Page 39 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
Despite the questions that bothered her, she did her part as the bride. She suppressed the tremors racking through her. She would hold herself together, having learned the importance of not showing any weakness.
When the ceremony concluded, Elizabeth and Daphne rushed to her and gave her tight hugs.
“I-I can’t believe you’re married,” Elizabeth whispered, trying her best to blink her tears away. “I wish you could see yourself. You are such a beautiful bride, Marianne.”
“I can’t believe it either,” Daphne cried. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and wiping them. “I—we are going to miss you.”
Marianne’s throat felt tight. She tried her best not to cry. Not here, not in front of the Duke or her father.
“So, does that mean I won’t get any more lectures?” Wilhelmina asked, trying to inject mischief into her words, but she was also getting teary-eyed.
Marianne could not help but chuckle, even as she wiped some tears away. “I guess not, Mina.”
To complete the line of sisters, Victoria stepped forward, her chin lifted and her arms crossed. At just twelve, she carried herself like a general preparing for battle. Her eyes scanned her sister’s new husband with mock severity.
“You’d better take care of my sister, Your Grace,” she said, her tone sharp and clear. “If anything happens to her—like tripping on a rug or catching a chill because someone left a window open—I will write to every scandal sheet in London. And I’ll make sure they print it.”
Dominic blinked, visibly unsure whether she was joking. She wasn’t smiling.
“I see,” he said after a beat, recovering his composure. “I shall be very careful with the rugs, Lady Victoria.”
Victoria gave a single, satisfied nod, as though that settled the matter. But before turning away, she added under her breath, just loud enough for Marianne to hear, “You deserve someone who’ll fight for you.”
Marianne’s throat tightened. She reached for her sister’s hand, but Victoria had already stepped back into the line, her arms crossed once more.
Lady Victoria, indeed. Unlike her sweet twin, Daphne, the girl had yet to behave like a lady, but Marianne would do anything for her.
Altogether, her sisters’ sentiments were choking her. How could she leave these precious girls with her father?
When her father approached, she attempted not to show him how unsettled she felt. How shaken.
“Well done,” he whispered when he leaned close. “For once, you have proven yourself useful.”
The venom was for her alone. When he straightened to greet the others, everyone could see a smiling marquess, happy that his eldest daughter had finally married.
Deep inside her, Marianne felt a chill. Somehow, she believed that her trials with her father were not over.
She found no words to give. Even if she had them, her voice refused to come.
“Your sisters and I are returning to London. Your sister still has the Season ahead of her, after all,” her father added, and Marianne sensed a silent threat within his words.
Frozen, she moved on instinct alone, her fingers brushing the Duke’s sleeve as she took his proffered arm.
The carriage waited at the end of the steps. Before she could gather her thoughts, they were inside, already on their way to Oakmere.
Married.
The word settled like a stone in her chest. Technically, yes, they were married. But in truth?
She had no idea what any of it meant.
Not yet.
The carriage rumbled steadily as they rode deeper into the countryside. Marianne didn’t mind living away from London because she’d grown up in the countryside, yet she still felt a sense of foreboding.
Hills and trees blurred together in grey-green shadows, almost forming one large silhouette.
The silence inside the carriage was overwhelming. The Duke sat with his legs stretched out before him as if it was the most natural thing in the world—to be married to a woman who was not able to make much of a choice about it.
