The ceremony passed in a blur, and Isadora barely registered the words of the officiant, barely felt the cool band of gold sliding onto her finger. It was as though she was watching someone else’s wedding unfold rather than her own.
But no matter how distant she felt from it all, it was done. She was Isadora Marwood now.
The bells had barely stopped ringing when Evan Marwood’s hand found her waist. They were walking to their carriage.
It sent a strange shiver down her spine, only to be replaced with irritation. She did not look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes forward, face carefully composed.
“Let go of me,” she murmured under her breath.
She did not cause a scene—not now when people were watching. But the steel in her voice was unmistakable.
Evan, of course, did not immediately comply. If anything, she felt the faintest shift of amusement in his posture, his fingers pressing just a fraction tighter against the fabric of her gown.
“My dear wife,” he mused so quietly that only she could hear, “is this how our marriage is to begin? With you already issuing commands?”
Her lips thinned. “I would hardly call asking you to remove your hand a command, Your Grace.”
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, but finally, he released her.
She stepped away from him the instant she could, putting space between them though the damage had been done.
The ton would talk. The Duke of Giltburg was openly possessive of his bride.
The very thought sent a wave of frustration through her. She did not wait for him and climbed into the carriage. He followed her, and they were on their way.
For several moments, neither spoke.
“You are going to be impossible, aren’t you?” Evan finally broke the silence.
She turned her head, glaring at him outright.
“If you are already weary of me, Your Grace, perhaps you should have considered this marriage with greater thought,” she quipped back. “But it is not too late to reverse the decision if you wish.”
He let out a low chuckle, amused.
“That eager to be rid of me already?”
“I do not see the point in pretending.”
“Neither do I,” he agreed, still smiling.
“Then perhaps we are in agreement about something,” she narrowed her eyes and then added under her breath, “What a surprise.”
“It would appear so,” Evan agreed. “Though it is in your benefit if you are to agree with me about most things.”
“I am not sure if that is possible,” Isadora argued. “I have been known to have my opinions.”
“That much I can tell already,” Evan smirked.
“Then you are more perceptive than I gave you credit for,” she noted.
“And you are stubborn,” Evan replied. “They say that about me as well.”
“Oh?” Isadora probed. “Well, I suppose it is better than being known as ruthless which is also another thing you are famous for.”
“I thought it was my ruthlessness that drew you to me.” Evan continued to smirk. She realized that it flustered her and annoyed her both at the same time. “You cannot wish it away now, only because we are married.”
“Oh, I would not dare,” she shot back.
