Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Matthew
Waiting at the end of the aisle of the small chapel, Christian by his side, Matthew rolled his shoulders.
His jacket felt uncommonly tight in a manner it had not before.
The gathered guests filled the pews since the chapel was not all that large.
Matthew was glad not to have the full might of the ton watching him from St. George’s.
The ton would be disappointed, he was sure, since this made two ducal weddings in a row that they missed, but he was glad of their absence.
Besides, they should have gotten their fill from the pomp and circumstances of Gregory and Tiffany’s wedding; they did not need his as well.
Matthew had no interest in feeding the voracious appetite of the ton more than necessary.
In fact, he was rather looking forward to being a boring married man of the ton, which would have much less expectation being pushed on him than a single duke in need of a wife.
Granted, there would be interest in his heir, but as Matthew was also interested in the process of begetting one, he did not mind that as much.
He was very eager to start tonight.
The doors at the back of the chapel opened, and he straightened to attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Christian doing the same thing.
Bridget and Charlotte came in, side by side, walking with stately elegance. Bridget was smiling widely, chin up, beaming as she glided down the aisle. Charlotte appeared fierce, her expression solemn, her wide, pale violet eyes staring at him intently as she walked beside her sister.
“Is it just me, or is the little one rather spooky?” Christian murmured in his ear.
It was not just him, but Matthew could not answer him without turning toward him, and he was a little afraid to take his eyes off Charlotte.
They got to the end of the aisle and took their seats next to his grandmama, which meant he could relax now that they were under her eye. She nodded approvingly at them, and Bridget preened while Charlotte remained serious and unaffected.
Miss Belle appeared at the back of the chapel, beautifully regal, gowned in a rosy hue that matched her given name.
Matthew was aware of Christian stirring beside him.
The two of them truly did seem to cause each other discomfort, but Christian was who he’d wanted standing beside him for his wedding, and he did not think Johanna would have chosen anyone other than Miss Belle to stand up with her.
If she was discomfited by the sight of Christian at the altar beside Matthew, it did not show in her demeanor as she came down the aisle and took her place. Her focus immediately went to the doors as the music changed and swelled.
Matthew felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d seen other men standing in this position, waiting, and he had never wondered how they felt. Never thought they might feel any differently than they normally did.
Maybe they did not.
But he suddenly felt a surge of anticipation, of momentous occasion, the way he sometimes felt when his coin was spinning in the air while he waited for the outcome of an important decision. As if the whole world had come to a brief halt, waiting with bated breath for the dice to fall.
She appeared at the back of the chapel on her brother’s arm, but Matthew barely saw Micah. Johanna took all his attention.
The veil covering her face could not obscure her beauty.
The pale netting nearly matched her hair beneath it, blending together, though the sparkle of the amethysts in her tiara shone through.
The dress she was wearing was pale purple, though not quite lavender, and clung to her figure.
Her amethyst necklace rested on the white lace that decorated the silk, adding a matching glitter to her tiara.
As she came closer, more of her features came into focus.
Her wide violet eyes.
Her pink bow of a mouth.
The slight blush in her cheeks.
After Micah completed the portion of the ceremony where he gave her away to Matthew, he stepped away, leaving Johanna’s hand in Matthew’s. She took her place across from him, her fingers still held in his.
The way she was looking at him reminded him of when he’d seen her a few days ago, on the stage about to be sold.
And he’d purchased her.
Not for a night, but for the rest of his life.
Which was only hitting him now at this moment.
Thankfully, he did not need to do much but say the appropriate answers at the appropriate times, prompted by Father Michael. He had not realized how very struck he would be by this moment, looking at the woman he was tying himself to.
His wife.
Johanna
The wedding went by in a blur. The vows, the brief press of the duke’s lips against hers, then she was a duchess. But she did not feel any different. She still felt like herself.
Uncertain and as though she was playacting at being a duchess.
But she held her head high as they thanked their guests for coming and moved to the wedding brunch. At which, she found herself fascinated by their guests and not just because she was trying to distract herself, but because they were truly fascinating.
The Duke of Grafton had come with his fiancée, Lady Annabelle Walsh, and his mother.
While no one was unkind to Lady Annabelle, it did not seem that the future duchess was part of the group of women who had pulled Johanna into their circle.
Which made her feel bad for Lady Annabelle, but considering the way Grafton was staring at Delilah, and the way she was pointedly ignoring him, was enough to make it clear why Lady Annabelle was excluded.
It was not her fault, but the fault of the circumstances.
Then there was the Duke of Ormonde and his insistence on dogging his betrothed’s footsteps, despite Lady Astrid’s obvious annoyance with him.
She was growing more and more peevish as he hung about her, while he became more and more stoic as she poked and prodded at his pride.
Johanna was not sure what to do about that, but Lady Stark sailed in, claiming the duke’s arm and pulling him away to speak to the Duke of Hereford.
“I swear, Lucifer is trying to drive me mad before the wedding,” Lady Astrid muttered to Johanna, shaking her head. “He has gone from avoiding me to clinging to me like a limpet.”
“Perhaps something has changed in his feelings for you?” Johanna suggested. She did not know the duke well enough to tell, but there must be some reason for it.
“More likely, he hopes to drive me to the madhouse rather than having to wed me. Perhaps all these weddings are getting under his skin as he realizes ours approaches.” Lady Astrid tossed her head, a bit like a fractious horse.
They both quieted as the Duke of Bolton approached.
Johanna felt her nerves rise. He was so very intimidating, so very serious, and there was an air about him that seemed even heavier with tragedy than the other dukes.
His grey morning jacket hung on broad shoulders over a white shirt, with a forest-green waistcoat and matching cravat. The effect was effortlessly elegant.
“Lady Astrid,” he said with a bow. “Duchess. Felicitations on this happy day.”
“Thank you,” Johanna replied, uncertain of what else to say to him. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, given the topic she chose—Lady Astrid had no such qualms.
“Your Grace.” Lady Astrid smirked at him. “How goes the search on the marriage mart? You realize you and Christian are the last dukes standing at this point. The debutantes and their mamas will be growing quite desperate once news of this morning reaches their ears.”
Bolton shuddered.
“Thank you for the reminder,” he said dryly.
“If you need assistance, you can always speak with Mei,” Lady Astrid said, tilting her head in the direction of the matchmaker, who was standing off to the side speaking with Delilah and Kalina.
According to Mei, her grandmother was the real matchmaker, and she provided assistance, but Johanna had noticed Lady Astrid always spoke as if it was truly Mei making the matches.
For a moment, Johanna thought the duke would roll his eyes, but instead, he shook his head and his shoulders at the same time, as though shaking off Lady Astrid’s suggestion.
“I am a duke.” He had straightened up, stretching his already impressive height higher and looking down his nose at Lady Astrid. “I do not require the assistance of a matchmaker to find a willing bride, just because it will give your friend the cachet of matching a duke.”
“Then why are you not engaged yet?” Lady Astrid raised her eyebrow at him. “If it is so easy to find a willing bride?”
Johanna gulped, nervously peeking at the duke again to see his reaction. Should she try to intervene in this conversation and end it? What would a duchess do?
Perhaps Lady Astrid was not the duchess to try to emulate. Johanna was not sure she could stomach the confrontations the lady appeared to thrive on.
Thankfully, the duke was either used to Lady Astrid’s blunt manner or unbothered by it. Johanna would bet on the former, as he seemed a very upright and proper kind of gentleman.
“Just because a lady is willing to become a duchess does not mean she would be a suitable one. I am trying to choose the right bride. One who will be a wife I can be… content with.”
“Which is exactly what Mei can assist you with,” Lady Astrid said triumphantly. “Helping narrow down your options, especially as she can become far more familiar with the contenders than you can. She will see sides of the debutantes that you do not.”
Bolton opened his mouth, already starting to shake his head, then stopped. Frowned.
“Think about it,” Lady Astrid said, reaching out to pat Bolton’s arm. “Come, Johanna, we should go speak with Delilah.”
Johanna allowed herself to be carted off, thankful not to be left alone with the duke.
As they approached, Delilah smiled. She exchanged air kisses with both of them before Johanna moved on to greet Mei and Kalina, who were standing beside the baroness.