∞∞∞
“The day after tomorrow! Oh Grace, how can Father expect you to get married so quickly?”
“I thought the Duke wasdead.”
“He’s so old!”
“Is this the new Duke?”
“I didn’t know there was a new one.”
Temperance and the eldest twins, Faith and Hope, were the three sisters closest to Grace in age. They had been hurriedly dispatched to attend their sister by their father in another obvious attempt to force his eldest daughter’s hand. So far, it seemed to be working. There was no way Grace could, in good conscience, allow any of her sisters to be sacrificed in her place. Nevertheless, their horrified faces weren’t exactly helping matters.
Grace fell back on the narrow bed, her body still numb with shock. She was going to be a wife in two days.
To the Duke of Blackmore. The man she’d told not two days ago that she had no intention of ever taking a husband and would never belong to anybody.
Looking about the room, Grace briefly contemplated gathering a few things and climbing out of the window to escape the fate that her father had bestowed upon her. She could smuggle a few notes from the drawer in his study and beg a ride out of the village.
But where would she go? She had no extended family to reach out to, and everyone she knew lived in this village. And she simply couldn’t leave any of her sisters to endure the same fate.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She had no recourse but to marry the Duke.
Temperance reached out and patted her sister’s knee. “I know how you must be feeling dearest, but surely it could be worse. He could have promised you to Percy!” She frowned at a sudden horrified thought. “Surely father wouldn’t consider any of us for Percy…”
“Faith,” Grace muttered, “it’s certain poor old Percy would have an apoplexy at the thought of being saddled with any of us.” She refrained from commenting that their father was going to findit difficult to provide all eight of them with suitable matches – or any one of them for that matter, so it wasn’t entirely a bag of moonshine to imagine their father might be desperate enough to consider his curate.
The only reason the Duke of Blackmore considered her suitable was because he’d only recently returned home and didn’t know of her. Or her sisters…
“And you will move into that grand house,” Temperance continued, determinedly avoiding the thought of Percy as a possible husband, “with your own servants and beautiful gowns. Oh, and the parties. You can throw wonderful parties.”
Grace looked at her sisters. “I don’t think the Duke will be holding any parties. He doesn’t appear to be in the least frivolous or prone to enjoying himself. I will be wed to a man who has spent all his adult years up to now away at sea. I know very little about him, but if he’s willing to take a local vicar’s daughter, it’s clear he has no truck with high society.”
“Well, if he’s not in his dotage, I’m sure you will get to know a lot more about him,” Faith replied, her eyes now sparkling with mischief. “Quite quickly, in fact.”
Grace’s cheeks burned as she thought about actually sharing a bed with a man. With eight females residing in the same household, there had obviously been no lack of discussion about the opposite sex, but she would be facing her new husband without her sisters around.
She’d have to face the cold, intimidating man entirely alone.
∞∞∞
There were no last-minute reprieves, and two days hence, the morning of Grace’s wedding day dawned. Resigned now to her fate, Grace rose in the predawn light and pulledout her best day dress. It was clearly not fitting for a soon-to-be duchess, but it was the best she owned.
She carefully bathed and washed her hair before donning the gown and allowing Temperance to arrange her hair into a simple chignon. The twins tucked flowers into her curls and helped Grace gather her things before she said farewell to each of her sisters, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she did so. “Be strong Gracie,” Temperance whispered against her cheek as she embraced her sister. “Mother would be so proud of you.”
“Their care falls to you now,” Grace whispered back as she released her. “Do your best to curb their greater excesses, Tempy. If any of you are to make suitable matches, you will all need to start behaving like young ladies.” This was the first time Grace had spoken thus to her younger sister, and Temperance widened her eyes in bewilderment. “They are your responsibility now,” Grace insisted, turning away before she disgraced herself completely.
Her father and Agnes were waiting at the door, the Reverend dressed in his finest cassock with a wide smile on his face. To Grace’s surprise, Agnes grasped her hands, tears in her eyes. “Look at you, about to become the Duchess of Blackmore.”
“Come,” her father stated, motioning to the carriage the Duke had sent for them. “Blackmore awaits.”
Grace looked back, seeing her sisters crowding the doorway to wave goodbye, and blinked back the tears that continually threatened. They would do her no good now.
The drive to her future residence was short, and with every passing minute, Grace felt her anxiety rise until it threatened to swamp her. By the time the carriage halted in front of her magnificent new home, Grace felt the first onset of queasiness. She had eaten nothing since rising, and now her body was reminding her of her folly in no uncertain terms. Swallowing nervously, she accepted the hand of the footman as he reached for her, carefully stepping down out of the carriage.
There in the imposing doorway, stood the Duke, silently watching. Grace felt her queasiness increase as she met his eyes and chanced to observe the shock on his face when he finally realised who he’d signed the marriage contract for.
Taking her father’s arm, she ascended the stairs slowly, taking in shallow panting breaths in an attempt to quell the rising nausea and feeling as though she were going to the gallows rather than her marriage bed.
