Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“Perhaps it is not too late?” Penelope said, her voice filled with panic that she didn’t bother trying to hide. “Tell me it’s not too late.”
“Penelope…” Evelina’s tone was soft, as was the look she gave her sister. “There is no need to –”
“Do not tell me there is no need to panic,” Penelope cut her off. “From where I am standing, panic is exactly what is needed. Albina…” She looked at her cousin, desperate to find an ally. “You know His Grace, best. What might happen if I was to, oh… not go through with this?”
“I would not recommend it,” Albina said.
Albina was only a few years older than Penelope, but the two had always been close.
In some ways, they were even closer than Penelope was with her sisters, which allowed for Albina to speak freely…
often leading to her saying the wrong thing, even if she was too stubborn to admit that was what she was doing.
“Why? Will he be angry? Will he…” She winced. “Surely, he cannot be looking forward to this anymore than I am. I do not even know the man!”
“Breathe.” Evelina rested her hand on Penelope’s chest. “Deep breaths, Penelope. Now is not the time to –”
“I will panic if I wish!”
“Panic all you like, but do not be rash about it,” Evelina said instead. “This is happening, whether you want it to or not. Best that you accept it, come to terms with the fact, and not make a scene.”
“Wonderful advice!”
“His Grace is not as bad as they say.” Albina stepped into her, touching a hand softly on her shoulder. “Truly, my Joseph is good friends with His Grace, and I have met him enough to know that most of what is said is rumor. Exaggerated rumor at that.”
“But that it exists at all…” Penelope’s breathing was heavy, the room starting to sway around her. “There must be something to it. It would not come from nowhere.”
“If it helps, not much better is said of you.” Penelope’s other sister, Lady Alexandra, the Duchess of Murray; said as if she was trying to help.
Which she likely was, because of the Balfour siblings, she was always the most protective.
But she was also practical, which often had her speaking harshly, even if it was not done on purpose.
“For all we know His Grace is having the exact same reaction.”
“Alexandra!” Evelina snapped. “How is that helping?”
“My point is that not all rumors are to be believed,” Alexandra pointed out.
“We know that you are not some spinster who would rather die alone than marry – who has spent her life scaring men away because she is a most wicked sort. Just as we know this marriage was not forced upon His Grace because nobody else would have you.”
“I thought you were trying to make me feel better!” Penelope cried.
“Perception is one thing, but truth is another,” Alexandra continued. “And that truth can only be realized once you meet your future husband and see for yourself what he is like. Which, I am sure, when you do, you will learn that he is not nearly what you think.” She nodded decisively and proudly.
“She is right,” Albina added quickly. “As I said, His Grace is not as they say. A bit of a recluse, yes. Mysterious… well, that too. And then there is his temper –”
“Albina!”
“But Joseph speaks highly of him. He even goes so far as to say that His Grace is one of the kindest, most caring men he knows. And it is not like my Joseph to lie about such things.”
“See,” Evelina said gently, hand still placed against Penelope’s chest; her breathing was ragged, her body shaking from panic. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Easy for you to say,” Penelope snapped. “You are not about to marry a complete stranger!”
The three women looked between one another, concern etched across their faces. They were here for support, and they were giving as much of it as they could. But even with their optimism combined they could not deny the truth of the matter.
I am set to marry a stranger. A man with a horrid reputation. Worse, a man so desperate to marry because nobody else will have him that he had no choice but to settle on me.
It was less than five minutes until Penelope was set to walk the aisle and give her life away to the His Grace Dorian Campbell the Duke of Blackfort and, as she had predicted, it was going about as well as could have been hoped.
That was to say, not well at all.
It had all happened so quickly, and that was the main problem.
Once she agreed to this marriage, her father set about arranging it with the type of alacrity that should have been impossible for a man in his state.
But that he had already done most of the work before telling her of the arrangement made it that much easier… and that much worse.
Penelope was still yet to meet the man who would be her husband.
She was yet even to lay eyes upon him! For three weeks now, all she’d had to go on was rumor and whispered warnings of a man who, if half of what was said was true, would not make for a very good husband. Even with the lowest of bars set.
The Duke of Blackfort was said to be mean and wicked. Withdrawn and isolated. Mysterious and generally most strange. A war hero, he’d returned several years ago and had hardly been seen in public since. The reasons for which might be many, but Penelope had failed to think of a good one.
Penelope had never wanted to marry. Resigning herself since to the likelihood that it would be uncomfortable, awkward, but not an utter travesty. Yet the more she heard, and the more time she was given to consider, the more she could not see any way this didn’t end in complete tragedy.
And people wonder why I had no desire to wed.
“Let us look on the bright side.” Evelina took Penelope by the shoulders and forced her to turn around. A full-length mirror stood waiting, and Penelope’s attention was forced on the reflection. “You look stunning, Penelope.”
“You do.” Albina came in on the other side, gushing. “A princess ready for her king.”
“Father is going to be so happy,” Alexandra cooed. “Focus on that. When he sees you in this dress…” She beamed. “Let that guide you.”
Despite it all, even Penelope had to admit that she looked the part.
Her build was slender, but the gown’s tightness around her hips and under her bust gave the illusion of curves she did not know were possible.
The dark blue color of the garment went well with her dark brown hair and green eyes, her face was dusted in light powder which blurred the freckles that covered her nose, and her porcelain skin glowed in the warm light of the midday sun.
Was this a day to be celebrated, she might have gushed with pride at what she saw. But the only celebration she would indulge in could come only if she returned home in happy solitude.
I will need to make my intentions clear. Despite what I have heard of the duke, regardless of what he might want from me, he needs to know that this marriage is one of convenience only.
She nodded to herself as this thought settled. A marriage of convenience only… and no matter what, His Grace would not bar her from spending as much time with her father as she wished. That was, after all, the only thing she had in this life to look forward to.
Slowly, Penelope felt her nerves settle…
“Penelope…” From the doorway, she heard her father’s voice.
She turned to see him. Cane in hand, back still bent, and as frail as ever, he looked smart in his suit, and he beamed with pride when he saw how she was dressed. This alone brought a smile to her lips.
“Father…” Her stomach knotted. “Is… is it time?”
“It is,” he said. “Girls.” He looked to the three women. “If you don’t mind…”
Penelope’s two sisters and cousin were sure to wish her well before hurrying from the room and into the church. From here, Penelope could hear the din of the guests as they readied for the ceremony to begin. That had her heart racing, calmed slightly by her father’s warm presence.
“I want you to know that I am so proud of you.” Despite Penelope’s resistance, he sounded as if he meant it. “And all I ask is that you promise me that you will at least try and make this work.”
“I will, Father.”
“You will be happy,” he assured her. “I know you will. All you need to do is believe it.”
She forced her smile as she walked to him. Not for a second did Penelope believe she would be happy in this marriage, but she would never tell her father such things. That he believed it was enough. Something to hold onto.
“Shall we?” She held out her hand.
“We shall.” He took her hand, she held his weight, and together they made their way from the small antechamber and into the church.
Behind her composed expression, Penelope was well and truly panicking as her father led her.
She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be doing this.
She hardly noticed the church, the people who had come to see her, or much of anything.
Able to focus only on the negative… that was until she saw her soon-to-be husband for the first time.
The church and the people in it vanished when she saw him standing at the end of the aisle. The music dimmed. Her stomach unknotted. Even her father, his hand on her arm, faded as she focused on His Grace…
He was taller than she expected. Thickset, powerful, demanding of her attention.
Tousled black hair. Green eyes that were like deep pools, almost black themselves.
A sharp, severe face with tight lips pressed together into a scowl that sent a shiver up her spine.
She repressed her flinch at that scowl, alarmed by the expression.
But then their eyes met and she wasn’t so sure.