Page 8 of His Arranged Duchess
Mama blinked, bewildered. “What are you saying, dearest?”
The rector popped his head out from the altar, like a nervous rabbit poking its head out of its burrow. “The wedding is going ahead?” he asked, hopefully.
“Yes, but there is a special license involved,” Frances answered briskly. “I should like you to inspect it. Can you do that?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“Excellent.” She turned to face the altar, rigid, waiting.
As she had expected, the duke came striding up beside her, pressing his shoulder against Nicholas’. The viscount stood, open-mouthed, clearly baffled.
“I suggest you move, sir,” the duke whispered quietly, dropping a wink. “You’re in my place.”
Realization drifted over Nicholas’ face, followed by pure, cold anger. He turned to Frances, face beet red.
“This is a joke,” he seethed. “You cannot do this to me.”
“It’ll be better for us both, Nicholas,” Frances responded quietly. “You always did think that I was beneath you. Now you can find yourself an heiress worthy of you.”
Nicholas spluttered in rage, turning to Mama. Mama said nothing. He spat out a curse and turned on his heel, storming away down the aisle.
The rector glanced between Frances and the duke, sure thatsomebodywould stop the madness. When nobody did, he cleared his throat, opened his bible, and began hesitantly to speak.
“Since we are to be married,” the duke murmured, “You might as well call me Lucien.”
Frances swallowed. “Yes. I suppose I must.”
CHAPTER 4
She won’t like it if I kiss her,Lucien thought.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the rector said, somewhat lamely. The poor man looked thoroughly miserable, and really, Lucien could not blame him. His wedding ceremony had not been what he’d expected, not in the slightest.
The special license, of course, had stood up to scrutiny on account of being valid. He hadn’t applied for it – Gray had. The man really did think of everything.
Turning to his new bride, Lucien took her hand in his. She wore no gloves, which was an unusual choice. He swiped the pad of his thumb over her knuckles and leant down to press a kiss there. He was careful to hold her gaze while he did so.
Maybe being married to me won’t be as bad as you think. Certainly, it will be better than being married to that milksop Lord Easton.
Miss Knight, however, flushed a vivid red and whisked her hand away, glaring at him. Lucien straightened up, saying nothing.
Interesting. My new bride does not seem very drawn to me. That’s a pity, as I am exceptionally drawn to her. My wedding night is not going to be what I expected, I think.
Of course, Lucien had planned to bed her. There was no sense in having a wife whom one didnotbed. He was reasonably pleased with his own charms and was confident that she would have a pleasant time too.
However, Miss Knight did not seem happy. He could not possibly insist on marital duestoday. Ladies, for good reason, seemed to balk a little at sharing beds with men they had just met. Husbands or not.
Lucien led the way down the aisle. He could hear from the chatter outside that the Duke and Duchess of Clapton had failed to herd the crowds away from the church.
Then, as Lucien stepped through the doors, somebody flew forward and seized him by the lapels.
“You really went through with it,” Lord Easton hissed, his nose inches from Lucien’s. “You married her, you vile wretch.”
“You had better let go of me, or you’ll be sorry,” Lucien responded evenly, not bothering to struggle or cry out. “If it comes to a fistfight, there’s a sure winner here and it is not you.”
“Nicholas, please!” Miss Knight yelped at his side, diving forward. “This is barbaric!”
Lord Easton ignored her. Lucien guessed that, at the root of it, this business was not about her at all. After all, the viscount was not in love with her.
