Page 59 of The Duke of Ruin
As she shrugged out of her dressing gown and climbed into bed, a voice in the back of her head reminded her she still had to face her father at some point and that he would still be furious she’d run off and married the Duke of Ruin. The worst of it was that her father would only be angry because Simon was a pariah. The reason behind his reputation mattered not. Father would have no quarrel with Diana marrying a murderer,ifthat murderer was popular and admired and would advance their family’s position.
However, shewasn’tmarrying a murderer.
Chapter 12
It had beena grueling three days that saw them to Gretna with cold temperatures and a persistent drizzle on the middle day. Even if Verity hadn’t been traveling with them, Simon doubted he and Diana would’ve had the energy to continue what they’d started the night before they’d left.
And if he believed that, he’d clearly forgotten what it was like to be hopelessly attracted to someone.
In fact, he had. He’d spent the last two years in deep mourning, not just disallowing himself to want another woman, but not even finding the urge to do so. The kiss he’d given Diana at the house party had reawakened his body. The kiss at Brereton had reawakened his mind. The events at Beaumont Tower had sent him into a haze of desire so strong that barely an hour went by that he didn’t think of her and all the things he wanted to do to her once they were wed.
It would likely have been even more often than that, but he was also busy loathing himself for feeling this way. He didn’t deserve to find such bliss, not when Miriam was cold and dead in a grave.
Christ, he was a maudlin prick.
He wiped a hand over his face as they rode into the yard at the blacksmith shop. He looked over at Diana, and Verity rode up beside her. The groom lingered behind them on his horse.
They’d discussed their plan last night at dinner. They would ride directly to the blacksmith shop and be married. Then they’d find an inn. Their coaches—Simon’s and Verity’s—would hopefully arrive late tomorrow. Then Simon and Diana would travel south to Lyndhurst while Verity would return home. Though he’d only spent a few days with her, Simon was already quite fond of his soon-to-be-wife’s cousin.
Soon-to-be-wife.
His heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped for the thousandth time that he was doing the right thing. Not that he would change his mind. He was quite past the point of no return.
Their groom, Paddon, helped Verity dismount, while Simon moved to help Diana. From the moment he clasped her waist, awareness tripped along his flesh and up his spine. Their eyes met, and he saw desire reflected in the blue depths.
Reluctantly, he let go of her but offered his arm, which she took as they made their way to Verity. She took Simon’s other arm, and he guided them into the blacksmith shop. Paddon remained in the yard to look after the horses.
Inside, a young man rushed to meet them. “Good afternoon, are ye here to wed?”
“Indeed we are. I am the Duke of Romsey.” There was no need for aliases any longer. Indeed, hehadto be the duke now. “We have a witness with us, the Duchess of Blackburn, cousin to the bride. Will you be able to provide another, or should we fetch our groom from the yard?”
The lad bowed a bit awkwardly to the duchess and then to Diana. “Mrs. Elliott can serve as your other witness. Ye just need to pay the fee.” His brogue was thick but understandable. “Mr. Elliot is finishing up with another wedding. May I take your hats, gloves, and cloaks?”
“Thank you,” Verity said, withdrawing her hand from Simon’s arm and removing her gloves.
Diana followed her actions, and Simon resisted the urge to take her hand, to keep her close. In a very short time, she’d be bound to him forever. Cold sweat broke out along his neck. Miriam was supposed to have been forever. He didn’t see how he could love two wives. And he would always love Miriam.
The sound of a hammer hitting the anvil came from the room next door.
Verity smiled. “Someone is newly married.”
Simon handed his items to the boy, and Diana and Verity did the same. Arms laden, the lad opened a door into an adjoining room, where the sound of the hammer had originated.
Verity turned to Diana. “I’m sorry you aren’t getting married in a splendid gown in front of an audience.”
“I couldn’t give a fig about an audience. Everyone I care about is right here.” She smiled at Verity, and Simon knew she was speaking of her cousin and only her cousin. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him—he assumed she did, at least somewhat. But it wasn’t the same, and he didn’t expect it to be.
Diana looked down at one of the only two gowns she’d brought with her. This one had a bit of decoration along the neck. “A new gown might be nice—or perhaps just one I haven’t worn to death and never wish to see again.”
Verity gave her a sympathetic nod. “Tomorrow, my maid will arrive with the gowns that she’s altered to fit you for the journey to Lyndhurst. You’ll feel better then.”
A young, very pretty woman came from the room next door. “We’re ready for you,” she said, nodding toward the room. “Go on in.”
“So quickly?” Diana asked, looking mildly surprised.
Was she nervous too?
He stepped toward her. “We can take a few minutes, if you like.”
