Genevieve couldn’t very well argue that point, but neither did it ease her conscience. The duke had acted one way, and yet, her grandmother was telling her something completely different. She sighed. She supposed she would just have to wait until the following night to comprehend everything that was expected of her.
For now, she intended to ease her nerves by sneaking into her grandfather’s study for a glass of sherry. She wasn’t accustomed to drinking spirits, but she needed something to help her sleep. It wasn’t every day that she agreed to give up her freedom to a man she was about to wed. All of her life she’d felt like the property of her father, told how to sit and how to act, and now she would be doing the same. The pressure to be the perfect duchess for Argyle was not something she was particularly looking forward to doing.
The only thing she was remotely excited about was continuing their lesson in kissing, but if that was as good as it was going to get, according to her grandmother, she wasn’t sure she was that thrilled after all.
She had just taken a fortifying sip of the sherry when a gruff voice spoke up behind her. “Whatever Eleanor said to you, I would caution you to ignore it all.”
Surprised, Genevieve inhaled at the wrong time. The drink she’d been in the process of swallowing went the wrong way, and she collapsed in a fit of coughing.
The duke walked over and hit his hand on her back, which didn’t help matters when she was trying to catch her breath again. She waved a hand and attempted to talk. It came out as a raspy, “I’ll be fine.”
“You sound like my mother-in-law. God rest her soul.” He lumbered over to the seat beside the mantel and sat down.
Once Genevieve had contained herself, she walked over and sat down across from him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Trying to make me feel better.” She reached out and took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I shall miss you after tomorrow. Nothing will be the same ever again.”
“Things are meant to change,” he noted. “Otherwise, it would be a sadly populated place.”
She sat back heavily. Her grandmother would surely find fault in the way she was slouching, but her grandfather said nothing as she processed what he’d just said. “I hadn’t given any thought to being a mother.” She put a hand to her stomach, imagining it growing larger with a babe.
“The duke will require an heir. Surely you knew this.”
“Of course, I did.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve just never imagined being a mother.”
“You will do fine,” he consoled her. “I can tell you care a lot for Argyle. Because of this, it will ease the transition. Just remember to always talk things through. Communication is key for any successful union.”
“I will remember that.” She got up and bussed a kiss on his cheek. “I should get to bed. Tomorrow is a big day.”
As she headed to her room, she clenched her fists at her sides.
She prayed it wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of her life.
Chapter 8
Cortland woke up bleary eyed and half dressed in his bed. At first, he was afraid that he’d done something entirely foolish, but then he recalled the two bottles of whisky he’d had at White’s with the earl. Although it became a bit fuzzy after that, at least he was home rather than waking up somewhere foreign, where it would be difficult to convince his bride that he hadn’t done anything untoward before their wedding ceremony this morning.
At the reminder, he jumped up and peered at the clock on the mantel. Bloody hell. He would be lucky to make it to the breakfast on time. He grumbled beneath his breath as he rang for his servant. When his valet answered his summons, he began to bellow orders to whomever might listen.
In record time, he was soaking in a bath and drinking some foul concoction that he’d gotten from the kitchens to cure the dreaded after effects of his pounding head. What had ever possessed him to drink to excess when he knew he had a very important night ahead of him? He needed his full faculties to bring Lady Genevieve to the heights of pleasure. Unfortunately, with a lack of sleep, and the way his head was pounding with all the force of a hammer to his skull, he wasn’t in much shape to do anything more than close his eyes and pray for some sort of relief.
Before he was quite ready to leave the bath, he was roused and dressed in formal black and white evening attire. His valet took care of shaving the stubble that covered his chin, and gave his hair a slight trim so that it wouldn’t brush his collar.
All the while, he was getting primed and ready to say his vows, Cortland hoped that his stomach would settle itself and he would be able to perform with charisma and aplomb without disgracing himself.
When it was time to go to the Duke of Cranbrook’s house, he wavered unsteadily on his feet for a moment, and then managed to make it down the steps of his townhouse without falling. He considered it a well-done feat on his part and decided that he would make it through this day unscathed after all.
He arrived at his destination a short time later and eagerly anticipated the moment he would see his lovely bride. He realized that he was anxious to see her, and the whisky had helped to dull his senses until they were reunited once again.
Cortland pasted a friendly smile on his face, that he hoped didn’t resemble a grimace, as he was introduced to his in-laws, the Marquess and Marchioness of Hollibrook. He also met the current Earl of Brookfield, Lady Genevieve’s brother, and her younger sister, Gabriella. They seemed like an agreeable family and vastly different from the parents he’d grown up with. Without his father or siblings, and considering he didn’t speak to his mother, his side of the parlor would be quite empty, other than a handful of close friends, mainly the Earl of Uxbridge, and Mr. Brandt Clarke and his wife, Ada, whom had just recently wed.
If he were in wont of any advice in that corner, he knew where he would surely go.
Of course, his alliance ring was secure in his waistcoat pocket. For a day he thought he would never have to actually endure, it was a source of comfort to him now.
The Duke and Duchess of Cranbrook were there, of course, speaking to the vicar, and Cortland strolled over to the latter to discuss the ceremony while he waited for his bride to appear.
