“I would like to invite you to wish my brother and his lovely fiancée, Lady Ariadne, all the best and a very long and fortuitous marriage,” Cedric lifted his glass. “Let's all toast to them.”
It was painful to watch Ariadne force a smile on her face while Leander dropped a kiss on her gloved hand. Maybe this was not the best decision, but he would not—could not— risk making the girl an unmarriageable pariah if Leander did get foxed and run his mouth.
His eyes landed on the mother, and she did not look as happy as she looked relieved.
“Leander—” Silas echoed. “—is marrying?”
“Yes,” Cedric replied.
Shaking his head as if to dispel a drug-induced illusion, Silas asked, “Pardon me for being brash—” he dropped his voice tosotto. “—but is she expanding?”
“No,” Cedric pulled him away from anyone who might overhear them. “I’ll tell you what happened when we are in private.”
Silas snorted, “If you say it that way, I already feel like I know what happened.”
The guests took their places at the table, and reluctantly, Cedric took his place at the head of the table, directing Silas to sit to his right. By practice, Cedric avoided the inquisitive looks piercing into his skin. It was expected when one was not only a recluse, but a disfigured recluse at that.
His eyes watched keenly as Leander and Lady Ariadne exchanged a few tense words before going back to their meals. Reaching for his coffee, he frowned when Leander’s head turned, and his eyes landed on someone across the room.
As he followed his brother’s gaze, his eyes landed on—god damn it— a sober Lady Porter, dressed down in placid green, and had her hair down.
Cedric’s hands clenched around the cup. For the first time, he feared Lady Ariadne would be right. Leander would have a horse of mistresses in his marriage bed.
Silas seemed to have followed his gaze and sighed, “Do you think that is a good idea?”
He clenched his jaw so tightly, another headache began to bloom at his temples. Now, his gaze flew to Ariadne. She, too, had picked on her future husband’s attention as well, and that was above all, the one thing that convinced him of the marriage's inevitable demise before it could even truly begin.
Damn it, Leander. Can you do one thing right for once in your life?
Chapter Six
“Lud,” Celestine clapped happily. “That gown is divine on you, Ariadne.”
As upset as Ariadne was at the situation, the gown that her mother had procured aftertwodays from the engagement announcement— proof that she had planned this sham marriage months in advance— was indeed lovely.
It was ivory in color and had a lot of handmade lace sewn into the square neckline of the dress. Gathered under her bosom, the skirts frothed to the floor in waves of underskirts. While pulling on her long white gloves, Ariadne replied, “It really is.”
In the past two days, while journeying back to her home parish where the wedding was to be held, she had worried for almost a full day that her expectation of Leander was going to be right.
I am sure I will be the third wheel in my marriage. I will be the lady in name, but his mistress will be the true lady.
“Are you all right, Ariadne?” Marigold asked, her brows furrowed. She fixed her spectacles and added, “You look worried.”
It scared her that she had been tricked into marrying a man she did not know at all. By the time her wedding day arrived, she was a mess. It was all she could do to keep a smile on her face and not let anyone around her know what her thoughts were.
“It's…” Ariadne considered telling her sisters about her mother’s machinations, but decided against it. “…wedding jitters.”
“Completely understandable, given the circumstances.” Celestine nodded. “I have heard of a friend of a friend being ill days leading up to her wedding and fainted on her wedding day, moments after her vows.”
I’ll probably be ill too.
While fixing her gloves, she thought about the beastly duke and how his body had wrapped around her in that tiny broom closet. She shivered…then flushed hotly at the memory of the heat under her skin and the gooseflesh popping up on the back of her neck pressed against him.
The door to the vestibule opened, and Ophelia stood there, “Girls, please take your seats. The ceremony is about to start.”
A chorus of “Yes, Mother” followed before all three of them took a turn to hug Ariadne before filing out of the room.
Reaching for her veil, she pinned the flowing lace atop her head and fluffed the material around her face. Ophelia came closer.
