Page 20 of Her Bear of a Duke

Eleanor seemed to be blamed for most things, but Dorothy tried not to mind that; it was better that her sister took it than her.

"Will there be many people in attendance today?"

"Your father has invited many members of theton,but as far as I know there will be nobody from the Duke's family there."

"I see. Has he told you why?"

"No, although I can make my assumptions. Shame, I suppose,"

"Shame?"

"Of course. He is not marrying a prized jewel of a young lady, after all. He is marrying you."

Her tone had been so sweet that had Dorothy not been listening she would have thought her mother was complimenting her. Unfortunately, she had been listening and she had not been surprised by what she had heard. It did not matter what she did. She could have been marrying a prince, and her mother still would have been unable to say something kind to her. She had always been undeserving of her family's affection, and that would never change.

"Come along now," she continued. "We must leave for the church."

Dorothy nodded, biting her lip.

The carriage ride was endless. It continued on and on, and her parents watched her the entire way. She had fixed a smile on her face, an attempt to feign pleasure about what was to happen, but she knew it was not convincing. Fortunately, she also knew that her parents did not care how she was feeling. As long as she made it down the aisle and recited her vows, they would be content.

She could no longer see herself, save for her reflection in the window, but she became all too aware of how she looked. Her sleeves began to dig into her arms, stinging, and her corset had been fastened too tightly and caused her breathing to become shallow. She tapped her foot on the floor rapidly, trying to think of anything else but how dreadful she felt. She was not a beautiful lady worthy of a duke, even a recluse.

"Do not disappoint me today," her father said in a calm but firm voice. "I expect you to do this well. It is not difficult, only a few vows."

"Yes, Father."

"And walk properly. You are to stand as tall as you can, even if you are not…"

He trailed off, but Dorothy knew what he had meant.

"And smile, a nicer one than that. You are supposed to be filled with joy."

Yes, Dorothy thought, her wedding day was supposed to be joyous, and her smile was supposed to be genuine and warm. She was supposed to be in love with the gentleman that she was marrying, but she was not. It was expected that she would at least pretend to be, but she was not a good liar. It was not possible for her, no matter how hard she tried.

"Are you not happy?" her mother asked. "You ought to be. This is everything that a young lady could possibly ask for."

"It is, I know. I am happy. It is all simply overwhelming. I have never been the center of attention like this, and I do not know what to do."

"You will do what is expected of you and nothing less. I have given too much to this match for you to ruin it, and so you will not."

Dorothy nodded, and decided that she would not disclose any other fears about what was to come, as they quite clearly did not care.

They reached the church, and her mother entered, leaving Dorothy with her father. She willed him not to say anything to her, and mercifully he did not. The wait continued, and she suddenly found herself quite eager to begin the ceremony so that it could be done with.

At last, the time came. She took her father's arm, and began the walk down the aisle. She could see the tall and broad man waiting for her at the altar, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he trying not to recoil at the sight of her? Was he rehearsing his vows? Was he simply waiting for it all to be done with?

Thinking helped her reach the altar quicker. Once there, the ceremony began. The Vicar began speaking, but Dorothy was not listening. All that she could hear was her father's voice, instructing her to smile and remain silent unless spoken to. She looked up at the Duke, but he was not making such efforts. His face was stern, serious, in a way that she had never seen. She thought that he was regretting his decision, and that he would turn on his heel and run out of the church if given half a chance, but the ceremony continued and his feet remained planted there.

"Therefore," the Vicar proclaimed, "if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

Dorothy could think of a reason or two, and she could see from the smirk forming on the Duke's face that he also could, but no objections were made. Dorothy wondered, for a moment, what would become of her if by chance someone had one. She would have likely been cast out of her home, a disappointment forever and always, and sent to the Highlands to be with her equally dreadful sister.

She wondered for a moment if that would have been such a terrible thing.

"Morgan Lockheart, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

It was time for the vows. All that they had to do was utter two simple words, and then it would all be done with, but Dorothy did not think she could do it. She could feel her throat closing and it was not even her turn to speak. She looked at her groom, and wondered if he would take this opportunity to change his mind after all. The Duke looked down at the Vicar, then to the guests, and then back to her.

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