Page 37 of His Scarred Duchess
It had been a fortnight since that fateful day at Lady Alderton’s garden party. A fortnight of rushed preparations, hushed conversations, and sleepless nights filled with anticipation and dread.
Now, standing on the threshold of her new life, Adeline felt as though she were in a dream—or perhaps a fever-induced hallucination.
The family chapel, a quaint stone building that had stood on the Follett estate for generations, had been transformed for the occasion. White ribbons adorned the end of each pew, their long tails fluttering gently in the breeze coming through the opendoors. The air was heavy with the scent of lilies and roses, great swags of greenery and blooms draping every available surface.
Adeline took a deep breath, inhaling the heady perfume. She caught a whiff of beeswax from the dozens of candles illuminating the space, their warm glow lending a soft, ethereal quality to the scene. It was beautiful, perfect—everything a young lady might dream of for her wedding day.
And yet, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was an actress in a play, reciting lines she hadn’t fully memorized.
“Stand straight, my dear,” her father admonished, his hand tightening on her arm. “A duchess must always carry herself with dignity and grace.”
Adeline nodded mutely, straightening her spine despite the weight of her elaborate gown. Her honey-brown hair had been coaxed into an intricate arrangement of curls and braids, secured with pearl-tipped pins and crowned with a delicate tiara—a loan from the Pemberton family vault, she’d been told. A gossamer-thin veil cascaded down her back, the ethereal fabric seeming to float in the air behind her.
As the music swelled, signaling the start of the procession, Lord Brenton turned to face his daughter fully. His eyes, usually so stern and unyielding, held a hint of something she couldn’t quite name—pride, perhaps, or a touch of wistfulness.
“Adeline,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “You look… you look very fine, my dear. Your mother would have been proud to see you today.”
The unexpected praise, coupled with the rare mention of her mother, made a lump form in Adeline’s throat. She blinked rapidly, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. The last thing she needed was to walk down the aisle with red, puffy eyes.
“Thank you, Father,” she managed, offering him a tremulous smile.
Lord Brenton nodded brusquely, his moment of sentimentality passing as quickly as it had come. “Now, remember what I said. You’re to be a duchess, Adeline. The eyes of thetonwill be upon you. You must comport yourself with the utmost propriety at all times. No more… incidents, like the one at Lady Alderton’s party. Do you understand?”
Adeline felt heat rise to her cheeks at the memory. “Yes, Father. I understand.”
“Good,” he said, patting her hand awkwardly. “Well then, I suppose we shouldn’t keep the Duke waiting any longer. Are you ready?”
Ready? Adeline almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. How could one ever be truly ready for such a monumental change? In the space of a few short weeks, she had gone from a resigned spinster to becoming the wife of one of England’s most eligible bachelors. It was all happening so fast, like a whirlwindthat had swept her off her feet and deposited her here, on the threshold of a new life.
But there was no time for second thoughts now. The music had changed, signaling their cue to enter.
With a deep breath, Adeline nodded to her father. “I’m ready,” she said, surprised by the steadiness of her voice.
As the doors swung open, revealing the intimate gathering of a select few nobles, Adeline felt a curious calm settle over her. Whatever came next, there was no going back now. For better or worse, her fate was tied to Edmund’s—to the Duke of Holbrook’s.
She caught a glimpse of him standing at the altar, his broad shoulders and commanding presence unmistakable even from a distance. For a moment, their eyes met, and Adeline felt a jolt of… something. Fear? Excitement? She couldn’t be sure.
But as she took her first step down the aisle, her father’s arm steady beneath her hand, she silently made a vow to herself. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever Society might throw at her, she would face it all with the grace and dignity befitting her new station.
She was about to become the Duchess of Holbrook, and she would do everything in her power to make her family—both old and new—proud.
With her chin held high and her steps measured and graceful, Adeline began her journey towards her future, the whispers and gasps of the assembled guests fading into the background as she focused on the man waiting for her at the altar.
The wedding breakfast was a lavish affair, held in the grand ballroom of the Folletts’ townhouse. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, their light glancing off the fine China and silverware adorning the long tables. The air was filled with the hum of conversation and the clink of champagne glasses, a veneer of gaiety overlaying the undercurrent of gossip and speculation.
Adeline sat at the head table beside Edmund, acutely aware of the distance between them despite their physical proximity. Throughout the meal, he barely glanced in her direction, his attention seemingly focused on his plate or on making polite conversation with those seated nearby.
His indifference stung more than Adeline cared to admit. She found herself wondering if he truly found her so appalling that he couldn’t bear to look at her, even on their wedding day. The thought sent a fresh wave of insecurity through her.
Her discomfort was only heightened by the steady stream of well-wishers approaching to offer their congratulations. Many of their comments, while outwardly polite, carried a sharp edge that she couldn’t help but notice.
“My dear Lady Adeline—or should I say, Your Grace,” simpered Lady Beatrice Forsyth, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “What a surprising wedding. Who would have thought, after all this time, that you would make such an advantageous match?”
Adeline forced a smile, even as she felt the barb sink deep. “Thank you, Lady Beatrice. The Duke and I are very happy.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Lady Beatrice replied, her tone sugary sweet. “And how fortunate for your sister. I’m certain having a duchess for a sister will do wonders for her prospects when she comes out.”
Before Adeline could formulate a response, Edmund finally turned his attention to their guest.
