Page 17 of Her Ice-Hearted Duke
“She is… proper.” Theodore frowned, realizing he knew very little about his bride to be at all. “She’s…” He struggled.
Yes, Lady Margaret had indeed struck him as a proper lady. Yet she had also argued with him that night at the party with great fervor. There was a fire in her, a boldness that he had not observed at some distance in the days preluding the event.
“She is loyal to her family,” Gabriel suddenly stepped into the conversation. “She loves her sisters dearly. She despairs of their father’s habits, and she has wit and boldness in her, once you get her to open up a little. Evelina also tells me she is very clever.”
“You know her better than her future husband does.” Cedric pointed out with interest. “Is she beautiful, too?”
“Yes,” Theodore found himself answering right away. Gabriel must have found this an interesting answer, for he jerked his head around to look at Theodore.
He could remember in the midst of their argument the fury, the pink cheeks, the way those green eyes flashed. They were perhaps unusually large, but when close, he could see how beautiful they really were. He had also been unable to escape the rather powerful intensity of her gaze when he had offered her marriage. Despite the fact she had said little, restrained herself, he perceived her anger.
Her cheeks had reddened once again, her breath quickening. It had all made for a very alluring sight. A distracting one, at that.
“Well, then at least you will like your wife,” Cedric nodded with approval. “That is something.”
“It’s better if we love them,” Gabriel said, taking another large gulp of wine.
Theodore matched his action, drinking, but not his sentiment.
I have never thought of love, never courted the idea, never sought it. Such things are for Gabriel, but not for me.
“You are like a statue,” Gabriel hissed in Theodore’s ear.
He stood by the altar, facing the priest and no other in the church. Already it had been a more flamboyant affair than he had hoped for. Yes, the congregation was small, existing of just his friends and Margaret’s family, but there were flowers at the end of every aisle, and the priest said that hymns had been chosen by the bride, something that Theodore had made no arrangements for.
“What do you expect me to do?” Theodore whispered back to Gabriel at his side. “Jump for joy?”
“You are a man who wanted to be married, didn’t you? Think of it like this.” Gabriel smiled. “The whole thing has been achieved with extraordinary little inconvenience to yourself. You have had no need for a long courtship, no worry about a father who might not give his blessing, and no fear of the lady’s refusal. You have got what you wanted.”
Theodore glared at his friend. Maybe Gabriel had a point, yet something about this whole affair left him unsettled.
“Are you going to share what is bothering you or not?” Gabriel asked in a more serious tone.
“I thought to marry, I was intent on it, and I know it must be done.” Theodore nodded, showing he was not intending to back out now, least of all when he stood at the altar. “That does not necessarily mean I have always considered what marriage entails.”
“A companion for life? A friend? A lover?” Gabriel offered up.
Theodore felt as if a bucket of cold ice had been thrown over his head. He jerked his head back to face the priest.
I will not have a lover in Margaret.
A wild idea entered his mind. He recalled the simple moment when he had kissed her hand and wondered how Margaret would respond if he kissed her lips instead. The quickened breathing, the pink cheeks entered his mind, then he pushed it away.
I’m doing this for the sake of my business and standing in society. Nothing more.
The church doors opened, for Theodore could hear them swing aside. The priest smiled and waved a hand at the organist who struck up a note.
Theodore bristled, for he had certainly given no orders for organ music to be played either. It seemed Margaret had been bolder than he had given her credit for, in making her own arrangements.
“Turn and face her.” Gabriel hissed. “This is a woman you are marrying, not an ornament. For God’s sake, Theodore, face her!”
Theodore knew his friend was right. He could at least handle this moment with some amount of dignity, no matter the worries in his heart. He turned on the spot to look down the aisle.
Margaret was walking up the aisle on the arm of her father. Theodore scarcely noted that Viscount Edlerglen’s cravat was out of place, the waistcoat buttons misaligned, before his gaze slipped back to Margaret.
Where the Viscount’s appearance was scruff, Margaret’s was as perfect as was possible in comparison.
The white dress she was didn’t have a fray in it, and it sat neatly on her shoulders, each patch of lace across the bodice and skirt symmetrical with its sister. Her brown hair had been bundled at the back of her head, so the few loose locks were elegantly placed, laying delicately against the nape of her neck. Her own green eyes she struggled to raise, choosing instead to rest them on the bouquet in her hands.
