Chapter 3 #2
She told herself it meant nothing, that it was simply a token of kindness, but as she made her way to the door, she could not entirely forget the feeling he had given her when she looked at him.
***
Alexander stood at the altar long before the guests had fully settled, his gaze fixed ahead, waiting for his bride.
He had learned how to hold himself, and even though he knew it was not what he wanted to do, he had to grin and bear it.
It was wholly necessary that he married the poor girl, the same one that had tried to escape that same day.
He might have let her go and called the wedding off entirely, had he not known that her reputation would never recover from it.
The chapel was bright in a way that felt almost intrusive.
Everything had been prepared with precision, from the arrangement of chairs to the spacing of flowers that attempted to soften what was fundamentally set to be a cold exchange.
Alexander noticed all of it without attaching meaning to any of it.
He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, then allowed his hands to rest again at his sides.
Marriage was not a beginning, not in any sense he recognized.
It was simply his duty, and he was going to do it with the same resignation he did everything else, although he had to admit that when there was something he had to do, he did it well.
He did not turn to acknowledge the assembly that had gathered. Their presence was not required, but of course a duke’s wedding was always going to be a sought-after event.
When the doors opened, nobody was looking at him anyway. They were all looking at the bride, Lady Eleanor Whitmore.
He observed her as he would a document being brought forward for signature, noting only what was necessary. She was pretty, and there was no visible hesitation in her approach, which he decided had to be out of discipline rather than ease.
It was only when she drew closer that he saw her light eyes looking forward rather than at him, and he swore that he could see the fear in them, but it was more than that.
She seemed surprised to see him, which he supposed was his own fault. He remembered what had happened in the library, and the urgency and sincerity of what she had asked of him when she believed him to be someone else.
He had not corrected her, and he had not revealed himself. Frankly, he was grateful that they would have a moment alone without any pretenses, so that he might gauge who she was for himself.
It had not been out of any real interest, he told himself, only simple curiosity.
As she reached her place beside him, she did not look at him properly. Her gaze remained forward, fixed on the wall ahead of them. Only when the officiant began speaking did she shift slightly, seemingly acknowledging the proceedings.
Alexander listened as the words were said, though he did not see any real meaning in them. He had heard variations of it all before, and this was no different and no more personal.
When prompted, he spoke his vows without embellishment.
He did not look toward the guests as he spoke, and he did not look at Eleanor until it was required.
When he did, she met his gaze briefly. There was no softness there, but neither was there any ill will.
It was not resignation in the dramatic sense people often assumed in such arrangements, but it was unmistakably there.
“I, Alexander,” he repeated, his voice steady, “take thee, Eleanor, to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. To love, cherish, and protect, until death do us part.”
The officiant nodded once and turned toward Eleanor.
“Repeat after me.”
Her voice was quieter when she began.
“I, Eleanor…”
Alexander did not mean to listen so closely, but he did.
She spoke her vows, and Alexander noted that her voice was as pretty as her face, which was very pale, although that might have been in part due to her nerves. Then again, she seemed perfectly able to speak with conviction when she clearly felt none.
He wondered if that meant she might be duplicitous, but he did not wish to judge her too quickly. Perhaps it was simply that she did well under pressure, which was something required of her, and he did not wish to punish her for that.
As the final declaration was spoken, Alexander felt the weight of what he had done. He was a husband, and she was his wife, and there was no changing that.
There was a brief pause before the applause followed, which he registered without reacting to it. Instead, his attention drifted momentarily toward Eleanor again, as though ensuring that she was present in the moment.
To his surprise, she was.
The reception that followed unfolded as expected, with polite conversation, formal congratulations, and a celebration as though what had taken place was joyous.
Alexander did as required, acknowledging guests when necessary, offering responses when appropriate, and otherwise being at the center of the attention alongside his new wife.
He observed Eleanor intermittently, too, who also spoke when spoken to.
She did not withdraw, nor did she extend herself beyond any obligation.
Her responses were correct, yet Alexander could tell that she was not entirely present in the exchanges around her, and a part of her remained slightly removed from the room.
At one point, a toast was offered to their future, and Alexander nodded and raised his glass, acknowledging the gesture without engaging with its sentiment. The words passed through him without him thinking about any of them too deeply.
Their future was to be filled with duty, not with the love and devotion that they all spoke of. They all knew it, too, which was why he struggled to understand why they were all behaving this way and playing along with the lie.
When the formalities concluded, he guided her toward the carriage without saying much at all.
There was no requirement for speech, only his hand on the small of her back as he guided her away.
To his surprise, she went with him willingly.
Only once they were seated for their incredibly short journey did he speak.
“As agreed,” he said, his voice even, “you will have your space. I will not insist upon anything further.”
“I thank you for that,” she replied.
There was no mention of the fact that they had met, but he knew that she recognized him. He wondered if she would say something eventually, or if it was merely something that would go unspoken. He had, after all, said that there was no need to speak to him.
And yet, he was curious about her.
Alexander did not know quite what had led him to help her escape. It was a ridiculous thing to do, given that it only would have hurt both of them, but he had not been able to help himself. She looked so innocent, and so clearly desperate to leave, and he had felt the urge to help her.
Fortunately, he felt relieved that it had been stopped, even if he hated the way her father had spoken to her. When all was said and done, he had at least rescued her from a life with such a horrid man. He would be better than that, at least.
“We are to host a ball soon, too,” he added. “It was planned before I had the idea of sending those letters. It was meant to be a way for me to find a wife, but now…Well, it can be to celebrate me finding one.”
He hoped that might encourage a response of sorts, but no such thing came beyond a nod of her head.
As he helped her step down from the carriage upon their arrival at the estate, his hand supported her briefly at her elbow.
The contact was minimal, intended only to assist, and yet for reasons he did not understand, his hand remained a fraction longer than required before he released her. He did not comment on it.
Neither did she.