Page 21 of Unraveled By the Duke
Celia looked heartbroken, and Alexander found himself feeling sympathy for her.
How would it be if Hyacinth and Violet turned against me? I would be bereft.
As Celia sat down, Alexander reached out to take her hand in both of his. She looked at him in utter surprise, a feeling he shared. He could not deny that it felt good to comfort her.
“The wedding can be arranged as soon as I have obtained a special license. My solicitor will do that and has the clout to expedite it with the powers that be,” Alexander said. “It will be as pleasant as we can make it. I would not rush you down the aisle and through the ceremony with no thought. In my family’s chapel, at Cheverton.”
Celia nodded. “I am sure the ceremony will be lovely and the chapel eminently suitable. I just wish that this was happening with my mother and father joyous at the prospect. However, we must take life as we find it, mustn’t we?”
CHAPTER 7
The wedding was small and quite unlike anything Celia had imagined for herself. Her parents and siblings were present to fulfill the need for witnesses and appearances’ sake.
The Duke of Larcher stood for Alexander. He was young and handsome in a clean-faced manner. Not the sort she imagined to be friends with an incorrigible rake. Apart from him, there were no others on Alexander’s side of the aisle.
Surely a sign of his character. No one of substance wants to celebrate his wedding. And yet, what have I seen personally to indicate that he is a terrible rogue? Has he tried to seduce me? It could be seen that way, but I feel equally culpable for those moments.
These thoughts raced through her mind as her father walked her down the aisle of the chapel on the grounds of Alexander’s home, on the outskirts of London’s western fringes. He had looked herup and down as she stepped out of the carriage that had carried her across the city, from Finsbury to Kensington.
“You look beautiful, daughter,” he had said in a voice that was husky with emotion.
It had been enough to make tears well up in her eyes. The first hint that her father still loved her, that he might even forgive her.
Please, Lord, let him see it in his heart to forgive me. I do not believe that everything that has befallen me was my fault, but I will accept all the blame if I need to just to earn my father’s forgiveness.
Alexander had waited for her at the altar, hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He had glanced over his shoulder at a whisper from the Duke of Larcher. Glanced, then casually looked away, only to look back a heartbeat later. His eyes remained fixed on Celia.
She could not help but look back at him. Even knowing that their marriage was not based on love but necessity, that it was a sham to them if not everyone else, did not negate the warmth she felt at the feel of his eyes on her.
She bit her lip unconsciously, her heart thundering.
Her father gently patted her hand. “All will be well, dear,” he whispered. “You are a Frid, never forget that. No piece of paper will ever change who you are.”
Her mother had smiled as she passed her, and her father handed her to the waiting groom.
Celia stood beside Alexander, looking into his eyes. And saw… something. The glimmer of an emotion that a bride should expect to see in the eyes of her groom. Then, it was gone, as though a door had slammed shut.
Alexander’s face became impassive, and he looked at the priest, not looking back at Celia for the rest of the ceremony.
At the wedding breakfast, Celia was introduced to a pretty woman of middle years with auburn hair and bright green eyes. With her was a younger woman similar enough in looks that Celia concluded she was her daughter.
More guests had been invited to the breakfast, held in Cheverton’s dining room. Celia had entered on her husband’s arm to a round of applause, led by the Duke of Larcher, who was the most enthusiastic of all.
Celia could almost believe in the wedding, convince herself it was real. It made her sad that this was simply for appearances’ sake. A gesture to say that there was no scandal to be seen here. No gossip to be had.
“May I introduce my mother, Violet, and sister, Hyacinth,” Alexander said.
Celia blinked and must have looked confused.
Hyacinth laughed and pressed a kiss to Alexander’s cheek, having to almost jump to reach high enough. Violet smiled indulgently and then looked solemnly at Celia, inviting the question.
“You do not seem old enough to be Alexander’s mother,” Celia offered.
“That is because I am not. Xander indulges us by referring to us as mother and sister. I was the second wife of Alexander’s father. My daughter and I are step relatives, but we have been a close-knit family, especially after my dear husband’s passing.”
Hyacinth beamed, hugging Alexander’s arm. “And he knows I love it when he introduces us so. Family is so important, do you not think?”
Celia’s sadness grew, but she smiled through it. “I heartily agree. I value my own immensely.”
