His bride.

HisDuchess.

And she was scowling at him.

Delightful.

CHAPTER 8

Just one step.

One step in front of the other.

One more step closer to the altar, to binding herself eternally to a man she had swornneverto surrender her heart to.

If only he did not look like a Greek statue made of flesh and blood, his hair of burnished gold glinting in the sunlight as he smiled at her.

Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest at the sight of him—the foolish, traitorous thing.

One more step, she reminded herself resolutely.Just one more step…

“Are you nervous, darling?”

She looked up to find her papa smiling down at her affectionately.

He was a good man, her papa, and she had wanted nothing more than to marry a man like him—a man she could love and would love her in return.

“I know that it seems rather daunting to marry the Duke,” he murmured, patting the gloved hand tucked in the crook of his arm. “But he assured me that he will treat you well.”

Of course, he will treat me well. He probably still thinks he owes me for saving him from Miss Delaney’s clutches.

As if a man of the Duke’s station needed saving.

If she had simply told him the truth from the very beginning, he might have found a better way to cancel the wedding. One that would not have necessitated her sacrificing her reputation at the altar of matrimony.

“I am just a little nervous, Papa,” she said softly. “I have never done this before.”

The Marquess chuckled softly. “You are doing wondrously, darling girl. And if the way your groom is looking at you is any indication, then this will be a happy marriage, indeed.”

Can a marriage be happy without love?

Can she learn to live with an unrepentant rogue for a husband for the rest of her life?

So many questions floated in her head, but they had already reached the altar, and her papa was already entrusting her hand to her groom.

She looked up at him again, her heart fluttering when he grinned at her.

That damned charming grin.

If she was not careful, that grin could lead her down paths she dared not tread.

“Hello there, sweetheart,” he muttered under his breath. “Glad to see you wearing a dress for this occasion.”

How can he still afford to joke on such an occasion?

She shot him a half-hearted glare, but like everything else, it seemed to just slide off his slick hide.

“Oh, do not look at me like that,” he sighed dramatically. “We are supposed to be so dreadfully in love that we could not wait to get married.”