Page 34 of Duke of Iron
“Heavens, child, no! It is not a quadrille!” Her mother looked as if she might require smelling salts. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a scandalized whisper. “All I can tell you… and I should not be telling you this at all… is that it all begins with a kiss.”
May blinked. A kiss? She thought of the brief, shocking press of Logan’s lips against her knuckles in his drawing room.
“Oh,” she murmured with dawning comprehension. “I see.”
Relief washed over Dorothy’s features. “Good. Very good.” She stood abruptly, straightening her skirts with a firm tug. “Now. It’s time.”
They left the bedchamber together, descending the staircase slowly. May held her skirts carefully. In the drawing room below, she saw her father and August waiting.
Her breath hitched, just for a moment, and she paused by the door.June leaned in. “I think Father is now expecting to marry off all his daughters before the Season ends.”
May smiled. “If he is wise, he shall lower his expectations.”
“Perhaps I shall run away after all,” June muttered. “If only to avoid being next.”
Their father turned at the sound of their voices. His expression softened as he looked at May. “My darling girl,” he said, coming forward to kiss her forehead. “You are exquisite.”
Their mother dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. She embraced May gently and whispered, “Are you certain, my love? Truly certain?”
May nodded. “I am ready.”
And I must be. There is no turning back now.
Yet as her mother stepped aside and her father offered her his arm, a chill swept down her spine. Not from cold. From the understanding that what lay ahead was fixed. There would be no reversal and no reconsideration.
When they arrived at the church, a hush settled over the gathered congregation as May entered, her hand resting lightly on her father’s arm.
Her heart beat far too fast, but she continued to remind herself that she chose this, and all would be well.
At the altar, her father turned to her and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Then he turned to Logan, his face solemn as he placed May’s hand into the Duke’s.
She looked up, hoping for the familiar curve of his mouth, the teasing light in his eyes that always made her forget to be nervous.
Logan did smile. But it was not the same.
There was no softness in it. No mischief. No spark. It did not reach his eyes, which remained cool, unreadable.
Why does he look like that?
The ceremony passed in a blur. Words were spoken. Vows exchanged. She repeated after the vicar as if from a dream, her voice steady though her mind reeled. Logan’s hand in hers felt steady and warm, but distant. Like he was performing a duty.
He is performing a duty. That is all this ever was.
She ought to have known. She had known. Still, she had hoped—perhaps foolishly—that the man who had made her laugh in Hyde Park and smiled when she teased him would make one final appearance today.
He did not.
When the vicar declared them man and wife, and the crowd burst into polite applause, May turned toward Logan. Their eyes met. His face was closed, utterly blank, like a door firmly shut.
He does not have to pretend anymore.
She blinked, forcing a smile for the benefit of those watching. There would be no retreat. Not now.
Placing her hand on his arm, they stepped down from the altar, the picture of a perfect, noble union. And she wondered, just briefly, if anyone could see that her heart was quietly crumbling beneath the lace and satin.
After a wedding breakfast that her family had spared no expense for, the carriage that was to take May to her new home waited. Guests clustered on the steps, their congratulations ringing like bells.
Logan guided May toward their carriage, his hand at the small of her back, showing the world that she was his now and she hadclaimedhis heart. She kept her smile radiant, aware of every eye upon them, and placed her gloved fingers in his when he helped her step inside.
