Page 75 of Cherish and the Duke
Still, he had liked that description. Fire and water. He had scoffed at the fortune teller’s words at the time, but he understood them now. Cherish was clearly that perfect match for him. She was gentleness and calming waters. He was toooften arrogant and demanding, although he tried his best not to be this way. But it was easy to fall into this sort of behavior when everyone fawned over him and kissed his arse even when he was being unreasonable. No one wanted to tell a duke the truth for fear of offending him. Cherish would always rein him in and speak to him with honesty.
“You suddenly seem far away,” she said, taking his arm.
“No, Cherish. For once, I am ever present.”
“And ready to marry me?”
He smiled. “Ridiculously eager.”
Her step was light and agile as they walked to the waiting carriage. She had a serene confidence about her, and although she looked younger than her twenty-four—almost twenty-five—years, she had likely exhibited this same serenity as a girl looking after her ailing parents. He did not think there was a moment in her life when she could have been described as inconsiderate or rebellious, or had ever behaved like a frivolous peahen.
Perhaps this was why they were destined to be a good fit for each other. She would ground him with her common sense and he would push her to be more daring.
He breathed a sigh of relief when she hopped into the carriage without difficulty, showing no lasting effects from yesterday’s tumble other than a scrape to her elbow that was presently bandaged and covered by her long glove. The slight swelling in her wrist had already subsided by the time he inspected it last night. As for her hip, she was no longer wincing with each step. The discomfort was not something she could easily hide. He would have spotted it had she been in pain.
Of course, he would take a closer look tonight. She could not hide her scrapes and bruises once she had her clothes off.
They settled in Fiona’s carriage, just the four of them, since Margaret was to ride in the carriage immediately behind theirswith her parents. Other conveyances stood in readiness for the rest of Fiona’s guests, who would follow shortly behind them.
Gawain was sorry Cherish had no family to stand beside her, but she did not appear to be suffering for the lack. He gave no further thought to the matter, since Fiona had taken on the role of clucking mother hen and beloved sister to Cherish.
Within the hour, they were at St. Paul’s Church, the small, but splendid, stone church nestled between lush, rolling hills not far from the sea. Nothing was far from the water here in the country outside of Brighton.
By the time the last guests arrived, he and Cherish had signed the required ledgers and were standing in front of the altar, merely waiting for the stragglers to enter and settle in the pews before the vicar proceeded with the ceremony.
Cherish was incandescent as the vicar began his sermon.
As for him, he was on alert for her uncle and any last-minute tricks the oaf might try to pull. But he needn’t have worried, for all went smoothly. There was no sign of the man or his ogress wife.
Before he knew it, the vicar was leading them through the recitation of their vows.
“I do,” Cherish said a moment later, her voice echoing sweetly around him.
“Gawain, Duke of Bromleigh, Marquess of…” The vicar listed his titles, a list that ran ridiculously long when one added the knighthoods, too.
Cherish’s eyes rounded in surprise.
He arched an eyebrow, silently conveying that he was just a man, no matter how many honors were accorded him. He had been no more than a soldier until his father’s and brothers’ untimely passing. Just a soldier and nothing more. He did not want Cherish to get caught up in his supposedly elevated status.
But as the vicar read off the last of his titles, Cherish grinned and rolled her eyes at him. He grinned back, knowing she would never become full of herself now that her status was raised to duchess. “I do,” he replied, his voice ringing loud.
A cheer rose from the crowd as the vicar declared them man and wife.
He kissed Cherish lightly on the lips.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Same here,” he replied, not certain that she heard him, as everyone now rushed forward and surrounded them with cheers and well wishes.
Shortly thereafter, everyone returned to Fiona’s manor for the wedding breakfast. Gawain noted the flicker of surprise in Cherish’s eyes when Fiona’s staff greeted her as Your Grace. After a moment, it sank in. Her smile broadened and she accepted their good wishes with all the graciousness of a true duchess.
“How does it feel, Cherish?” he asked when they sat down to enjoy the elaborate repast organized by Fiona’s cook on a mere day’s notice.
“To be your wife?” She took his hand under the table and cast him an affectionate smile. “Vastly different from my quiet existence. It is amazing how quickly one becomes the center of attention merely because of one’s title. But I shall enjoy being your wife immensely, especially in our private hours together.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur, and yet also felt interminable. Gawain hardly had a moment alone with Cherish. Finally, as the evening wore on, he took her hand in his and bade all the revelers a good night.
They retired to her bedchamber because he did not want their first night spent in the bed Lady Albin had commandeered from him and been sleeping in as recently as two nights ago. Her heavily perfumed scent still permeated the drapesand bedcovers, as though she had purposely sprayed her scent around his room, like a jungle cat marking its territory.
