Page 68 of The Devil's Deceit
As Charles walks alongside me down the sweeping staircase of Oakleigh Hall, I know, with one hundred percent certainty, that I’m destined to pay a terrible price in my search for the truth.
I only hope it’s worth it.
Idling outside Oakleigh is a beautiful Rolls Royce, its black paintwork so highly polished I’ll surely be able to see my face in it. The three of us climb inside. As the door closes, my heart rate sky rockets.
This is it.
I’m actually getting married to the man I hold responsible for losing my parents in horrific circumstances. I keep telling myself that any price is worth paying for the truth, but as I slide my gaze to Charles and his warm smile and fatherly kindness, I’m not sure anymore.
My doubts grow as the wedding march strikes up and Charles escorts me to the front of the chapel on Oakleigh’s grounds. Hundreds of blurred faces watch me as I pass by them, all strangers, all De Vil friends and acquaintances. I feelJuliet’s solid presence walking behind me, and I have to suppress an urge to reach back and take her hand.
Christian twists his body my way as I approach, and he breaks out one of his special smiles that make my insides turn to mush.
I slide my arm from the crook of Charles’s elbow and stand beside Christian.
“Stunning,” he murmurs. “You’re stunning, Grace.”
Despite the fakeness of this union, and Christian’s self-confessed intrinsic belief his attraction to me isn’t destined to last, his compliment lights me up inside.
I nudge him playfully with my elbow. “You’re not looking so bad yourself.”
The minister begins the service, his voice chipper and smile genuine. The gravity of lying in a house of worship hits me, and I stumble through my vows, but somehow make it to the end.
Fifteen minutes later, Christian knits our fingers together and leads me out into the weak autumn sunshine. The photographer snaps a few pictures of us with the chapel in the background, and then we’re in the car and on our way back to Oakleigh.
I twist my wedding and engagement rings around my finger, still processing what just happened.
“Regrets?” Christian asks me.
I stop fidgeting and smile. “No. You?”
“Not a single one. If I had to marry anyone, I’m glad I chose you.”
“Only because you’ll get to continue living your bachelor lifestyle.” I break into a grin, but it falls when Christian’s eyes narrow. “What? It’s true.”
A faint tinge of pink blooms across his cheekbones, and amuscle quivers in his jaw. “No one can predict the future; not even me. The truth is that, right now, I want you and only you.”
“Yes, but you said yourself, whatever this is between us will fade eventually.”
He jerks down the cuff on his shirt, his expression pinched. “Can we not speak about this on our wedding day?”
Frowning, I shake my head. “You’re confusing me now. All I was doing was reiterating our agreement and the understanding we came to.”
“And why is that? Have you tired of me already, before the ink is dry on the marriage certificate? Have you picked out your next conquest? Is he a guest at our wedding?”
I run my teeth over my bottom lip while I order my thoughts.Think before you speakwas a mantra of my father’s.
“First of all, I don’t have conquests. Second of all, no, I haven’t tired of you, but if you don’t cut the attitude, you’ll find yourself standing alone at your own wedding reception, explaining to the guests that you don’t know where your new bride is. What is wrong with you?”
He scrubs a hand over his face and lets out a heavy sigh. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Duchess. I don’t know why I snapped.”
Eager to inject some humor into a situation that’s evolved into something far too serious, I reach for his hand and squeeze. “Wedding night nerves? Afraid you’ll flop?”
There’s a second where he pauses, then he bursts out laughing. “You have no idea how good you are for me.”
Before I can answer, the rear door opens. I hadn’t even realized the car had stopped. Staff are lined up as we exit, and mass applause breaks out. Unused to this amount of attention,I blush and duck my head, walking as fast as I can past the beaming smiles and calls of congratulations.
Apparently, it’s expected that we will personally greet every single guest, and after shaking more than five hundred hands and thanking people for their congratulations, my throat is raw, my palm tender and red. It’s lovely to see Destiny and Loris again, though, and she reiterated her invitation to Montford Hall.
