Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Victor was dressed in his finest suit. Although he did not want to be married, he was not going to disrespect Lydia by showing that to everyone else.
“I am pleased you are standing beside me today,” Victor said in a deep voice to his brother, Harry.
Lord Harry grinned. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he replied, taking a perverse kind of enjoyment in witnessing this marriage. Victor tilted his head from side to side as he tried to address his feelings of discomfort.
“I wasn’t sure you would be here after you got in such a temper. It didn’t seem that you wanted anything more to do with me.”
Harry looked abashed.
“You are my brother. I can hardly refute that. I just wish things were different is all. I’m sure you can allow me the luxury of being angry once in a while. Besides, I need to see this for myself to make sure this is actually happening.”
“You do not need to take such pleasure in this.”
“Oh, but I do, brother. The irony is delicious. You prevent me from marrying the woman I loved, and now, you are forced to marry a woman you do not care for one jot. And in both cases, you are doing so to spare the family’s reputation. Do you still believe you did the right thing?”
“Yes,” Victor said without hesitation.
Harry made a scoffing sound and shook his head.
“Well, this shall be most interesting either way. At least the house might be a little livelier. It could be worse of course.”
“In what way?”
“Lady Lydia is beautiful. You haven’t had to lower yourself by marrying a plain woman. There are men all over London who would be envious of you today. Do you know how many suitors she turned down?”
“I am not aware of that information.”
“Too many to list.”
“I wonder why.”
There was a gleam of mischief in Harry’s eyes. “I’m not sure, but some women are particular. In that case, I pity her because you are hardly the gallant kind of gentleman that arouses thoughts of romance. I shall have to get her some gloves because when she touches you, she will only find ice.”
“It is not that type of marriage,” Victor said.
“Oh yes, your ‘special license.’ How is that going to work, anyway? Do you honestly believe it will sweep away all the speculation and scandal?”
“It shall,” Victor said although he harbored doubts about this as well. While the license was legitimate, he could not guarantee that people would treat it as normal.
Victor narrowed his eyes and began to regret asking his brother to stand beside him.
However, he didn’t have that many choices, for he had always kept people at a distance, and those he considered friends were few.
This wedding was not going to be a grand affair, so he had not invited any business associates, friends, or acquaintances.
While there was a smattering of cousins who had been invited due to obligation, the only guest of note to Victor was Harry.
Victor steadied himself, clasping his hands together. He looked past the flower girls, the bridesmaids, and the maid of honor. It was impossible to look at anything apart from the vision of loveliness that was Lydia.
When he commissioned the gown, he had been assured of its excellent quality, and the expense of it indicated the same. But to see it being worn by Lady Lydia gave it a liquid quality.
It flowed down her body, coming to life in a way that he hadn’t imagined it could when he saw it unworn. She held flowers in front of her stomach. Her sleeved arms were slender. Her hair was perfectly styled, framing the beauty of her face perfectly.
And then he noticed the sadness in her eyes. Victor might have earned a reputation as a cold man, but he was not devoid of empathy. Lady Lydia saw this not as a binding of two hearts but as a shackling of her soul.
There was no other way.
The Duke of Stonewood walked her down the aisle and placed her gloved hand in Victor’s.
Her hand was small, fitting neatly into his palm.
As he looked at their hands, he thought about Harry’s words and wondered if Lydia did indeed feel a chill.
The air was scented with a sweet perfume, and for a moment, he had to catch himself.
She was his arranged duchess and nothing more. This wedding would not last forever nor would the marriage. Yet there was a sense of timelessness about this day.
His life would never be the same again.
They were led through their vows by the Reverend.
The words were spoken clearly but without feeling.
Lydia faced him, but her eyes looked everywhere else apart from his eyes.
A strange feeling came over him, as though he was outside his body.
It was surreal to think that this was really happening, and a part of him believed that something would interrupt the occasion.
But nothing did.
They reached the part where they promised themselves to each other. Victor’s voice was dry. Lydia’s was a reluctant whisper.
Victor felt a need to add legitimacy to the wedding, to show some sign that he was affectionate of Lydia that went beyond what was ordinarily expected of a groom. He winced inside, vexed by the lengths he was forced to pursue to resolve this situation.
He leaned towards her.
She remained motionless. He closed his eyes and moved as close to her as he dared. His lips brushed against hers, a touch so light that it might well have been said to hardly have occurred at all. However, it was enough to send a strange tingling sensation shooting through the core of his body.
He moved back. Everything had changed. The scandal was settled, but he was now married to a woman he barely knew, and there was an abandoned baby in his life that somehow depended on him.
The baby had been left at the townhouse for the ceremony, but the presence loomed like shadowy clouds on a stormy horizon.
There was no telling what would happen next.