Chapter 14
Frances
Frances made her way down the aisle on her own. She hadn’t wanted her father to walk with her. It had felt wrong.
In a way, he had caused all of this.
If he had ever loved her, if he had ever cared about her, he would not have sent her to Aunt Eugenia’s.
Yes, it was true that Aunt Eugenia had turned out to be a lovely woman who cared for her, but at the same time, Frances was getting married because her father hadn’t wanted her.
The truth was, she was surprised that he even came here. She had known that her stepmother and sister would refuse to come, and she had been quite right. Their absence hadn’t surprised her in the least. But her father’s presence was indeed a surprise.
They had not yet spoken. He had arrived only an hour before the ceremony while she was getting ready, and so Aunt Eugenia had spoken to him. He had been under the impression that he would be walking her down the aisle, but Aunt Eugenia had set him straight.
Still, now that Frances walked down the aisle all alone, following her three cousins who were her bridesmaids, she couldn’t help but feel lonely. She had wanted her father to walk her down the aisle. She had wanted him to want to do that.
She had often imagined that as a young girl, but that would have meant he would have to care for her, and he didn’t. He never had. She was nothing to him. Less than nothing.
She had been so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed she had closed the gap between her and James, who was already standing at the front, waiting for her. He offered his arm, and she took it.
“Well,” he whispered, “you look out of sorts.”
“Well, it is not every day that a country girl like myself marries a duke,” she said.
“That’s not it, though, is it?” he said. He looked over her shoulder at her father. “Are you upset that your mother—your stepmother and sister are not here?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “I could not be happier for it.”
He nodded. “I want you to know that I understand what it is like to have a strained relationship with your father.”
She looked at him, surprised to hear these words of comfort coming from his mouth. But she had no time to contemplate their meaning further because the vicar cleared his throat.
“Shall we?”
They nodded and turned to the front.
The vicar started the ceremony, and many prayers and hymns and wise words later, they said their vows. Frances uttered them, knowing that they were meaningless because this was not a real marriage after all.
After James had said his vows, they looked at one another, and a cold dread washed over her. They had to kiss now.
She parted her lips, ready to tell him that she did not wish to, when the vicar said, “You may kiss the bride.”
She inhaled sharply as his face came down to hers, but then, to her surprise, he deftly turned his head and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
From the pews, it would’ve looked as though he kissed the corner of her mouth, but he hadn’t. He had kissed the spot right next to her mouth without touching her lips. It had been gentle and kind and respectful. A gentleman’s kiss, properly done.
Just what she would have suggested, had she thought of it beforehand.
“I assumed you did not want me to kiss you on the mouth,” he said before straightening to his full height.
“I didn’t,” she admitted.
He only nodded and offered his arm, and then together they walked down the aisle, this time to cheers and applause.
The wedding breakfast was held at her new home, the stately St. James townhouse.
The smell of fresh paint still clung where remnants of the fire that had driven him out of his home weeks ago had been covered up. There was new Chinese wallpaper all around the first floor, and she had been told that the area below stairs had been entirely redone.
“Goodness, what a crush this is!” Evelyn gasped, looking around. “It reminds me of my first wedding.”
“Without the apricots, of course,” Charlotte quipped, and the three sisters chuckled.
Frances frowned. “Apricots?”
“Apricots are what saved Evelyn from a miserable life with an old man. Or rather, an apricot kernel,” Charlotte explained.
“I see,” Frances said, though she couldn’t find the humor in it. A man had died, after all.
“I always sound dreadful,” Evelyn said. “I know it. Please do not mind us. It was a terrible time for me. Besides, it wasn’t the apricot that killed him.”
“It is a long story, and we will not bore you with it on your wedding day,” Marianne piped up. “In any case, we do not have any stone fruit here, so we shall be quite safe.”
“I do not have stone fruit,” Frances agreed. “But I have a husband who can be like an immovable rock.”
“Oh, you misunderstand James,” Charlotte said.
“Indeed, he can be a jolly fellow if he wants to be,” Evelyn added. “Do you remember Christmastide twelve years ago, Marianne?”
Marianne chuckled. “When he decided to juggle the imported oranges and took out the wall sconces?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “And I think one of Father’s busts.”
“He was livid,” Evelyn said. “Father, that is, not James. He thought it was all rather hilarious. Until Aunt Eugenia came in.”
“Indeed, I am certain if it hadn’t been for Uncle Frederick, she would have rung a right peal over his head right there and then.”
“Uncle Frederick,” Frances murmured. “I remember him.”
She smiled at the thought of Aunt Eugenia’s husband. She hadn’t known him well, but he had come to visit her once just before her mother died. It was a vague memory, and one that had only resurfaced during a recent conversation with Aunt Eugenia.
“I wish I had known him better.”
“You will know him through us.” Marianne patted her shoulder. “Now, how does it feel to be a duchess?”
“I imagine not much different than how you feel as a countess,” Frances laughed. “You have all managed to get yourselves titles, which is an achievement.”
“Yes,” Evelyn agreed. “The four of us shall make quite the set. A true force to be reconned with. Two duchesses, a marchioness, and a countess.”
“A set of queens,” Charlotte echoed. “I do not think that the actual queen would approve of such a comparison, but I love it nonetheless.”
“I love it, too,” Marianne said.
The four ladies stood together for a moment longer until two gentlemen entered through the front door.
“Ah, our husbands,” Charlotte said and took Evelyn by the arm. “We shall see you later.”
The two left, leaving Frances alone with Marianne.
“Is Lucien not here?” Frances asked, having grown accustomed to using the first names of her cousins’ husbands.
“No, Henry had a slight fever this morning. Nothing serious, but Lucien decided to stay behind with him. And I do not blame him. In fact, I would rather leave soon. My friend Judith has come to visit us for a while, and she is helping, but I do not like to be away from him for too long.”
“Henry?”
“Henry and Lucien.” Marianne smiled. “I hope you will find the joy of motherhood soon, too.” She squeezed her arm.
Frances’s heart sank a little. “I should think not, but thank you for your kind wishes.”
“You never know. I still say—” Marianne stopped. “Oh, I think someone wants to talk to you.”
Frances turned, and her stomach dropped. Standing behind her was none other than her father.
Marianne slipped away as her father stepped forward and tried to hug her. His arms felt like an unpleasant weight around her shoulders.
She endured his embrace with gritted teeth, and she barely raised her hands to pat his back.
“My dearest Frances. I can hardly believe it. You are a duchess. I sent you away to become a lady’s companion, and within a few weeks, you have managed to make yourself into one of the highest-ranking ladies in Society. I knew you could do it.”
“Could do what?” she asked. “As you said, you sent me away to be a lady’s companion, nothing more. You couldn’t have known that I would become a duchess.”
“No, but I had hoped that you would. You were always so clever and quick-witted and charming. It is no wonder that—”
“He did not fall for me, Father,” she hissed.
“This is not a love match. He needed my help. I needed his help. It is a cold arrangement that means nothing for either of us. You have trapped me in a life in which I will be titled and rich but wretchedly unhappy. You have made me a gilded prisoner, nothing more.”
“I did not—”
“You have trapped me in a life that will be as miserable as Mother’s was.”
Her father stood there, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. “That is not… That is not true. None of it is true.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat came from beside them, before James stepped out.
“Did you hear what I just said? I hope you did not. Things are awkward enough between us as they are. There is no need to make things worse.”
However, James did not seem to have heard anything she had said, because he placed an arm around her shoulders and drew her close.
“Mr. Langley,” he said. “What a pleasure to meet you. I wish I could say that Frances has told me much about you, but I am afraid that up until this morning, she had scarcely uttered a word about you.”
“Oh,” her father murmured. “That is surprising.”
“I would not know” James said. “I do know that I scarcely talk about my own father. But then again, he and I had a wretchedly horrible relationship becaise he always preferred my brother over me and made me feel as though I was second best. Quite the unwanted spare, as it were.”
Frances inhaled sharply. She could barely believe what he had just said. And he knew exactly what he was doing, because her father turned white as a sheet.
“Well,” her father said, “in any case, it was a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. And you, Frances.”
“Her title now is Her Grace the Duchess of Somerset,” James corrected. “She should be addressed as Your Grace, even by her own parents. Protocol must be observed, Sir.”
Frances felt herself rise, as though she were growing a full inch. Her shoulders pulled back, and her head lifted. She had never felt so powerful, so vindicated.
“Right, of course.” Her father bowed. “Your Grace. You will have to excuse me. I am needed at home.”
He cannot flee fast enough, the coward.
“Of course. Do give my best to your wife and daughter,” Frances said coolly, as though they were not her stepmother and sister, but complete strangers. Which, honestly, they might as well have been.
Her father turned and walked away. She was about to smile up at James and thank him for his intervention when she saw the miserable expression on his face.
He dropped his arm and looked at her earnestly. “I do hope that you know it is not my intention to make you miserable. And however awful your mother’s life was, I promise you that you will not endure the same fate. I may be many things, but I am not a tyrant. I hope you believe me.”
With that, he walked away to join the crowd, leaving her standing behind, feeling like a horrible wretch.