“I do…”
“Do you take Lady Gardenia Hathaway as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?”
“I do,” the Duke of Dewberry responded to the bishop through painted lips and then squeezed Nia's hands. His were cold and bony, and the squeeze, unnecessarily tight.
The hard glint in his eyes reminded Nia of her father, and a hopelessness as gray as the rain outside sent a chill ghosting down her spine. Those eyes lacked affection and held only satisfaction. And something else—something more insidious than arrogance.
Power. Domination.
Ownership.
Standing at the altar with hundreds of pairs of eyes watching her, Nia barely suppressed a shudder while staring across at her groom—the Duke of Dewberry.
But Nia did not look away. This was the man she’d been told to marry, and marry him she would. Because she was the Duke of Crossings’ eldest daughter.
This was the man to whom she’d pledge herself until death. This is my duty.
His cheeks and forehead had been generously caked with thick white powder, but the scabs beneath it were still visible.
Ubiquitous scabs that hadn’t healed in the two months since she’d first been introduced to him.
Although she’d been unofficially labeled the Diamond of the Season last year, the choice of whom she would marry was for her parents to make. When her mother told her to be nice to the Duke of Dewberry, she’d been all politeness, demure, delicate.
Obedient.
This was who she was, and who she had been for as long as she could remember.
Her parents chose her dance master, her pianoforte teacher, and each of her many other tutors. They knew better. Even at the advanced age of twenty, none of her gowns or accessories were purchased unless approved by her mother.
Nia had never complained.
Nia had tried to be the perfect duke’s daughter. Now she would be the perfect duke’s wife.
The thought reminded her of the chat her mother had had with her the night before.
“The first few nights of your marriage will likely be… uncomfortable.” Her mother had avoided Nia’s gaze as she spoke. “But rest assured, he’ll tire of you quickly and return to one of his mistresses. I don’t want you to be overly… shocked, however, by the acts he will wish to perform on you. Remember, as his wife, your body becomes his property. And while he does… what he does… know that it won’t last long. It won’t go on forever. And you will be a duchess!”
“For how many nights will it be… uncomfortable?” she had asked.
“I cannot say for certain, sometimes just a few days, possibly weeks. To be certain, it will end once you conceive. And if the child is a male, you’ll never have to endure it again.”
But then she’d added, “Although I suppose he’ll want a spare.”
Her mother’s speech had kept Nia awake most of the night.
Nia knew about kissing and had reconciled herself to the practice... But the acts her mother had described sounded disgusting and embarrassing—especially if they were to be performed by the man before her!
Nia’s stomach, which was already unsettled by her groom’s cologne, lurched.
He was her future. “As his wife, your body becomes his property.” Her mother’s words shook her entire being, and it took all her resilience to remain standing.
It wasn’t right that one person owned another! Having her parents dictate her life had been one thing, but to hand herself over to this man… a man she didn’t even care for, a man who revolted her…
Seemed not only foolhardy, but…dangerous!
She felt herself floating up—watching herself dutifully give herself away.
The man standing across from her, at least thirty years her senior, would put his body inside of hers. He would touch her most intimate places.
