Chapter 10 #2
“You wound me.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’ve become quite respectable. Haven’t been sent down in almost six months.”
“A stunning achievement.”
“I thought so.” He smiled, then pulled her into a brief, awkward embrace that felt more genuine than any of their father’s calculated gestures.
When he released her, his expression had turned serious.
“Joking aside, you’re the cleverest person I know, Cressida.
If anyone can manage a difficult duke and an impossible situation, it’s you.
Just… don’t lose yourself trying to be what everyone else expects. ”
The words, so unexpected from her often frivolous brother, settled somewhere deep in her chest.
“I’ll try not to,” she answered, doing her best to keep her lips from quivering.
“Good. Because someone needs to keep arguing with me about philosophy and correcting my Latin, and I’d rather it be you than some stuffy Cambridge don.
” He stepped back, that familiar mask of casual amusement sliding back into place.
“Besides, being related to a duchess should improve my standing considerably. I might finally get invited to the better parties.”
“There it is. I knew your concern was entirely self-motivated,” Cressida harrumphed.
“Always.” He grinned. “Take care of yourself, Your Grace.”
Harriet reached her as Peter moved away, John hovering at her shoulder in quiet support. Her friend’s embrace was fierce, trembling slightly with suppressed emotion.
“I’m so sorry,” Harriet whispered in her ear, voice thick. “If I’d known what you were trying to do… if I’d realized the danger you were putting yourself in…”
“This isn’t your fault, Harriet.” Cressida pulled back enough to meet her eyes, gripping her hands tightly. “You’re happy with John. That’s what matters. That’s what I wanted for you.”
“But you… Are you happy?” Harriet’s eyes were bright with tears that threatened to spill over. “You don’t have to do this. John and I could help. We could find another way. We have resources now, connections—”
“There is no other way.” The reality settled heavily in Cressida’s chest, immovable as a boulder rooted in mire. “The scandal sheet made certain of that. This marriage is the only solution that salvages anything from the wreckage.”
“Ashmere is a good man,” John offered quietly, stepping forward. “I know his reputation suggests otherwise, but he’s honorable, Your Grace. Truly. He wouldn’t have offered marriage if he didn’t mean to honor those vows.”
Cressida’s gaze found Theodore across the chapel, standing with his aunt in quiet conversation. As though sensing her attention, he looked up, their eyes meeting across the distance with an intensity that made her breath catch.
Even now, with gold on her finger and vows barely spoken, the sight of him made her pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with duty or obligation. She was no doubt hurtling towards an end of some sort. She just did not know what it was yet.
“Write to me,” Harriet pleaded, reclaiming her attention as John wandered away, towards where her husband stood with Lady Seymore. “Please. Every week at minimum… even if it’s only to complain about how impossible he is or how dreadfully boring everything becomes for you.”
“That I can promise.” Cressida managed a smile. “Though I suspect I’ll have plenty to write about.”
Across the chapel, Lady Seymore approached Theodore with the satisfied expression of a woman whose schemes had worked precisely as intended.
“Well, Theodore.” Lady Seymore smiled warmly. “Congratulations are in order, I believe. You’ve done the honorable thing.”
Theodore inclined his head with minimal courtesy. “Thank you, Auntie.”
“Yes, congratulations, old friend.” John clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to make him shift slightly. “Though I must say, for a man who just got married, you look positively grim. One might think you were attending a funeral rather than your own wedding.”
Theodore’s jaw tightened. “I’m simply… aware of the circumstances that necessitated this union.”
“Circumstances or not, you’re married now.” John’s grin turned knowing. “To a beautiful, intelligent woman who clearly has the spine to stand up to you. I’d say that’s rather fortunate.”
“This isn’t a love match, Whitebrook.”
“Neither was mine at the start.” John’s expression softened with something that looked like understanding. “But look how that turned out. Sometimes the best things come from the most unexpected circumstances.”
Lady Seymore nodded sagely. “Your friend speaks wisdom, Theodore. Though I suspect you’re too stubborn to hear it.”
Theodore remained silent, his gaze drifting unbidden to where Cressida stood with Harriet, her auburn hair gleaming in the chapel light. Even from across the room, he could see the elegant line of her neck, the way her hands moved as she spoke, the intelligence that animated her features.
John followed his gaze, and his grin widened.
“You know, I seem to recall you giving me some rather pointed advice when I was in a similar position. What was it you said?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“Ah, yes. ‘Marriage is what you make of it, John. Don’t waste the opportunity by being a fool.’”
Theodore’s glare could have frozen wine. “That was different.”
“Was it?” John’s tone suggested he found this highly unlikely. “Because from where I stand, you’re about to make the same mistakes I almost made—pushing away a good woman out of pride and stubbornness.”
“I’m not pushing anyone away. I’m being realistic about the nature of this arrangement.”
“Realistic.” John shook his head. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
Lady Seymore touched Theodore’s arm gently. “My dear boy, I know you’ve been hurt. I know you carry wounds that make trusting others difficult, but perhaps this is an opportunity rather than merely an obligation.”
Theodore’s expression shuttered completely. “We should depart soon. The journey is long.”
He moved away before either of them could respond, leaving them exchanging knowing glances.
Before Cressida could continue her conversation with Harriet, Theodore materialized at her side with that silent intensity she’d come to recognize. His hand settled on the small of her back with careful possession, the touch sending warmth radiating through the layers of silk and stays.
“We should depart,” he said quietly, his voice pitched low for her ears only.
“Of course, Duke.”
Then, Lady Seymore appeared at her elbow, her expression radiating satisfaction. “My dear Duchess, how lovely you look. That gown suits you admirably.”
“Thank you for your assistance in procuring it, Lady Seymore. Your generosity has been most appreciated.”
“Nonsense. What else is family for, if not helping with hasty wedding preparations?” The older woman’s eyes sparkled with something that might have been mischief.
“I do hope you’ll forgive my nephew’s rather abrupt proposal.
Romantic gestures have never been his strong suit.
He tends toward the practical in all things. ”
That was certainly one way to describe Theodore barging into her parents’ drawing room and announcing their marriage like a business transaction.
Before Cressida could formulate a diplomatic response, her family gathered near the chapel entrance for final farewells.
Her mother’s tears had intensified to near-hysterical proportions, accompanied by dramatic pronouncements about her elevation and tragic fate.
Her father offered more curt instructions about conducting herself with dignity and not embarrassing the family.
Mary clung to her once more, extracting solemn promises of weekly letters and eventual visits.
Lady Norwell held her longest, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering fiercely, “Remember, my dear, who you’ve always been. You’ve always survived what others cannot. And you do it with your head held high.”
Then Theodore was guiding her toward the waiting carriage with firm pressure at her back, and Cressida found herself climbing inside before she’d fully processed what was happening.
The door closed with decisive finality. The carriage lurched into motion, wheels crunching over gravel.
And she was alone with her husband.