Page 7 of A Virgin for the Beastly Duke

“With this ring, I thee wed,” he said, “with my body I thee worship,” she blushed, “and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” He slid the ring onto her finger slowly.

They knelt, and the rest of the ceremony passed in a blur as she imagined what her new life would be. When Bridget scrawled her signature on the register, she released a breath that she had been holding. She was his before God and country. She had once dreamed of possessing the heart of the man she married, but such a dream was far beyond her reach now.

Their family gathered around to congratulate them, and Belinda had tears in her eyes. “I have not been this happy in a very long time,” she said, squeezing Bridget’s hand.

A young man came forward and bowed. The duke introduced him, “Mr. Gerard Belmont, a good friend of the family.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace, and my felicitations.”

“Thank you, Mr. Belmont,” Bridget replied before looking up at her husband. His expression was inscrutable.

His eye met hers for a moment but quickly turned away, and he said, “My aunt will show you to the dining room for the wedding breakfast. I will not be joining you. Please excuse me.” Without explaining his reason for leaving, he turned on his heel and walked out of the drawing room.

Chapter 4

“This is unacceptable!” Andrew said after the duke had abandoned her.

“Did I offend him?” Bridget asked Belinda.

“Oh, no, my dear!” She looped her arm through Bridget’s. “He is a rather changeful man.” To her brother and father, she said, “I assure you, he is not always like this.”

She was already married to him, and it could not be undone—at least, not without involving the law—but Bridget was greatly displeased by his behavior.

The head of the table, where the duke was supposed to be, was empty, and she decided that she was not going to allow him to disrespect her in this marriage. She would demand to know why he behaved thusly when she saw him next.

Even though Belinda did all she could to excuse her nephew’s behavior, Bridget and her family were not convinced, and she felt dreadful throughout the wedding breakfast with the drawn curtains in the dining room making everything worse.

“I told you, Father, that we would be making a mistake,” Andrew said, pacing the drawing room floor when the breakfast was over and Belinda had excused herself to search for the duke.

“We did not make a mistake,” Mortimer insisted.

“Please be seated, Andrew. Your pacing is not helping me,” she said, her shoulders rigid. The set of her shoulders was the only outward expression of her emotions that she could allow. “There must be a reason why he left the way he did,” she added, not believing her words.

Bridget wanted to beg her father and brother to take her away from here, but she was already married, and she had done it for them. As she sat, she inwardly trembled with fear, anger, and quite a lot of confusion.

Her brother stopped to stare at her with disbelief. “Have you seen the rooms in this castle? The walls and floors are rancid and every curtain is shut! I cannot trust this man to care for you and protect you when he cannot do as much with his own home.”

“That is your opinion, and I wish for you to allow me to keep mine. He is my husband now.” She held Andrew’s gaze determinedly, hoping he would not see the fear in her eyes.

Andrew threw his hands up in the air. “This is unbelievable.” Then stalked out.

“My dear Bridget.” Her father moved beside her and took her hand. “I do not want to regret asking him to marry you, but your brother is right, and I am starting—“

“Please do not regret it, Papa,” she interrupted him. “I will find happiness here. I promise.” She was uncertain of her words, but she did not want her father to blame himself.

“And what if he is unkind to you?” he spoke solemnly.

“I do not believe he will be,” she reassured him. “I will admit that I stared intently at him. Perhaps that is what caused his displeasure.”

“No matter how displeased he is, he owes you enough respect to stay by your side. I should speak to him.”

Bridget did not dissent, for she had the intention to speak with him, as well.

Harry knew someone would find him in his study, and when a knock sounded at the door, he set his gin tumbler down and called, “You may enter.”

The door opened and Lord Mortimer walked in, his shoulders straight, and his disposition unfavorable. Harry knew the consequences of his actions would meet him, but he had been unable to bring himself to remain in her presence for a moment longer.

She had been so beautiful, so graceful, and she had gaped at his gruesome features, likely wishing she had never set eyes upon him. Throughout the ceremony, he had been filled with embarrassment, and her scrutiny had driven him to the point where he had disregarded propriety altogether.

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