My genteel composure seems to unsettle her even further, and she narrows her eyes. “You know very well. You have… havetrickedmy father in forcing me to marry you! You are deceititself,Your Grace, and I will never be pleased to be wed to such a man.”
“Ah.” I incline my head for a moment to hide my smile. When I have gathered myself, I allow myself to meet her eyes once more. “You mean in the same way you intended to deceive Lord Pembroke. Then we agree: we are well matched, my lady.”
She gasps and her narrowed eyes flare in shock at my daring. I shock her further by taking her by the arm. It is against the observances of good breeding, and people might stare. Tongues might wag.
Yet, the instant my fingers seize her arm, her consternation disappears, replaced by something else. And when she softens into my touch, when I begin to walk and she falls into step beside me, submitting to my guidance whether she realizes it or not, I care about nothing else.
Lady Freya
“Darling, you must hold your breath if I am to get the stays to sit properly.”
I scowl at the wall, but only because Mother cannot see it. “I shall try.” I suck in my breath sharply and do my best to hold it, but it is not easy. A month has passed since our engagement, and the time has flown by far faster than I ever would have thought possible.
I cannot hold my breath, because my heart is pounding with such haste it might injure my breast. I did not manage a single moment of sleep, knowing that today I will be wed and forever united to the duke in a most disagreeable duty. I was already awake when my mother burst into my bed chamber as the gray light before the dawn streamed through my windowpane.
“You must try harder, dearest. Believe me, you shall thank me when the duke remarks upon your lovely figure.”
I doubt I shall care much what the duke thinks.I manage to cover my snort with a dainty cough, but not without my lady’s maid, Kate, hearing.
The chestnut-haired beauty catches my eye, and I must look away before I laugh. My mother’s patience is already taxed trying to get me into my corset.
“The modiste must have taken your measurements down wrong.” My mother huffs as she continues to yank until breath is but a memory.
“Kate, I require your assistance.”
My maid gives me a look of regret and then moves around to where Mother is. I feel the shift behind me as she surrenders the laces to Kate.
“My lady, breathe out once more, if you please,” Kate urges.
“I have,” I gasp as she tightens them mercilessly, the whalebone pressing into my ribs as if to permanently rob me of breath.
“Again, dearest.” My mother’s genteel tone grows sharp under the strain. “Anddoremember your posture.”
I force myself to stand straighter still, though I protest, “I do not think I can manage it. Perhaps there is another corset?—”
“Nonsense!” Mother snaps, the laces pulling tighter still. “You can bear it. Consider it your first duty as a duchess. Duty is not always pleasant, dearest, but it must be done. Now,be still.”
My mother, having never spoken to me in such a tone, commands my silence. With groaning, grunts, and gasps for precious air, at last she is satisfied, though I hardly can say the same.
“You are a vision, dearest.”
“I did not need a new gown,” I snipe at her, sulky both with nerves and the inability to breathe properly.
“It is your wedding day. Of course you must look your best.”
“The duke has not even seen most of my gowns,” I return, determined to be petulant.
“He shall see them soon enough. Now, Kate, see if you cannot manage to get some color into her complexion, hmm?”
“Of course, my lady,” she answers dutifully.
“And Freya…” My mother waits until she has my eye, then regards me with a look that offers equal measures of tender affection and stern warning. “I am not certain why you are intent on making yourself so disagreeable on this most auspicious occasion. I am certain it is just nerves, darling, and undue concern. The duke will be a good husband to you, for you will content yourself with being a good wife to him.”
“Yes, Mama,” I murmur, and am immediately rewarded with one of her warm, beaming smiles.
“There, now, you see? You can be most pleasant when you wish to be. Do be sure and recall that with your husband.”
Having imparted her maternal wisdom, my mother—a vision herself in a gown that shimmers as though it holds jewels in the fabric—sweeps from the room in a flurry of petticoats, most certainly intent on the next item that awaits her expert attention.
