Page 55 of His Runaway Duchess

Beautiful.She’s beautiful. So beautiful.

Their eyes met, and Daphne broke into a slow, nervous smile. It wasn’t proper, of course, for a bride to smiletoomuch on her wedding day. Maiden modesty and polite reluctance to wed were required, but apparently, Daphne had not heard of this rule. Her smile grew as she advanced towards him, turning into a wide grin.

But her smile faltered as they came closer, and Edward realized a moment too late thathewas not smiling, only staring at her with what she no doubt interpreted as a glare.

Too late to change it now.

Alex, who had escorted Daphne down the aisle, beamed up at his father, and Edward remembered to smile encouragingly.

“Well done,” he whispered as Alex took his place beside him. “The rings?”

“I have them, Papa.”

Edward breathed out. That was a relief, at least. Perhaps entrusting the wedding rings to an eight-year-old boy wasnota good idea.

It didn’t matter, though. They were here, and it was time. Side by side, Edward and Daphne turned to face the rector.

“Dearly beloved…” he began.

The rest of the wedding ceremony was a blur. The rector droned on. Vows were made, rings exchanged, and then it was over.

Well, almost over.

“You may kiss the bride, Your Grace,” the rector said, smiling and taking a step backward.

Edward hesitated, glancing down at his new wife.

Daphne was looking up at him, her face flushed. To his surprise, he saw desire glittering in her eyes when she looked at him.

She wants me,he realized, with a flash of disbelief.Last night changed things.

I should not have done it.

She doesn’t deserve whatever curse hangs over me. I don’t deserve her. It’s up to me to stop this, then.

Swallowing, he leaned forward, placing a chaste peck on her cheek. When he pulled back, Daphne was looking up at him still, but this time she was confused, and perhaps a little… a little hurt.

Edward turned away to face the congregation. It was easier than looking at the hurt in her eyes.

Daphne glanced at her new husband several times during the wedding breakfast.

He didn’t speak to her. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d mechanically promised to love and honor her forever.

I’m married. I’m married. I am married.

The words kept rolling around and around in her head, echoing in disbelief.Married.

It hadn’t escaped her notice that the panic she’d felt when she was approaching the Duke of Clapton was absent when she walked towards Edward. There’d been a flutter of nerves, of course, a little prickle of anxiety at being looked at so intensely, but the chest-crushing fear had not been there. Never once during the ceremony had she thought that she could not breathe. She hadn’t even stuttered during herI-dos.

But there was a sort of awkwardness between them now, an ice that had just sprung up over the past few hours. Last night had felt soeasy, and she’d felt as though they could never be uncomfortable with each other again.

Well, she was wrong about that.

The two of them sat at the head of a long, wide table, set up in the lower half of the ballroom. Musicians sat on a platform at the other end of the room, the gentle music drifting down. The breakfast was mostly over, and people were talking now instead of eating, or milling around. Nobody was dancing yet, though. They couldn't, not until the bride and groom took to the floor. Preferably together.

“Did you like the waistcoat my mother picked out for you?” Daphne said, in something like desperation.

She was hungry, but the constricting gown prevented her from eating too much. Or breathing too deeply. She was looking forward to taking it off at the end of the day, although she had a sneaking suspicion that Edward would not be the one unlacing it for her.

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