His deep voice sent a shiver through her, despite her unease about his disinclination to talk, and she caught her lip between her teeth. As the vicar recited a sermon, Bridget found her eyes stealing glances at her groom, wondering why people thought him a deformed beast? Surely, he bore a great scar from his wound and only used one of his eyes, but he was…handsome.
“Bridget Annabelle Turner, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband…” the vicar interrupted her thoughts, and she raised her eyes to the duke’s, once more losing herself until she heard, “so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” she responded.
The ceremony continued with her attention completely taken by the duke, and when he took her hand to place a ring upon it, she swallowed.
“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.