Page 105 of To Catch a Viscount

Since she’d been a small girl, Marcia had dreamed of her marriage, imagining what that day would be like and who her bridegroom would be.

She had even arranged her dolls in little seats and pretended that she was marching down the aisle on the arm of Mr. Poppet, the lone male doll in her collection.

She’d been so very sure how that day would play out.

There would be a respectable gentleman who loved her beyond distraction.

There would be tears of joy.

There would be excited laughter and chattering.

She would attend the details of that wedding.

Not so very long ago, she’d had all of that.

Or she’d almost had all of that.

There had been a respectable gentleman, but certainly not one who’d loved her beyond distraction.

This day, her real wedding day, was nothing like any of those imaginings.

Tears. There were plenty of those and sad looks. Those were from her parents, who’d not been able to look her in the eye, which was odd. Given the fact that she was a constant reminder of the man who’d committed the greatest atrocity against Marcia’s mother, they should be visibly relieved. Or mayhap that was why it was so very hard for them to look at her. Perhaps they felt guilty about being relieved to have to see her in their house anymore?

“Well, this is grim,” Faith muttered from where she sprawled on the pink sofa, one leg stretched over the arm and her lacy white skirts rucked up about her knees. “One would think we were attending a funeral rather than a wedding.”

All that was keeping Marcia sane thus far this day were the two friends who’d slept over, spending what would be Marcia’s last night in her family’s home with her. They’d not left her side.

“I, for one, don’t understand what all the sad eyes from our parents are,” Anwen said with a frown. New to their fold only just that year, the young lady’s family had traveled in different circles.

“Because they don’t like Andrew,” Faith explained.

“They like him,” Marcia said defensively.

“No, they tolerate him,” Faith corrected. “Because he is Lord and Lady Rutland’s brother-in-law and brother.” She creased her brow. “Respectively. And the same with the Duke and Duchess of Huntly, but none of them like him. They see him as a scoundrel, a terrible fellow not to be trusted with young ladies and—”

“Er…” Anwen cleared her throat. “I think I get the point.” She gave a less-than-discreet nod Marcia’s way.

Faith blushed. “My apologies.” She paused. “Now, if you were marrying a fellow like Wakefield, they’d all be on board with the day.”

Wakefield, Andrew’s counterpart, but also a gentleman who’d been a friend to her over the years—until she’d made her Come Out. At that point, he’d all but disappeared from her life completely.

Andrew had not, however.

Andrew had remained as steadfast then as he was now.

And you are repaying that friendship by locking him into a marriage that he certainly doesn’t want.

Her stomach twisted into a thousand knots.

“You are having reservations,” Faith murmured, unerringly accurate in her read of Marcia.

“No,” Marcia said, though belatedly, and her friends exchanged a look.

Faith pointed to the gold chain Marcia still wore. “It’s because you are following the Heart of a Duke.”

She really should have taken that silly bauble off, but for reasons she couldn’t understand, she’d insisted on wearing it.

Anwen beamed. “MayhapWatersis your true love.”

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