Chapter Three #2
The organ began to play, and Charlotte felt her father’s arm tense beneath her fingers.
This was it, then. Each step would take her closer to her new life, her new responsibilities, her new husband.
She forced herself to breathe steadily, to maintain the serene expression expected of a Duke’s bride.
William turned as they approached, and for an instant, something flickered in his grey eyes - surprise, perhaps, or some deeper emotion quickly masked.
But perhaps she imagined it. He was undeniably handsome in his formal attire, his dark hair and stern features lending him an air of nobility that suited the solemn occasion.
The ceremony passed in a blur of formal responses and sacred obligations.
Charlotte heard her own voice promising to love, honour, and obey, while William’s deep tones repeated similar vows with precise clarity.
His hand, when he placed the ring on her finger, was steady and warm, though he released her perhaps more quickly than necessary.
Only once did his composure slip. As the vicar pronounced them man and wife, William turned to look at her properly for the first time since she’d entered the church. Their eyes met, and Charlotte saw something unexpected in his expression - a vulnerability quickly hidden, but unmistakably present.
The moment shattered as they turned to face their guests, now officially His Grace, the Duke of Alverton and Her Grace, the Duchess. Charlotte felt the weight of her new title settle around her shoulders like a heavy cloak as they moved down the aisle, William’s arm rigid beneath her hand.
The small wedding breakfast, held at Alverton House, proved as formal as the ceremony.
William performed his duties as host with impeccable courtesy, though Charlotte noticed that he barely touched his own plate.
She found herself watching him when she thought that no one would see, trying to reconcile Margaret’s revelations with the stern man who now stood beside her chair.
“Your Grace.” Sir Geoffrey Caldwell’s voice cut through her thoughts as he approached their table. “My congratulations to you both.”
His sharp features held a calculating expression that made Charlotte uncomfortable, though his manners were perfectly correct.
“Sir Geoffrey.” William’s tone held a hint of frost. “I trust that you found the ceremony satisfactory?”
“Indeed. Though one might have expected more... celebration… for such an auspicious union.” Caldwell’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Still, I understand your preference for efficiency in all things, Your Grace.”
Charlotte saw William’s jaw tighten and found herself speaking before she could consider the wisdom of it.
“His Grace knows that true worth lies in substance rather than show, Sir Geoffrey. Much like farming - it’s the quality of the crop that matters, not the celebration of its planting.”
Both men turned to look at her with surprise. William’s expression held something almost like approval, while Caldwell’s smile grew slightly fixed.
“Your Grace is most astute,” Caldwell said, after a moment. “I look forward to making your better acquaintance as a neighbour at Alverton.”
As he moved away, Charlotte felt William’s gaze on her.
“You carry yourself well,” he said quietly.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She met his eyes steadily. “I hope you’ll find that I can be an adequate partner in all aspects of our life together.”
Something flickered in his grey eyes before his usual reserve reasserted itself. She rather thought that she’d surprised him again.
“The carriages will be ready shortly. We should begin our farewells.”
*****
The afternoon sun bathed London’s streets in warm light as their carriage pulled away from Alverton House.
Charlotte’s father had maintained his composure during their goodbye, though she had seen the emotion that he tried to hide.
Edmund had been less restrained, embracing her tightly before helping her into the carriage.
It had taken every bit of strength she had to maintain her own composure.
Now, sitting opposite her new husband as they began the journey to Alverton Grange, Charlotte felt the full weight of the day’s changes settle over her. The pearls at her throat - her mother’s pearls - seemed to grow heavier with each passing mile.
William sat in apparent absorption with some papers from his correspondence case, though she occasionally felt his gaze touch her face when he thought that she wouldn’t notice. The silence stretched between them, filled with all of the things that neither of them knew how to say.
“I trust that you’ll find Alverton comfortable,” he said finally, looking up from his papers. “Mrs Walden will help you settle into your duties as mistress of the house.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Charlotte smoothed her skirts, choosing her next words carefully. “I look forward to learning everything necessary to support you and the estate properly.”
His eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary.
“You may call me William, you know. When we’re private.”
The concession, small as it was, made her heart flutter unexpectedly.
“Thank you... William.” His name felt strange on her tongue, intimate in a way that made colour rise to her cheeks. “And you must call me Charlotte, of course.”
He nodded once, returning to his papers, but Charlotte thought that she saw his shoulders relax slightly.
She wasn’t sure that she could relax, herself, yet.
That would come, she hoped, when she reached her new home.
At least all of her personal belongings, her clothes, her jewellery, such as it was, her books and small keepsakes, had already been sent ahead.
Familiar things might make her feel better, when everything else had changed – at least that was what she told herself while, outside, London’s buildings gave way to open countryside as they began their journey towards whatever future awaited them at Alverton Grange.