabella.
She was not dubbed the sunshine of the town for no reason.
He looked at Unity sideways, and Gerald knew that this was far from over. This was their plan. They knew that he would be vigilant and would never leave Arabella alone again, so they went with a good old public humiliation.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Unity took the thread from Arabella’s impeccable answer and started weaving it. “After all, it must have been quite satisfying to rise to such a station so quickly. It is a wonder, though, how such a match came to be.”
To portray Arabella as a ruthless social climber was the main target in this last question. She was an unwanted bride and a temporary solution. That is what his family was trying to establish in the minds of the ton.
“I was the one who elevated her,” Gerald finally spoke up.
He looked at Arabella across the table and saw that her spine was straight, her eyes unwavering, and her hands fists, but with that beautiful smile upon her face.
“I chose Her Grace for the many virtues that she has, and I am glad to discover that she has much more,” he added, talking straight to his stepmother. “You can stop wondering.”
If they were almost quiet before, now you could even hear a pin drop on the carpet. He still kept eating his soup while everybody turned to look at him. He only raised his eyes to warn his stepmother and stepsister off of Arabella. He wouldn’t warn again.
“Ah,” Joseph drawled lightly, “my brother has always been… decisive.”
Gerald’s gaze flicked to him briefly. A warning. Nothing more. Joseph smiled.
“Though one cannot deny,” he continued, lazily turning his glass between his fingers, “that His Grace has a particular talent for acquiring what he desires.”
The guests looked between the two brothers. Gerald dipped his spoon into the soup and tasted, completely unfazed. He had heard it all, cruel, cold, and emotionless. Joseph was barking up the wrong tree.
“Unlike my romantic mother,” Joseph continued, “I was under no delusion that the Duke’s marriage, as every relationship in his life, was just transactional.”
Gerald looked at his half-brother over the rim of his glass. They must have been quite desperate to attack him so openly. Gerald almost found himself amused. But with the corner of his eye, he saw Arabella. Her body was rigid, her jaw clenched. The soup before her remained untouched.
If Joseph saw the effect his words had on the Duchess, he didn’t mind, because he kept running his insolent mouth.
“Of course, to be right next to the Duke requires a certain… disposition,” Joseph continued.
He then glanced once at Arabella before returning to Gerald with a wide grin on his face.
“I just hope that Her Grace’s participation in this agreement is more voluntary than coerced.”
Gerald saw his half-brother play on his reputation as a cruel man, implying that he was holding Arabella captive and perhaps was being even more violent towards her. He ground his jaw and chose not to answer such a preposterous accusation.
But then he heard the scrape of a chair, and Arabella was standing. He looked at her in confusion, but she didn’t even glance at him. Her whole focus was on Joseph, who was sitting right across from her, a few chairs down.
She said nothing, just grabbed the bowl filled with cold soup and threw it in Joseph’s face with remarkable accuracy. The whole room froze.
Except for Arabella. Very calmly, she smoothed her skirt and looked at Joseph straight in the eye while he was still shocked, soup running down his nose.
“Your mother must have been romantic, but she surely didn’t teach you manners,” Arabella said with furious clarity. “I sat at your table and endured whatever insult you thought would affect me.”
Her tone was even and polite. It was almost hard to believe that this composed lady had just hurled asparagus soup at someone. After his initial shock, Gerald felt quite proud of his Duchess.
“And honestly, I wouldn’t mind whatever insults you had in mind,” Arabella smiled at Cecilia and Unity before returning to Joseph, “but I will not sit idly by while you insult my husband.”
The room filled with murmurs and whispers. If they were expecting Arabella to confirm she was strong-armed into this marriage, Arabella gloriously shattered that delusion.
“I will simply not accept others talking about my husband as if he’s some kind of an untamed beast. If anyone has anything to add to these accusations,” Arabella openly looked at Cecilia and Unity, “perhaps I should ask for a second helping of the soup.”
She was positively shaking with anger, her blue eyes tempestuous, threatening. She looked glorious in her rage, a true Duchess if there was ever one.
“His Grace has been nothing but generous,” she continued, “but you proved to be unworthy of his generosity. You keep pushing and insulting him. Well, I for one will not sit around to hear people talk about the man I love like that.”
The man I love. Gerald was still processing that phrase that she had used when Arabella threw her towel on the table and stormed out of the room with her head held high.
“You must excuse me,” Gerald said. All eyes turned to him. “I must attend to my wife. Again, Cecilia, I wish you all the happiness you deserve.”
That was all he said, and he ran after Arabella. The man she loved. That phrase echoed in his mind as he ran after Arabella.