“Give him a chance,” her mother said with genuine hope. “You might be happier for it.”
“When we were going to the ball, you warned all of us to stay away from the known rakes, yet you led me into the bed of the greatest one of them all,” Ariadne said flatly.
“Ariadne—”
“I understand your reasoning, Mother,” she said calmly. “I just think there could be a better way of getting to it.”
There was no sense delaying the inevitable any longer or standing here and letting herself fall to pieces. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.Do not be a ninny.
“I think I’m ready,” she said.
“Your sisters are right,” her mother said, “You do look beautiful. She grasped her bouquet of lilies and roses and headed out from the vestibule to the sanctuary. She heard the soft melodies filtering from inside the church, her mind drifted, and she imagined how she might have felt if the circumstances were different.
How would she feel marrying the love of her life?
The cathedral was decorated with candles lit all around, little bouquets of lilies and roses, the intricately carved columns, the pews, and thealtar behind the dean, which was covered with a fine white linen cloth. For such a hasty wedding, the duke’s servants had transformed a humble village church into a very elegant space.
There were eight people in the church: her sisters and her uncle, Thaddeus. As a proud Pink of Fashion, his jacket and waistcoat were of embroidered velvet, matching his immaculately wheat colored hair. His Grace stood there, his tall, broad body dwarfing the small priest, his dark hair falling in a devilish way over his face, but for the other man, a handsome blonde, she had no idea who he was.
The priest was there—but not her future husband.
Her mother left her with the priest after squeezing her hands before going to sit by her brother-in-law. A door to the left opened, and she expected to see her new husband emerging—but it was the duke instead.
His frame was tall, broad on the shoulders, and his clothes were his black linen shirt that was freshly pressed, with a matching silk cravat. He had a dark tailored jacket with the buttons open to show off a blood red waistcoat.
His dark hair, worn longer than what was fashionable, was tousled but did not fall in a way to hide the scar on his face. With the way the light fell on his face, she saw a silvery scar thatslanted through his left eye, giving him that much of a devilish glint.
“My brother is in the vestibule,” he said while taking his spot where the groom’s best man would stand, and when his eyes landed on her, her breath caught in her throat. “He will be out momentarily.”
She tried to watch the duke covertly under the veil, but every time her eyes landed on him, and his eyes landed on hers, her heart flew to her throat while she remembered the heat of his mouth on her ear.
As the moments ticked away and the silence began to scrape at her skin, she could not help but feel dread. Was Leander inside getting drunk? Was that the only way he could marry her? Her eyes shot to the door every minute, and with it not opening, she began to worry.
“Do not worry, my lady,” the vicar murmured without looking up. “Some grooms take a moment.”
Soon whispers filled the air, and her knees began to get weak with mortification.
Lord, could this please be over?
Cedric had never imagined that he would be standing in a marriage ceremony ever again. The only positive thing about this was that he was not the groom. However, the lateness of said groom perturbed him.
His eyes landed on Lady Ariadne, and he felt his chest tighten with every inch she sank into herself. She was utterly beautiful in her dress, and, with thesunlight that fell through the lone stained-glass window above the pulpit, seemed to have a halo around her head.
Under that hand-spun silk, her lashes swept over her high cheekbones in a soft, full face. Her plush cupid-bow lips looked bitten, maybe by design, but he wagered it was the stress of the day.
Her gown fit her body perfectly, highlighting her generous breasts, soft, rounded shoulders, and was all curves and softness—a young woman full of life.
Cedric had seen much beauty in his life, danced with many a Diamonds-of-the-first-water, broke bread with devastating widows, and even flirted with uncommonly beautiful debutants; Helena had been such a one. Only after their marriage had he found out the true woman behind the rouged lips.
Ariadne did not seem to be one of those women who wore masks to hide their personality. With her guileless smile, he felt she held true, genuine kindness; she held a kind of inner light—one that couldn’t have been any more different from the darkness that he carried within him.
She kept shooting apprehensive looks to the door behind him, and with the time ticking away—at least fifteen minutes by his estimate—he decided to do something about it.
“One moment,” he dipped his head in a short bow then spun on his heel and strode to the vestibule. “Leander, what the devil is taking you so?—”
He pushed the door in…and found windowpanes flapping with the wind and the room empty.
A curse left his mouth as he spun on his heel and ran out of the church to spin around to where the vestibule Leander had been waiting in. He found the carriage wheel tracks impressed into the mud that led off to the road behind the church.
