Page 103 of A Duchess Bound
He had. But Gerard supposed that he ought not to have expected that Dorothy would be there. Their parting the night before had been painful enough. It would be intolerably cruel to expect her to also attend the wedding, where he married another woman, and her sister, no less.
“I suppose it is for the best that she is not here,” Gerard said.
Leedway cast him an odd look, but he said nothing.
“Are you ready, Your Grace?” the vicar asked.
Gerard turned away from Leedway and nodded. “Of course.”
That was possibly the worst lie that he had ever told; Gerard could not have beenlesscertain that he was making the correct choice. A part of him wanted to withdraw the proposal and tell everyone that he had made a dreadful error. They would not be surprised, would they? Gerard had never been a kind man. Itwould be more expected for him to prove feckless than to marry Bridget, as he had promised. And yet?—
There was Dorothy’s happiness to consider. He could not love her like she ought to be loved, and he could not make himself more deserving of her. However, he could ensure that Lady Bridget had a suitable husband. Gerard must do this for her, for Dorothy.
The chapel doors opened again. Gerard blinked, taken aback as his bride entered. The lady’s gown was exquisite. Doubtlessly, the blue gown with its silver embroidery and tiny pearls was the best that Lady Bridget had, and it fit her wonderfully. Gerard had never noticed before that she had such soft curves, quite like her sister’s.
A traitorous, shameful part of him wondered if it might be possible to imagine that shewasDorothy. His bride had elected to wear a rather opaque lace veil, rather than the more usual bonnet. From a distance, he could not even discern her face.
Strange. But this would be the only wedding that Lady Bridget was promised, so he supposed that the young miss ought to wear whatever she wished, regardless of how unusual it might be.
“Ah, the bride has arrived,” the vicar said happily. “Please, come here, and we shall begin.”
Leedway rose from his seat and escorted Lady Bridget to the altar, where Gerard waited. Gerard could not bring himself to look at Lady Bridget, but he tried to smile for her. His teethlocked together, and his jaw strained from the effort. Every part of his body screamed for him to flee from the chapel, consequences be damned! It was not as though Leedway would truly kill him.
Probably.
The vicar cleared his throat. “I shall begin by reading fromThe Book of Common Prayers.”
Gerard wished that weddings were not such abominably long affairs, for it would leave his thoughts with too much time to wander to the incomparable Dorothy. She had not come to the wedding, and that was likely for the best. Otherwise, he would have spent the entire ceremony searching for her face among their guests.
The vicar opened the book, his wrinkled hands shaking as he turned through the thin pages. He cleared his throat twice. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God…”
It was not too late to flee. Or was it?
Gerard dared glance at Leedway, who had tilted his head back to listen to something that his sister, the Duchess of Sarsen, whispered under her breath. The Duke of Sarsen looked terribly cross. He might be the one person as vexed as Gerard was.
The vicar kept speaking, the words falling into a vague hum that pricked just at the edge of Gerard’s awareness. He had attended weddings before. He knew what the words were. There was little need to listen until it was asked of him, until he was forced to act in this ceremony.
The vicar broke into a coughing fit, and Gerard stifled a sigh. Ordinarily, he might have felt some pity for the poor man, whose voice it seemed might not last through the entire ceremony, but at the moment, Gerard was a little vexed. Did the man need to make this ceremony last even longer?
“Therefore, if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace,” the vicar said.
Gerard forced down the lump that rose in his throat. For a long, glorious moment, he dared to imagine Leedway leaping to his feet and shouting that the wedding could not continue. Or perhaps, Lord Fourton would interrupt the ceremony, having been seized by some conviction to do the right thing for the first time in his miserable life.
Neither of those things happened.
Reluctantly, Gerard looked at last at his bride. He recognized her face, even beneath the layers of intricately tattered lace, and he inhaled sharply. Gerard took a stumbling step back, and his bride laughed. “Did you truly not notice that it wasme?” Dorothy’s soft, familiar voice filled his senses. “Can you not tell my sister and me apart?”
He did not think, only tore the veil back from his face to confirm what his heart wanted so desperately to believe. It was Dorothy, lovely Dorothy, who stood before him.
“What?” he scarcely dared to believe. “But I thought?—”
Leedway cleared his throat. “I gave it considerable thought. It occurred to me just this morning that I agreed you could marry my sister, and although your offer was quite noble, it…seemed shameful to force you to marry Bridget, whom you do not love, when you could marry Dorothy, for whom I daresay you have a great fondness.”
“Unless you do not wish to marry at all,” Dorothy said. “You may refuse if you feel as if we have deceived you.”
The vicar cleared his throat. “What has happened?” he asked.
“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Leedway said, “only two people who are very much in love being joined together in the sight of God.”
