Juliet wanted his kisses. She craved his touch and wanted to touch him, too. And soon she could do that very thing. So long as he welcomed her touch. What if he did not? Could an inexperienced wallflower measure up to skilled paramours? Or would he find her lacking?
Father delivered Juliet to Giles, then kissed her cheek before he stepped back. Her pulse ticked up as she stared into Giles’s blue-green gaze. She beheld playfulness in their depths, but also something else—warmth and tenderness, perhaps.
The parson glanced at the leather-bound copy of the Book of Common Prayer in his hand and cleared his throat.
Juliet worried her bottom lip as the minister began reading. So many what-ifs and questions swirled through her mind that she barely heard the clergyman’s words.
“Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God…”
Paying little mind to the words spoken, Juliet’s attention roamed elsewhere—to her soon to be husband. Giles must be the most handsome man in London, dressed in his crisp white shirt and cravat, topped with a sapphire waistcoat and black cutaway tailcoat. His eyes sparkled, and a small smile played at his lips.
She almost allowed herself to believe that he was happy. But how could he be? He’d been forced to marry her. Juliet would not let herself be foolish enough to believe that he would have chosen her.
Still, she found some measure of happiness despite the circumstances that led them here. Perhaps Giles did too.
“Into this holy union His Grace, the fifth Duke of Cleburne Giles Fortescue and Lady Juliet Gale now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now, or else forever hold your peace.”
Juliet could scarcely help from holding her breath as she half hoped someone would object, and prayed no one would. She exhaled on a swallow when the parson started speaking once more.
Her pulse sped when he turned his attention to her and said, “Lady Juliet Gale, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”
She stared into Giles’s eyes as she considered the weight of the oath she was being asked to take. One word stood out apart from the rest—love. Could she stand before God, family, and friends and swear to love Giles for the rest of her days when she feared trusting him with her heart?
Giles swallowed hard as he stared back at her, his gaze imploring and warm. Perhaps she could love him. Maybe he would treat her heart with kindness. Did it even signify at this point? She had to marry him, he’d ruined her.
Finding her voice, she said, “I will.”
Her nerves dissipated when Giles favored her with a joyous smile. Maybe, just maybe, everything would work out. At the least, he did not blame her for trapping him. And rightly so, considering it was he who did the trapping.
She really had to let all of that go if she wished to forge a promising future with him. Blaming him would only lead to negative things—anger and resentment—and she did not want to have such feelings in the middle of her marriage, mucking everything up. Besides, she carried some of the blame. She had kissed him back, had stayed when she knew she ought to have fled.
The clergyman turned his attention to Giles and asked him to answer the same question. Giles’s gaze never left Juliet’s, and he replied, “I will,” without hesitation.
She thought it odd that he did not seem to share her reservations, but somehow, she was glad for his show of confidence. He’d vowed before God, their family, and friends to keep and care for her, and she believed he would honor his vow.
Perchance love would follow.
Giles took Juliet’s hand in his, and her traitorous heart soared as he said his vows. “In the Name of God, I, Giles Fortescue, seventh Duke of Cleburne, take you, Juliet Gale, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.”
Giles released her hand, his fingers trailing across her glove covered palm as he did. Sparks of desire shot through her, and she swallowed hard. Now was not the time.
Lord, but he had a powerful effect on her sensibilities. And was it her imagination, or had he emphasized the word love? And why the devil did her heart make a gleeful jump as he’d spoke?
She had no time to ponder it, for the time to recite her own vows was upon her. As was expected, she took Giles’s right hand in hers and braced for the feelings she knew would come with touching him. Juliet repeated the vow to him. To her surprise, the words came easier this time.
The rings were blessed and exchanged two simple gold bands. The one Giles slipped onto her finger rested against the stunning sapphire he had placed there a sennight earlier. Then the vicar said, “Now that His Grace and Lady Juliet have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” He closed the prayer book and looked out at the crowded pews.
“Those whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder.” His last words rang through St. George’s.
Juliet did not know whether she wanted to smile with joy or cry for all her lost dreams. What did it matter anyhow? It was done. They were married, and she would forevermore be his wife. Now she had to make the best of the hand fate had dealt to her.
Giles faced the congregation, then proffered his arm. Juliet curled her hand around his elbow and pasted a smile on her face. All she could do now was make the best of her marriage—her future at his side.
And at that moment, she determined to do all she could to make their union a happy one. Regardless of how he behaved, she would stand at his side and do her utmost to be a good wife.
“It is my great honor to introduce to you His and Her Grace’s, the Duke and Duchess of Cleburne,” the parson announced.
The words wrapped around her, warming her like a favored blanket as Giles led her back down the aisle. She was now his wife. His duchess, and she would someday be the mother of his children.
