Chapter 6
Six
“Iam proud of you,” Margot’s father said to her. “I hope you know that.”
“I know, Father,” Margot responded with a hesitant smile as she fought back the twisting of her stomach that felt like a den of snakes had been hatched inside of her.
“This is no small thing you are doing…” He smiled softly, and his eyes glistened with tears. “And your mother, was she alive to see it…” He sniffed and wiped his nose. “I know she would be even more proud than I am.”
“She would be,” Margot agreed, even if she wasn’t so certain. She knew little of her mother, but she doubted that a marriage of convenience aimed at quieting a scandal was something any mother would find pride in. “And thank you for being here. I don’t know if I have said that.”
“Oh…” Her father blinked and seemed to stand taller as he shuffled in closer, his arm linked through her own. “Margot, I would not miss it. A father only walks his daughter down the aisle once, and this just might be the best day of my life.”
She wanted to smile lovingly, to feel touched with a sense of pride in her father’s words.
Despite this being her wedding day, moments before she was to walk down the aisle and stand beside her future husband, a somber cloud hung over the event, blackening it so that Margot could not possibly ignore the truth behind what this was and how it had come to be.
Everyone knows the reason we are marrying.
I doubt a soul here is so foolish to think this is anything other than a marriage of convenience – they have surely all heard why we are marrying as quickly as we are.
Such is the way of the ton that it seems not to matter to them.
All that matters is that it’s happening.
It was the feigned sense of happiness and celebration that was getting to Margot.
That everyone was only too eager to pretend that this marriage was anything but what they all knew it to be.
Just two weeks ago, Margot had been a pariah of the ton; she was a celebrated bride because she was doing what was expected of a woman in her position.
Nobody cared about her well-being. All they cared about was that she did as she should.
In that way, Margot felt as if she was betraying herself.
The only way she was able to get past this feeling was by reminding herself constantly that this was for the best – at the very least, this marriage would do as I always wanted and gift me with the types of advantages I always wanted.
For myself and my family. And that will have to be enough.
So it was that the wedding, and thus the rest of her life, began.
Margot’s father was sober today, and thus, he was the one she chose to walk her down the aisle.
They stepped together into the nave of the church, at which point the scores of guests descended into a hushed silence as they watched her approach.
She saw tears in her eyes. Smiles on faces.
And not a single mouth scowled at the scandal that had not so long ago threatened to ruin her life.
The Duke of Eastmoor was waiting for her at the end of the aisle, and when he saw her coming, he nodded once as if to confirm his willingness.
For once, he wasn’t smiling in that cocky way she had become used to.
If anything, he appeared ill at ease, perhaps even nervous if such a thing was possible.
Will he be truthful to his promise? Or is this a trap that I am walking into?
Beside the duke were three other men. One was dark and mysterious, the other wickedly handsome, the third scared of the face and scary to look at.
She knew them as the Dukes of Ravencourt, Westmere, and (Blackwood), respectively, each with a reputation to match her soon-to-be husband’s.
And as she approached, the Duke of Westmere whispered into the Duke of Ravencourt’s ear, which saw him roll his eyes and elbow his friend to be quiet.
Down the aisle she walked, taking a sense of strength to find Arabella and Elizabeth there waiting for her. Her father guided her toward them, bringing her to a stop as she stood beside her future husband for the first time.
“You made it,” he said quietly so that only she could hear.
She frowned. “Did you think I would not?”
He chuckled. “Where you are concerned…” Then, a shrug. “I thought anything might be possible.”
She eyed him curiously, for she still had not figured him out as she might have liked to.
He was a cocky and arrogant sort, and she knew his reputation well.
But she wanted to believe that he was doing the right thing by her for no other reason than he knew he should do.
And that the moment they wed, he would not try to take advantage of her, as her cousins seemed to think he might.
It would be easier if I didn’t find him so attractive, she thought to herself as she roamed over him with her eyes.
His eyes were a piercing blue, the lines of his face were sharp and angular, and where he was not traditionally handsome, his confidence more than made up for it.
As had been the case often these past two weeks, Margot could not help but remember when he had held her and how that had made her feel…
how her body had rebelled against her in a way that she still did not understand.
It was just lucky, she supposed, that she hated the man. That, as much as anything, would ensure that she was able to control herself.
“Dearly beloved…” the priest began once she took her spot, and the crowd found quiet. “We are gathered here on this day…”
The ceremony was typical, and Margot found that she paid it little attention.
Throughout the priest’s vows, she glanced constantly at the duke’s stony-faced expression, surprised to see how stern and serious he was.
Why did he ask for this marriage – the real reason?
She wanted to believe that it was done for the right cause, but she could not escape the feeling that there was something more…
"And so it is that I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the Name of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” the priest decreed finally, an announcement that was met with a smattering of applause from the crowd.
Margot’s eyes widened with realization, and she found herself turned to face her husband. Although it was not common for the groom to kiss his bride, it was not unheard of, and if everything she knew about the duke was real, she had little doubt about what he might prefer…
She found herself shaking. Her body turned warm with a pink flush.
On the surface, she told herself she did not wish to kiss him, yet her eyes flicked to his lips, she remembered the feel of his breath on her when he had held her close, and despite her best efforts, Margot puckered her lips as if she wished to kiss him as much as he surely did her.
There was no kiss.
The duke took her by the hands and smiled simply, a slight nod of the head, and then a broader smile for the crowd as he turned to face them. This had the crowd clapping further, and a few rose to their feet as they stepped from their seats to rush the couple and offer them congratulations.
Margot’s stomach fell with sudden disappointment. No! She gave her head a shake to dispel such a thought. I did not wish to kiss him, and that he saw no desire to kiss me is a cause for celebration. Surely, I should be happy for such a thing?
She frowned as she worked through these emotions.
This marriage was one of convenience, and the duke had promised that they would be wed in name only.
And where she wanted to believe him… she also secretly wondered just how willing she would be to fight him if he should try anything. A most confusing situation, to be sure.
“If it makes you feel any better, I have seen brides who appear infinitely more sorrowful on their wedding day than you do, Your Grace.” The Duke of Ravencourt was standing beside her, finding himself between her and her husband as he was pulled into congratulatory hugs from his peers.
“Excuse me?” she blinked as she looked up at the dark and mysterious duke.
He laughed. “My own bride, for example…” He nodded through the crowd toward a shorter woman with a curvy figure and dark brown hair.
She was offering the duke her well-wishes, only to roll her eyes once he turned away.
“You might think this marriage to be a most horrible thing, the stuff of nightmares and what have you. But I assure you that you are not the first bride to think so. Nor will you be the last.”
“I…” Margot did not know what to say. “I suppose I am undecided.”
“A good enough stance to take,” he said with a smile that was friendly; it looked strange on him, as if he didn’t quite know how to do it. “No doubt you wonder about your new husband. Who he is. What to expect…” He shrugged. “Whether the rumors about him are true or grossly exaggerated.”
“Is this the part where you tell me that it is all lies and I have nothing to fear?”
“No,” he said simply. “Most of what you have heard is true – and a lot that you have not heard, for the best if I know the man as well as I do.”
“Oh…”
“I just wish to say that Sebastian is not as bad as many seem to think he is. Oh yes, he has a past. But don’t we all…
” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and she winced.
“But our past does not define us, and Sebastian is one whose heart is always in the right place. Even if he would never admit it.”
“So, what you are saying is that I should be over the moon with cheer for this marriage?” There was a sharpness to her tone that she didn’t mean but could not hold back. “Grateful that His Grace offered me such an opportunity.”
He laughed. “Sebastian said you were different – in a good way,” he made sure to clarify.
“The point I am making is that you should not go into this marriage expecting the worst. I know as well as anyone that these things rarely turn out how we think they will, and if you are willing to give it a chance….” His smile grew, and she saw that he was watching his wife with what could only be described as utmost adoration.
“You might find that this is not nearly the death sentence you seem to think it is.”
She was frowning at the duke, unsure what to make of his comments. “I will remember that,” she said finally, wanting to believe him, while doubting he had any idea of what he spoke of.
“Just something to think about…” He touched her lightly on the arm and smiled at her. “And congratulations. Truly, I wish the best for both of you.” With that, the Duke of Ravencourt left her, making for her husband, whom he slapped on the back and then pulled into a tight hug.
“What was that?” Arabella came in beside her.
“Hmm?” Margot turned and blinked, her mind and thoughts elsewhere.
“The Duke of Ravencourt,” she said in a whisper. “What did he say to you?”
“Oh…” She looked back, focusing not on the Duke of Ravencourt but on her husband.
He was smiling and laughing with his friends, back to his usual self-assuredness for which he was known.
And where Margot could still see in him the same arrogant and cocky man whom she had met two weeks ago in the library, she wondered now if there was more there.
Is it possible that all this worry is for nothing? This might not be the marriage I wanted, but what if it is not the tragedy I expect? And is it worth hoping for the best…
“Nothing interesting,” she lied to her cousin. “Just wishing me the best.”
“You’re going to need it,” Arabella sighed as she took Margot by the arm. “I still cannot believe this has happened. I cannot help but wonder what might have been if we had done as I had known we should and skipped the ball altogether.”
Things might have been easier that way, Margot knew. But that would not have solved them. Before the ball, she had been a social outcast, and she knew too well that things would have remained that way, lest a miracle were to occur. And maybe, just maybe, this was that miracle.