Page 68 of Disguised Desires of a Scarred Duke
Chapter 28
Eleanor stood on the wide, round platform at the dressmaker’s shop, getting fitted for her wedding dress while Lady Whitfield and Regina looked on.
“It’s too tight across the bust. And the lace is too pale. Start again, please,” Margaret said to the poor seamstress who’d had to start again a few times already.
“Stepmother, I think it’s lovely. You have very good taste.” Eleanor carefully twirled around in her half-sewn gown and then smoothed a hand over the satin skirt. “I can’t believe I’ll be a married woman in just a few days.”
Margaret gave Eleanor a stern look as she walked around her to point out any hidden mistakes in the gown. “I’m glad to see you have accepted your destiny, Eleanor. Now stand still! This is the event of the season, to be sure. It needs to be perfect.”
“As you wish, Lady Whitfield,” Eleanor mumbled under her breath. When she looked up at Regina, her sister seemed sad. Because of their conversation this morning, Eleanor already knew why.
Anthony had just crawled back out of Eleanor’s window when Regina had tapped on the bedroom door earlier today.
“Will you still call him Anthony now?” Regina asked while she helped Eleanor braid her hair.
“Yes, I think so. It’s his middle name, so it still belongs to him. And since nobody else calls him Anthony, it’s a special endearment between just us.”
Regina stopped braiding and sat down on the bed quilt. “Will you miss being here with me?”
“Oh, sister! Of course, I will! But I’m not going anywhere just yet, you know that. We have time to adjust.” Eleanor joined her sister on the quilt of her freshly made bed and put an arm around her shoulders. “We are sisters forever. That will never change.”
“I know. I’m very glad for that,” Regina said. “But what about Mother? Do you think she will recover from all this?”
Eleanor realized then that it wasn’t just her own well-being Regina was worried about. She still loved her mother deeply despite her faults and always would.
“We are only teaching Margaret a lesson, I promise. How well she bounces back is entirely up to her, but yes. I believe she will be just fine.”
Regina had seemed pleased enough with that answer to let it go. But here in the dressmaker’s shop, she was probably falling into melancholy again due to all the changes yet to come.
Things were nerve-wracking at present, but soon things would feel right again.
Eleanor’s wedding would launch them all into a brighter future, even if Margaret Whitfield might not see it that way for a long, long time.
…
The wedding came together so quickly that Eleanor was glad for Margaret’s insistence on making most of the decisions. Besides, it was the wedding of Lady Whitfield’s dreams, not Eleanor’s. So, it might as well be exactly what her stepmother wanted.
All Eleanor had to do was play along until the moment that it all shifted towards her freedom. As far as she was concerned, that moment couldn't come soon enough.
On the day of her nuptials to Cecil Phillips, Eleanor was on cloud nine. But not for the reasons that their guests assumed, of course.
She had to admit that Cecil looked surprisingly dashing in his black tailored coat with tails and silk white scarf around his neck. Although, his mood was foul on the day he’d been trying to con Eleanor into agreeing to for months.
When he stood by her side at the altar, he didn’t return her gaze. Maybe he was as reluctant a participant in Margeret’s scheme as she was after all.
Perhaps she and her co-conspirators were about to make his day better instead of their plans to ruin it.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. If anyone here believes they should not be united, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
The priest looked out over the congregation, but nobody said a word. Unless the white stallion that just entered the large double doors at the front of the church counted as a protest.
If it didn’t yet, it was about to!
“Excuse me! Sir! You cannot bring that animal in here!” As the priest waved towards the horse coming up the aisle, Eleanor winked at its rider and then handed Cecil her perfectly designed bouquet of pink roses.
“What’s going on?” he asked, then screamed and stepped back towards the wall. “What ishedoing here?”
“He’s saving me from you, weasel. Just let it happen, and nobody will get hurt,” Eleanor said.
