There was music coming from within the church, and two men standing by the door watching them. Once they saw that Thalia was coming, they hurried inside to announce that the ceremony was set to start.
Her heart was hammering against her chest. Her entire body was shaking.Do not let them see how nervous you are. Do not give them anything…
She was determined to appear as if she wanted this. As if she wasn’t terrified of the implications, as much as she was her husband. Despite what she told her aunt just now about the duke, she admitted too that she knew almost nothing about the man. They had spoken twice, neither time filling her with much confidence, and she literally hadn’t the faintest idea what she was getting herself into.
And when she entered the church and saw her husband waiting, she felt her heart seize for a moment, then leap through her chest, then drop out from her all at once. It was hard to tell exactly what she thought… only that she was confused and excited and determined at the same time.
He stood at the end of the aisle, dressed all in black, looking as dark and intimidating as ever. He saw her as she entered, those deep green eyes watching her, no smile reaching them or his lips. Resigned, was how he appeared.
With him were three men, all dukes she was sure, each one dashing and physically superior in their own way… but they each paled in comparison to her duke. Where they shone, heglowered. Where they smiled, he scowled. And where they each seemed comfortable with the situation at hand, there was no doubt that the duke was dreading it.
“Here we go…” Isadora whispered.
The chatter in the church died down, as did the music. This left an awkward silence as Thalia started down the aisle. It was heavy and strained. Her breathing rattled, her heart thumped, and she could feel the tension as she came closer to her soon-to-be husband.
He watched her the entire time. A big man, he seemed to grow taller the closer she came, rising and spreading his influence so that it was suffocating. But Thalia, committed to this, refused to look away. She met her husband’s eyes and held them, needing him to believe that she wanted this. That she was grateful.
When she reached him, she offered a soft smile.
His brow furrowed at the gesture and then he turned to face the minister.
Thalia stepped beside the duke, careful not to get too close. He might have been her husband soon, but there was a wall that existed between them, one she doubted would break and crumble by the day’s end.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” the minister began once they were ready.
The ceremony happened as if it was a dream. To Thalia, it felt like she was watching from afar, not in control of her body, not willing to believe this was real.It is real… I need it to be real… this is what I want.
It was strange to feel both relieved and worried at the same time. The fight between what she wanted and what scared her raging within. As the ceremony stretched, Thalia found herself glancing at the duke often, trying to get a read on his emotions and how he must have been feeling.
But he was dispassionate in the way he looked ahead. Where she wanted and needed this to occur, he was simply resigned to it. She remembered what he had said to her, about this being a marriage of convenience, and Thalia could not help but wonder now what that meant.What was in store for her once she returned with the Duke of Westvale to his isolated home in the middle of nowhere? What did her future look like?
“… and in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The minster finished and it was done.
The reception from the crowd was impassive, almost awkward. A scattering of applause. A few people cheering. But they seemed to sense the mood of the moment, and when Ronan looked down at his wife but did not move to take her hand or kiss her, they seemed to understand well enough that this was not a moment to be celebrated.
This led to a tense silence. The audience watching on as they waited to see what the duke would do. Thalia’s heart continuedto race, caught between smiling and taking her husband’s hands and turning and running.
And then…
“Papa!” a shrill cry broke through the silence and the crowd turned as one to see who was the cause.
Thalia’s stomach dropped as she spun, and she very nearly cried out herself to see her daughter, Olivia, tearing free from the embrace of Sally Walters and stumbling onto the aisle and then down the altar. She was not yet four years old, had blonde curly hair, big rosy cheeks and blue eyes, and seemed to glow with pure exuberance and ecstasy that clashed horribly with the moment at hand.
“Olivia!” Thalia hurried to intercept the little girl, but she was too slow.
“Papa!” Olivia squealed as she darted between legs and threw herself at the duke. She had in one hand a cup of juice, and as her little arms wrapped his legs, it spilled down his pants and covered the floor.
Thalia stood frozen, her mouth hanging open, knowing she should snatch Olivia back but her body unwilling to move so that she might do so. Eyes wide, she looked from Olivia to the duke who was staring at the little girl with an unreadable expression.
The guests too, each one was silent, watching on in a state of what felt like fear. All except for the duke’s friends who stood by his side, each wearing a humorless smile because they alone could see the funny side.
“Are you my new papa?” Olivia asked, still clinging to the duke’s legs. “Mommy said that you were.”
The duke’s upper lip curled. “Did she now?”
“You are sobig!” Olivia cried joyously. “How are you so big?”
“Livy…” Finally coming into herself, Thalia swept down and wrapped her arms around her daughter, prying her free from the duke’s legs. “What did I say to you?”
