Page 14 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“I hope so, too,” Edwin returned, although he could not entirely prevent his face from creasing into a concerned frown as much as a smile. “It’s wonderful news, Hugh. We really do wish you and Miss Wright all the best.”

It was an ambiguous congratulation on his uncle’s part, and Hugh was unsure of its sincerity. Still, as he watched their carriage pull away, he felt sure that he’d made the right decision to make his intentions clear.

A new phase of his life was beginning, and for the first time, he was looking forward to it.

CHAPTER SIX

“You’re really going to wear your old green silk dress to get married?” Jemima questioned her sister as they walked arm in arm down one of the paths in Hyde Park on a sunny Thursday morning.

“I am.”

“You could easily buy a new dress with your allowance, and Father is so happy about the wedding that he’d probably buy you three.”

“I’m not very interested in dresses, Jemima,” Catherine explained patiently. “I never have been, have I? I like my old green silk dress, and it’s a perfect fit.”

“Yes, but this is your wedding day,” Jemima pointed out, unwilling to let it go so easily. “Even for you, surely that’s different. There’s still time for us to get a new gown made—perhaps at Madame Dupont’satelier?”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t we getyoua new dress from Madame Dupont instead, Jemima? That would make us both happy, and Father would certainly pay for anything he thinks will help you catch a husband.”

“Come on, then.” Jemima grinned and steered them both to a side path in the direction of the dressmaker’s shop. “There’s no time like the present, and once we get there, you might even change your mind. Let me at least get you to try some clothes on at Madame Dupont’s. How about nightgowns? We could get you something special to surprise the Duke with on your wedding night!”

“Jemima!” Catherine gasped, shocked at her younger sister’s line of thinking, but also smiling despite herself at her enthusiasm, and inwardly disturbed all over again that she could not summon any revulsion at the thought of her future husband seeing her in night attire.

Trying to compose her expression, Catherine focused on the pathway ahead of them and the other people strolling by.

Earlier, she had done her best to ignore everyone around them, not really wanting to stop and chat about her upcoming wedding. Now, she observed the busyness of the park and the presence of numerous Society figures, nodding politely when she spotted acquaintances.

Soon, she began to notice passers-by whispering and looking back at someone or something nearby. It was a few minutes more before she spotted the approaching black-clad figure whowas triggering this interest. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted the fitted silk mask on the man’s face and realized that it was the Duke of Redbridge himself.

“What is it?” Jemima asked as Catherine’s arm tightened involuntarily around her own.

“Up ahead,” Catherine answered, nodding in the Duke’s direction. “Try not to stare. I believe he wouldn’t like it, and everyone else is doing it.”

“It’s your Hugh.” Jemima grinned and raised her arm subtly in greeting to her future brother-in-law.

“Jemima!” Catherine hissed, unsure why their impending encounter or Jemima’s action to encourage it made her feel so nervous.

“You’re about to marry the man.” Jemima laughed. “You have to at least acknowledge him when you see him in the park. Anyway, I want to talk to him. As I told you already, I rather like your Duke.”

As Jemima dragged her towards the Duke of Redbridge, Catherine tried not to make eye contact, hoping that this would calm the unexpected reddening of her cheeks. Looking in all other directions, she saw that many eyes were still following him, the whispers drifting in the air.

The mask obviously made him distinctive, although his height and the deep black mourning suit likely also stopped him from blending into a crowd easily. His saturnine expression and vexed manner only made him stand out more.

It occurred to Catherine that the Duke would attract far less attention if he put on a gray summer suit and took off his mask, regardless of the scars that might lie beneath it.

“Miss Wright, Miss Jemima,” Hugh greeted, raising his hat with a small bow as he stopped before them.

“Your Grace.” Jemima curtsied gracefully as Catherine returned her fiancé’s nod, feeling stiff and clumsy under the curious eyes around them.

Looking up into Hugh’s blue gaze, she was comforted by the fact that at least he seemed as uncomfortable with this situation as her, his jaw tense and his eyes fixed intently on the two sisters, likely in order to avoid seeing anyone else around them.

“Hyde Park is busy today, but I suppose this is always the case on a sunny day during the Season,” Jemima said, starting a conversation as she might with any acquaintance.

“It is busy,” Hugh agreed. “I don’t spend much time in London during the Season or otherwise, but there are certainly many more people out than I anticipated.”

That answered some of Catherine’s questions. If Hugh was rarely in London, he was probably not used to going about in Society, and Society would be equally not used to seeing him. He might well not realize how outlandish his outfit and manner were.

Still, there had to be more to it than just his outer appearance. Catherine had rarely witnessed such blatant whispers and stares from Society figures, except perhaps when Lord Mickledown had decided to publicly own his reputation as a rake by strolling in this very park arm in arm with both of his expensively-kept mistresses.

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