Page 24 of Wedded to the Sinful Duke

Without any warning, she jumped onto him, wrapping her arms around him and enveloping him into a loving embrace. “Congratulations, Jonathan! There is so much we need to discuss regarding your wedding!”

Jonathan’s arms floated around his cousin’s body then he wrapped them around her, returning the hug. He didn’t say anything.

After all, whatwasthere to be said other thanI do?

CHAPTER 12

Ciara saidI dowithout really meaning it. How could she promise to love and cherish someone she didn’t know, someone who willingly and purposely placed her in this situation? She could never mean it under such circumstances. But as always, one had to pretend.

“So lovely… congratulations… all the best to the newlywed couple… the new duchess… long and prosperous… many children…” The good wishes kept pouring during and after the wedding breakfast held at Silverbrook Hall, Jonathan’s main residence in the country which was also to be her new home. How strange that felt.

However, what was even stranger was the moment when her parents walked up to her and her husband, wanting to offer their own wishes for the newlyweds.

“Your Grace,” the Viscount bowed respectfully, and as he bowed, Ciara caught a glimpse of his bald head which he was trying hisbest to hide by combing his remaining hair to the side, creating a ridiculous look.

She remembered how fearful and tall he used to seem, mountainous even, but now, they were almost the same height.

“Viscount Hartfield,” Jonathan nodded respectfully, “how nice of you to attend.”

“Yes, we had some business matters to attend to, but nothing was more important than this event,” the Viscount said, his voice dripping like venomous honey, threatening to drown anyone it touched. Ciara felt nauseated. The amount of lies in that statement was astonishing.

“Your Grace,” Ciara’s mother interjected, “congratulations. You honor us by choosing our daughter as your bride. We know that there are so many other ladies of the ton far more suitable for a man of your grandeur, and yet, in your endless kindness, you have chosen the black sheep of our family.” Her mother turned to her with a look of scorn. “You have no idea how hard we’ve tried with her to make sure she grew up into a fine young woman. We have done everything in our power, everything! And yet, I feel that we have failed… that we have failedyouas her future husband,” she said, suddenly bursting into sobs which she tried to hide in her husband’s embrace.

“You must forgive my wife, Your Grace,” the Viscount said, gently embracing his trembling wife. “This is all very emotional for us. You have made us so happy.”

Ciara’s mother then pulled away from her husband’s arms, her thin lips pursed, her eyes wide with gravity. “But despite everything, I believe that Ciarawillbe a good wife to you, Your Grace. Iknowthat she hasn’t forgotten everything we have taught her.”

Ciara looked at Jonathan, incredulous at her parents’ behavior. He seemed confused by the charade he was witnessing, and she could only hope that he could see through it. However, if he was like everyone else, then it was easy to fall into their trap.

Her parents had always played their roles perfectly. She was the child that was to be ashamed of, and they were the good parents who were to be blamed for nothing, other than doing everything in their power to bring her back onto the right path. She wanted to scream about the injustice that had been done to her, but she knew it would serve absolutely no purpose.

“Thank you, Viscount,” Jonathan nodded, perplexed that they were addressing only him and not their daughter.

That was when Ciara’s mother pulled away from her husband, wiping the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief that seemed to have magically appeared in her hand. She always had a flair for the theatrics which only heightened the effect of their drama.

“As for you, young lady, consider yourself extremely fortunate that His Grace forgave you for your past,” her mother said in a scornful tone. “Not many men would.”

My past?Ciara almost gasped.What about his? He is the rake here!But she wisely decided to keep those thoughts to herself.

“You need to make sure that you are a good wife and a good duchess,” her mother urged with an outstretched index finger, just like she had when Ciara was a little girl and she had done yet another transgression. “You know what the punishment for mistakes is, Ciara. Hopefully, you have learned at leastthatmuch.”

“Come now, Bridget,” the voice of Uncle Brendan sounded off somewhere behind them, and Ciara immediately felt relieved. “This is a wedding, a joyful occasion. Or have you forgotten what those are like in your quest for perfection?”

Ciara could see the look of utter shock on her mother’s face. Uncle Brendan was her mother’s brother, and he never missed seizing a chance to show her that he was on his niece’s side, not on hers.

“I have always been on a quest for perfection, and it is exactly because I have been so bold to demand it of myself and of others that I have been able to obtain so much,” she replied, trying to obtain an air of aloofness, but it was obvious that her brother’s words struck a chord with her. “Then again, not all of us are able to obtain it.”

“Perfection is dull anyway.” Uncle Brendan turned to Ciara and her husband. “My mother always taught us to be ourselves, not to be perfect. You know that as well as I do, Bridget.”

He glanced at his sister, and Ciara knew that he was expecting a response from her.

“I don’t see what Mother has to do with this,” Ciara’s mother said, thinly veiling her outrage.

“Our mother was there for Ciara when you were not in your everlasting pursuit of… perfection, was it?” Uncle Brendan said somehow victoriously. “She taught Ciara to be herself, even when that seemed to be the wrong thing to do. But being true to yourself… only the bold ones can do that, not that I expect you to know much about boldness, Bridget, my dear. You were always too busy assimilating yourself into your surroundings, preferring the safe option.”

“Mother taught her silly things like believing in fairy tales,” Ciara’s mother scoffed. “No one has any use of fairy tales.”

Ciara begged to differ. She had many stories from the nunnery when her grandmother’s tales and legends were her only means of remaining sane, but now was not the moment to go back to that dark place. She promised herself she would never return, and she meant it. Returning, even if only in her thoughts, was difficult enough as it was.

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