3. Chapter 3 #2
Concern tightened the duke’s features as he studied me—giving me the slightest reason to hope that he cared, and that I had nothing to fear.
Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might be making the biggest mistake of my life.
The duke’s open carriage waited outside St. George’s as the church bells rang again and we exited the building after the ceremony. My pulse had not calmed and was now pounding harder as he offered his hand to help me step into the vehicle.
The well-wishers poured out of the church behind us, tossing rice as they cheered.
I tried to smile but soon realized neither the duke nor I looked particularly happy.
Mother glowed with pleasure and my sisters continued to watch the duke’s brothers, who were hard to miss in the crowd.
They weren’t awkward, but it was evident that they were not used to the noise and chaos of the crowd, nor the attention they were receiving.
Their morning suits were dated and worn, though they had been pressed and polished with impeccable care.
“Take your time getting to the house,” Mother said to us as she reached for my hand once I was seated in the carriage. “The breakfast will keep.”
What she meant was that she wanted as many people as possible to see us parade around town and know that her daughter was now a duchess.
Two of the duke’s footmen climbed onto the back of the carriage as the driver pulled the vehicle away from the crowd.
As soon as we rounded the corner and the noise died down, the duke sighed. “It’s done.”
My shoulders were so stiff, my back began to ache, and tears gathered in my eyes.
It was done.
There was no going back. I had made an unbreakable promise to this man and to God.
The duke clasped his gloved hands in his lap.
Other than slipping a golden band on my ring finger and offering me his arm to escort me out of the church, we’d hardly touched each other.
There had been no kiss at the end of the ceremony.
Had he made that request to the minister?
It hadn’t even occurred to me until this moment.
Would this marriage be a business deal in all aspects? No intimacy?
A part of me felt relieved—and another gave a pang of disappointment. Didn’t the duke want an heir? I had no hope for a love match, but I also didn’t want to live the rest of my life without affection or motherhood.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.
“Sorry?” I forced myself to blink away the tears as I sniffed but did not look at him.
He took a clean handkerchief from the breast pocket of his waistcoat and pressed it into my trembling hand.
I dabbed at my cheeks, but when he did not respond to my question, I finally looked up.
The facade he usually wore had slipped and his eyes, which were not black as I’d once thought but a deep, rich brown, were filled with guilt.
“Please don’t hate me, Miss Park—Lily.”
“I-I don’t hate you.” My voice was just as wobbly as my hands. What I wanted to say was that I didn’t trust him—I didn’t trust anyone, really, but I had somehow agreed to place myself into his hands, legally, morally, emotionally, and physically.
“Then why are you crying? Is the thought of a life with me so abhorrent?”
“I—” My voice caught. “I don’t know what kind of life to expect. I know nothing about you—only the rumors I’ve heard.”
“And yet, you agreed to marry me?” His frown turned to something more—bitterness? “Were you that desperate to become a duchess?”
Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. “No.”
“Then why did you marry me?”
There was no reason to hide the truth. He was now my husband, for better or worse. “I did it for my sisters. I might not get to marry for love, but perhaps, they will.”
He was quiet as the horses’ hooves clip-clopped against the cobblestone street.
“I cannot offer you love,” he said, “but I can offer protection—and, I hope, some form of contentment, though I’ve known little of it myself.”
This wasn’t the marriage I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl, but I had grown up and realized that very few dreams came true.
I took a deep breath. I was resolved to prove to him that he’d made the right choice, but I was even more resolved to make the best of this life I’d chosen.
Come what may, I was now the Duchess of Severton, with all its obligations, duties, and privileges.
“Thank you,” I said, sniffing away the last of my tears. “I will do what I can to bring happiness into your life, if you’ll let me, Your Grace.”
“Call me Ames.” He regarded me with cautious curiosity, as if he wasn’t sure what to think of what I had said. “And you are free to try, but I do not hold out hope that you will succeed.”
His words should have discouraged me, but they challenged me instead. What would make Ames Welby happy?
We were some of the first to arrive at the wedding breakfast, but our guests soon followed and the house became crowded to capacity. My head pounded from the noise and uncertainty of all that awaited me at Pickering Castle, but I put a smile on my face, determined to look happy.
Ames stood stoically at my side as we greeted everyone, accepting their well-wishes and congratulations.
He appeared exceedingly uncomfortable, but there was little we could do about the custom.
When his four brothers arrived, several heads turned in their direction and people began to whisper with interest. Young women, especially, watched and waited for the opportunity to be introduced.
“Lily,” Ames said as the young men approached, “I would like you to meet my brothers.”
Up close, it was easier to tell them apart, though they all towered over me, like Ames did.
“This is Brant,” he said, indicating the oldest of the four.
“How do you do?” I asked him.
Brant nodded, offering a handsome smile, and kissed the hand I held out in greeting. His dark-eyed gaze was filled with admiration. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t believe Ames had truly found a bride until you walked into the church—but I’m pleased to see I was wrong.”
“Who would go to all this trouble without a bride at the end?” Ames asked, lifting a disdainful brow.
“It’s a lot of fuss, isn’t it?” Brant asked me.
“It is, indeed.” I returned his smile, liking him immediately. He wasn’t as serious and aloof as his older brother. There was no facade hiding Brant’s emotions.
“And this is Collins,” Ames continued, indicating the next brother, who I assumed was second in line to Brant.
Collins bowed over my hand, his hair a mass of curls.
“I’m still struggling to believe Ames convinced you to come willingly to Pickering Castle.
Is he blackmailing you?” He leaned close to me, lowering his voice.
“Blink once if you’re coming of your own free will, and twice if you need me to rescue you. ”
My lips parted in surprise, until the others started to laugh—all but Ames—and then I saw the twinkle in Collins’s eyes.
At least it seemed Ames’s brothers would offer a bit of fun at Pickering Castle, even if he was so serious.
“And this is Davis,” Ames continued, giving Collins a warning look.
Davis bowed over my hand, stiff with formality, his hair perfectly combed. “Welcome to the family, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.”
“Davis is the only one you can take seriously,” Ames added, still looking at Collins.
Collins held up his hands, as if in surrender. “Someone needs to have a little fun in this family.”
“And this is Everett,” Ames said, cutting off Collins and indicating the last brother, who looked to be in his early twenties, and was the smallest built of the brothers, though he was still tall in comparison to most men. His hair and eye coloring were lighter than the others, but still brown.
“He’s the baby of the family,” Collins said with a grin.
Everett gave Collins an infuriated look and took a menacing step toward him.
Ames put his hand on Everett’s chest and held him in place. “Not on my wedding day. Don’t give Society another reason to spread rumors about us.”
At over six feet tall, muscular, and well-built, Everett was a man in every sense of the word. It took a moment for him to rein in his irritation at Collins, but when he did, he turned to me, his jaw still tight, and gave me a slight bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you.” I looked between the men, all in their twenties. “Your names are in alphabetical order?”
“Father’s idea,” Collins said with a long-suffering sigh. “It was Mother’s idea to saddle us with the surnames of our ancestors.”
“Remind us of the great burden of familial responsibility and all that,” Everett added with disdain. “Ames, Brant, Collins, Davis, and Everett. All found written in the family Bible back home.”
“What will we call you?” Davis asked.
I smiled. “Lily, if you please.”
Every one of them returned my smile—all but Ames, who watched me intently, as if trying to sort out a puzzle or a conundrum.
“A flower,” Brant said, reverence in his gaze and voice. “Something to soften up the castle.”
“Much better than a stuffy old grandfather’s name.” Collins wrinkled his nose.
Martha and Ruth, along with two other young American women I’d met in London, stood off to the side in a small group—though they appeared to be speaking to each other, they seemed very aware of the young men surrounding me.
“May I introduce you to some of my friends?” I asked, ready to shift their attention away from me.
The Welby brothers stiffened but eagerly looked in the direction I had indicated.
“We don’t have time for introductions,” Ames said, offering me his arm. “Let’s get this breakfast over with. We need to be on the two o’clock train out of King’s Cross Station, and I will not be late.”
The men looked briefly disappointed, all but Davis, who appeared relieved.
“Perhaps I’ll invite them for a house party one day soon,” I said to placate my new brothers-in-law.
“That’s out of the question.” Ames’s voice invited no argument. “Pickering Castle does not welcome guests.”
No guests? Could I never have friends in my home?
With a defiant lift of my chin, I decided that Pickering Castle would have guests one day. It was my home too, as much as his.