Page 2 of The Perks of being a Duchess
Nevertheless, her father still believed Holly to be madly in love with St. Ives, which is why he was presently walking the bride down the aisle and not dragging her away from it.
Speaking of which, her bridal march was nearly over. Just six or so steps away, the intimidating figure of the duke loomed. She straightened her spine and prepared to face the man who would soon be her husband.
He stood impossibly tall, his face clear of all expression, hands clasped behind his back. He was as unbearably handsome as he’d always been with his sandy hair artfully arranged over his forehead, though that did not tame the natural wildness of his locks.
Willow understood why Holly had fallen hard and fast. Had it not been for his eyes—which ruined the perfection of his Adonis-like features in her opinion—she might have fawned over him as well.
She could not see them now, but if she closed her own, she could envision those soulless black pools, filled with nothing but fathomless indifference. A chill passed through her.
Think of your goal.
Think of your family. The scandal.
Remember he is a tyrant.
The last was a sobering thought, reminding her of the demands he would make of her, the demands which had caused her sister to fall right out of love with him.
But Willow could handle one duke. There would be a scandal all the same, but this way, at least, Poppy would have a fighting chance of finding a respectable husband. And Willow would get what she truly wanted—a child.
Grand adventures of falling in love? She’d leave that to her sisters.
But she did want a particular kind of love: the kind that lasted forever, the kind that only grew fiercer with time, and the kind that required a husband. So, when the opportunity to secure a husband without prancing before hordes of gentlemen, hoping they took notice, and then having to endure a lengthy courtship appeared, Willow had seized it.
Her desire for a child was finally within her grasp.
And she would be a duchess. There were worse things in the world.
“What on God’s green earth are you doing?” An angry voice echoed through the church.
A hush fell over the ceremony like a heavy cloud and Willow was forced to a halt when her father stopped. Her knees almost gave out. Had she been caught out? Who did the voice belong to? Her heart skipped beat after beat, waiting.
But nothing.
Willow bit down on her lower lip and spared a nervous glance over her shoulder. When she found no enraged person, Willow let out a soft breath and nodded at her father, who led the last few steps to the duke.
St. Ives’s expression, from what she could gather behind her veil, gave nothing away. Not even the slightest fire burned in his eyes. His features were vacant, as if he were bored with the entire ordeal. Did he not care that someone might have stopped the wedding? Or was he justthatarrogant?
“Dearly beloved,” the priest hastily began citing the words that would bind them together. “We are gathered together here in the sight of God…”
Doubt began to seep into her skin. She always thought her actions through. For the most part, Willow did not lunge and leap, consequences be damned. But now a nagging thought entered her mind. While she knew why she had acted impulsively, she knew nothing of why the duke wanted to be hastily wed.
It did not matter, she told herself. And it truly did not. Regardless of his reason, everyone won in the end, right?
Or so she hoped. Standing beside St. Ives, who was so tall and solid, it was hard not to feel the quiver of nerves that skittered up her spine, sending tiny bursts of sparks along her skin.
Willow was bursting with questions. Did he feel nervous too? Did he suspect she was not his chosen bride? Was he furious behind his mask of indifference?
Willow found herself further dwelling on why she ought to have waited to marry and perhaps not steal her sister’s fiancé, abandoned though he may be. His anger, for one—he was a moody, broody lord. She could have married a quiet, endearing man instead. And, according to Holly, the duke had rules that must be followed. Strict rules. Rules that involved one slice of toast. Then there was her mother-in-law—the dragon duchess.
It almost seemed like she was marrying into a bad Shakespearean play.
Willow swallowed her misgivings. There was no turning back now in any case. Assuming they completed their vows, they were in this, for better and for worse.
“…have and to hold from this day forward…”
Think about tiny baby fingers and toes.
“…if either of you knows any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony…”
