Her hands trembled in her gloves as their carriage pulled away from the house, and her mother reached out to take them.
“All will go well, dearest. I assure you.”
“You have far too much faith in me, Mama. I will likely fall on my face walking down the aisle, forget my vows, and drop my ring. If he does not run out of the chapel, it will be a miracle.”
Her mother laughed, tapping her hand gently. “You have never believed in yourself, Adelaide. I do not understand what you think is so wrong with you.”
“Nobody else seems to have such a difficulty.”
Her mother’s expression shifted. It was not quite a stern look, but it was firmer than she was used to.
“Now, you listen to me,” her mother said in a measured tone. “Starting today, you are a duchess. You shall be the wife of the fearsome Duke of Ashford, and that means people will have no choice but to admire and respect you.”
“Mama, that is not?—”
“And consider this. Today, you have the opportunity to become someone else entirely. In the last year, I felt as though I lost my daughter as well as my husband, and I cannot allow that to continue. If you no longer want to be the volatile Lady Adelaide Wynn, then there is no better day to change that than today. When you walk out of the chapel, show the ton who you truly are. You only have one chance.”
Adelaide did not know what to say. She knew that she had changed for the worse, and that her mother wanted her to be her younger self again, but that girl was long gone.
Perhaps that was for the better.
With a nod of agreement, she straightened up and squared her shoulders as if in preparation for battle.
It would be a long and difficult day, but it would come to an end, and then she would take every day as it came. Whether she liked it or not, she was marrying into a family that nobody could question, and that gave her hope. Everything would change, even if she was just as alone as she had been before.
She stepped into the chapel and found the Duke waiting for her. He was far more put together than he had been the night before, when he had tumbled into her garden and fallen beside her. She had been taking the air when he appeared, and with his condition, she found it easier to speak her mind.
She wondered if he remembered their conversation, and if he would hold it against her if he did.
When she reached him, he offered her his arm in a way that could only be considered formal. The first touch sent shivers through her. She tensed, and she wondered if he had felt the connection too. But only for a moment, for she knew the truth.
He spoke his vows first, never once taking his eyes off her. There was no gentleness, but there was an intensity. A fierce, quiet claim that she could not understand. Considering their small audience, there was no need for the act.
When it came time to exchange rings, his fingers brushed hers, deliberate and firm.
“Oh!” she gasped.
“Do you like it?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
His touch lingered long enough for her pulse to quicken. The cold of the metal sent a rush through her, and she hoped more than anything that she was not blushing too fiercely.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the vicar declared, and then it was done.
Cassian did not kiss her, which she had expected. Instead, he leaned close, his lips almost brushing her cheek in a way that felt intimate.
“I will not feign affection for the sake of witnesses,” he murmured. “I hope you understand that.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“Cassian,” he corrected. “We might as well drop the formalities.”
It was the sensible thing to do, but Adelaide did not know how much of a difference it would make. After all, he had made it clear that he had no intention of spending time with her and that he wanted them to live separate lives, regardless of how she felt about it.
She wondered if his using her given name was a mere attempt at offering her some form of intimacy, but she knew the truth. It was the more convenient way to be, and that was all he cared about when it came to their marriage.
And yet, as they turned to leave, Cassian placed his hand on the small of her back.
