Page 17 of A Wallflower's Convenient Duke
As the echoes of his words lingered in the air, Lady Wicksford grasped the lifeline with unhesitating fervour. The relief in her eyes—thinly concealed beneath a façade of enthusiasm—betrayed the desperation that simmered beneath the surface. Without pause, she declared with effusive urgency that there was no other course left to them.
"Yes, yes," the viscountess exclaimed with increasing delight, the poorly veiled urgency thinly masking her desperation. "This fortuitous marriage must go through post haste. It is the only sensible solution to preserve the Ipswich name, to secure stability, and to avert the utter catastrophe of scandal. Truly, I can think of no better resolution."
The air in the room seemed to thicken as Blanche's gaze met Philip's, a tumult of emotions swirling in her eyes. Philip's pragmatic proposal, born out of necessity, had cast a shadow over the dreams of romance she might have harboured. The weight of societal expectations pressed heavily upon her shoulders, and he could see the inner conflict etched on her features. Unfortunately, there was no way they could escape this now.
The deal had been made.
Now, all that remained was to make the necessary arrangements—the very practical details of a day that would change their lives forever. And yet, in this moment, it all felt strangely unreal.
Lady Wicksford, eager to seize control of the situation, launched into discussions at once, undeterred by the palpable reluctance of both Philip and Blanche.
Blanche hesitated before finally nodding in agreement with her mother. What other choice did she have? The sight madePhilip’s heart sink. Neither of them wanted this, not truly. It was not likely to bring either of them much happiness, yet this was the only way to salvage what remained of their reputations.
Who would have thought that one innocent conversation about artefacts would have led them here?
Philip exhaled slowly, the weight of it all pressing down upon him. As his gaze met Blanche’s, he caught the quiet pain flickering in her eyes, and the realisation struck him with unexpected force.
Perhaps he should never have listened to his mother at all.
***
In the whirlwind of a chaotic week that followed behind the polished doors of the townhouse, Philip navigated the intricacies of acquiring a special wedding license. Urgency loomed over every decision, driven by the impending threat of worsening scandalous whispers that hovered like an ominous cloud. A private and perfunctory ceremony was hastily arranged, devoid of the usual joyous wedding fanfare.
Blanche, her countenance reflecting a mixture of resignation and determination, moved through the preparations with a grace that belied the tumult within. Philip could not help but notice how sadness clung to her with every decision made.
But that could not be enough to stop him.
Not when he had come this far.
The day arrived with a muted solemnity; the small gathering assembled within the townhouse bearing witness to a union that stood as a shield against scandal rather than a celebration of love. Blanche, adorned in a simple gown that mirrored the subdued atmosphere, stood beside Philip before a makeshift altar.
Philip tried his utmost to find some emotion as the vicar’s voice rang through the church, solemn and unwavering.
"Philip Brooks, will you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, remain faithful to her for as long as you both shall live?"
Philip’s jaw tensed. His voice, when it came, was measured but devoid of warmth.
"I will."
Next, the vicar turned to Blanche. Philip dared a glance at her, but she kept her gaze lowered, fixed on a distant point—anywhere but him.
"Blanche Ipswich, will you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, honour him, care for him, and stand by his side in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, remain faithful to him for as long as you both shall live?"
There was a pause.
Philip could feel the hesitation before she spoke.
"I will."
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Philip wondered if the gossips who had forced their hand felt any remorse, if the whispered words that had spiralled into scandal had ever seemed worth it to them. But speculation was useless now. The course was set.
The vicar continued, gesturing for Philip to place the ring upon Blanche’s hand. He took her fingers—cold, fragile, unwilling—and slipped the band onto them. His voice, steady yet hollow, filled the space between them.
"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”
Blanche barely looked at him as the ring settled into place.
Philip had never given much thought to marriage. He had assumed it would happen one day, though he had neverimagined it like this—his bride looking as if the world she knew had collapsed around her.
But there was no changing course now.
It was done.
