Page 3 of His Runaway Duchess

“It’s Emily. I am Emily. I am Emily, and we’re late.” Daphne held her mother’s gaze for a long moment. “It’s time to go, Mama.”

Octavia glanced at Emily, then at Daphne, then back to Emily again. She swallowed hard, lifting her chin.

“Sometimes I think I will never understand you girls,” she said, her voice quavering. “I suppose I should give up trying. Well, come along, then. We are going to be late.”

The church was packed. All sorts of fine carriages and horses were lined up outside, and some of the less illustrious guests were forced to stand outside or in the hallway of the church. The chatter and laughter drifted out across the courtyard, to where the bridal carriage was approaching.

I am not afraid,Daphne told herself.I am saving my sister. Am I not the stronger of the two of us? It is my responsibility to keep her safe, and if that means marrying some monstrous duke in her place, then so be it.

Emily had mentioned that the Duke was rather handsome, but Daphne had never found him so. He was cold and unfriendly, and would clearly resort to blackmail. He had never spoken toher, at least.

I’m going to be married. To him. For the rest of my life.

Well, that’s not so bad, is it? You said you would not marry, but really, what woman believes that when she tells it to herself?

The carriage lurched to a halt, and the door was opened. There was a straight, short path between the carriage and the church doors. Daphne could almost feel the prickle of countless eyes on her, judging and assessing.

“You do not have to do this, you know,” Octavia said abruptly, carefully not looking at either one of her children.

Emily was watching Daphne, an odd, pleading look in her eyes.

If I lose my nerve now, Emily will take my place. I will have failed her.

Daphne drew in a breath. “I’m afraid I must, Mama.”

Not giving herself an instant to indulge her cowardice, she climbed out of the carriage and strode into the church.

She remembered a moment too late that ladies, especially brides, were meant to mince around with dainty little steps. Daphne, however, had covered half of the distance between the church doors and the altar in the space of a few seconds.

Murmurs rose all around her, and as expected, she felt the gazes of the congregation like a thousand tiny pinpricks. She imagined that Anna and her husband Theodore were in the audience somewhere, both grim-faced.

Anna had been very open about her feelings regarding Emily’s wedding. Beatrice, their old family friend, would be there too, with her swollen belly and herhusband, who by all accounts adored her.

Daphne did not particularly want to see them. An ordinary person would not see the difference between her and Emily, but their close friends might.

Remembering the veil, Daphne hastily pulled it down over her face. The wretched spectacles were unbearable, but Emily never appeared in public without them, so Daphne could not appear without them.

Her husband-to-be was mercifully blurry through the spectacles. She remembered very little about his form and face, except that he had sharp, unblinking green-gray eyes that were more often than not fixed on Emily.

She reached the top of the aisle. For some reason, she found that she was out of breath. Why? She hadn’t walkedthatfast, and the distance was not very far. Why was she struggling to breathe?

With the spectacles in front of her eyesandthe veil over that, Daphne had the strangest sensation of being blindfolded, andthen gently smothered. Her chest was tight. Had they laced the gown too tight?

She forced herself to breathe in, trying to concentrate on how her lungs inflated.

I am breathing. I am.

Still, the tightness persisted, and she began to feel lightheaded. Her head thumped, and there was a strange echoing in her ears as if she were submerged underwater.

She was aware of Octavia and Emily standing behind her, moving to take their seats. Daphne had a feeling that if she turned and looked at her sister or their mother—oranyone—she would scream aloud and run for her life.

I cannot do this.

Her heartbeat was audible in her ears. Was a personmeantto feel their heart thrumming in their chest? No, she thought not. And had the Duke always been so tall? So imposing?

Daphne hated tall men.

She risked a glance up at him and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was staring down at her, and although his expression was blurry, she guessed that it was not a pleasant one.

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