Page 17 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“Happily married men, you mean,” Catherine said darkly. “Men can do as they like after they wed, and their wives must just put up with it.”

“It is not that way with a good man, Miss Wright,” Madame Dupont disagreed respectfully. “A good man will care for his wife as she cares for him. I hope you will come to know that very soon with your Duke. Now, let us find you a nightgown that will please both you and your sister, and very likely your future husband, too.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“The carriage is outside,” Jemima called, clapping her white-gloved hands excitedly and almost dancing into the drawing room. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for a full hour,” Catherine said, without any hint of her sister’s joyful animation. “My remaining trunks are packed and labeled to be sent to Redbridge Hall. Maisie will pack away anything I’ve left this morning.”

Catherine’s voice and manner were businesslike, but her face softened as Jemima came to her and laid her head carefully on her shoulder so as not to disarrange her hair and bonnet. “I do wish you every happiness with your Duke, but I will miss you, too, Catherine. We’ve always been together, haven’t we? I can’t imagine being here at home without you.”

“Once I am settled at Redbridge Hall, you must come and stay with me, if the Duke approves. It seems he does not like company, generally, but he was agreeable enough to you, so I hope he will make an exception for you.”

“I’m sure he will.” Jemima smiled with greater confidence than Catherine felt.

Indeed, Catherine was half-wondering whether she would ever see her family or friends again. From the scraps of information she had gleaned of the Duke of Redbridge’s habits since their betrothal was announced, it seemed that he was used to secluding himself at Redbridge Hall for long periods without receiving any guests. As he was equally averse to going about in Society, this could mean a very lonely life for her.

“I believe that the Duke intends to play a greater role in Society once he has a wife,” Lord Sedgehall commented, putting on his gloves. “I’ve heard him say that a man of position is not complete without a wife.”

While this remark was encouraging to Catherine in some ways, it dismayed her in others.

“As though a woman is merely an ornament to a man or a pretty object to be shown off in public,” she answered.

“His Grace is seeking companionship, Catherine, and a woman capable of bearing the responsibilities of the Duchess of Redbridge,” her father chided. “There is more than one reason why men choose to marry.”

“Of course, there is also the matter of producing heirs, isn’t there? As well as being comely, I do realize that I am meant to be the vessel to carry the Duke’s heir, too. Yours as well, Father,since your marriage produced only daughters.” Catherine could not keep the combative edge from her voice.

“If he only wanted the mother of his children to have a pretty face and a sweet temper, the Duke of Redbridge would have chosen your sister,” Lord Sedgehall retorted, perhaps equally quick to anger today.

“Are those the grounds on which you chose to marry our mother?” Catherine fired back. “Or only what you wished for later? Why did you even marry Mother at all?”

“We had no choice!” Lord Sedgehall thundered and then turned away with a groan. “Do not ask me that.”

“Please!” Jemima gasped, shocked and confused. “Father, Catherine, you mustn’t do this today! Both of you must be calm. It is my sister’s wedding day, and you have much on your minds. But you must not take your anxieties out on one another. We cannot have such arguments now. This should be a happy occasion, should it not?”

Albion took a deep breath and drew himself up with a resigned expression on his face. Catherine suspected that he was thinking more of the dignity of the occasion and Jemima’s happiness than anything concerning her well-being.

“It should.” He nodded. “Catherine is marrying the Duke of Redbridge, and her future is bright, whether she can see it or not. I am content with that.”

“I do not wish to argue today,” Catherine assured Jemima, and then the three of them walked out to the waiting carriage.

“Are you ready, Hugh?” Rebecca asked, fitting a small red carnation in his buttonhole and smoothing the lapels of his black suit. “You have the ring?”

The Duke nodded on both counts and then offered her his arm to assist her up the stone steps of St. George’s Church. There were still ten minutes until ten o’clock, when the ceremony was due to commence, and it occurred to him that Catherine might change her mind.

He could not blame her if she did so. The rest of the world certainly still shrank from him, as so amply demonstrated in Hyde Park that week. While Catherine had approached him boldly at her father’s house and had been politely detached during their chance meeting in the park, she might have reflected on her choice since then or had time to listen to the meddling tongues of the ton.

If his betrothed did change her mind, at least they had published no details of the wedding service itself in theTimesand therefore there was no one come to stare and whisper this morning. There would be few witnesses if Catherine did leave him at the altar. He didn’t even have a best man…

If Edwin and Lady Georgina had accepted his invitation, Hugh would have asked his uncle to be his best man. There wascertainly no one else in his life more obviously fitted for the role. Hugh had been taught at home by the best private tutors his grandmother could hire. While his education was thorough, its manner meant that he had no school or university friends to call on.

Nor had he ever joined any of the gentlemen’s clubs to which young gentlemen were normally introduced by their fathers or brothers. He belonged to no local haunts. When Edwin had sent a polite, regretful response to Hugh’s invitation, there had been no other candidates for best man. In fact, Hugh had no other guests at all except the Dowager Duchess.

“I have always liked the design of St. George’s Church,” his grandmother commented, drawing him out of his thoughts. “A most impressive portico, laid over six Corinthian columns. Imagine the effort needed to raise those massive stones into place, Hugh.”

“It is impressive,” he agreed, allowing this architectural distraction rather than dwelling on whatever was going to play out in the coming minutes.

“Especially impressive, since it’s even older than me. Did you know that it was once the parish church of George Frideric Handel? The building itself was designed by John James, a former pupil of Sir Christopher Wren…”

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