“I’m going to get married today. I haven’t changed my mind.”
“That young lady isn’t ready to represent our family. ”
“Neither am I.” He covered the scars. He would leave that type of bravery for another occasion.
She didn’t desist. “I couldn’t invite all the people who should have been invited. Heavens, your brother is in the middle of the ocean. Not to mention that, given time and a proper strategy, the queen would have wanted to see you before the wedding. Her golden jubilee is coming soon. She’s busy.”
“Even if Isabella and I had a long engagement, I wouldn’t have wanted to invite all the people in Burke’s Peerage. I want a simple, quick ceremony with a small number of guests, and I want it now. And that’s it.”
She took his hand in hers. “I know I pressured you to get married, and I won’t deny that you need to produce an heir and a spare, but the incident taught me your happiness is more important. Are you happy? Do you want to marry Isabella?”
“Yes.” He kissed her forehead. “The incident taught me not to think too much about everything, and I like Isabella a lot.”
Exhaling, Grandmama patted his hand. “Let’s show everyone how proud we are to be the House of Beaufort.”
“Of course.”
The ride in the carriage and the pavement crowded with people triggered his anxiety. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt as the yells and bangs of that day, when he’d bled while stuck in the middle of an angry mob, echoed in his ears. He expected the people to assault the carriage at any moment. He wasn’t sure what frightened him the most—showing his face publicly or being stuck in a riot again.
“Is something the matter?” Grandmama asked.
“The crowd reminds me of that day.”
“You’ve been in a carriage after the incident and never had problems. Why now?”
“I’m nervous.”
“I’m not going to tell you not to be nervous. You should be. I am nervous. Having an unprepared, wild duchess in our family is going to be a challenge. She’ll humiliate us and cause trouble, mark my words.”
“Please stop.” He leant back into the seat. “Just for today, stop disparaging my soon-to-be wife.” His tone was more forced than usual, and Grandmama didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride.
In the church, he couldn’t stand still when he waited for his bride to arrive with the few guests. Every whisper or tap of the foot echoed off the high-vaulted ceiling of the chapel. The sunlight played with the stained-glass windows, casting a riot of colours on the Grecian columns. The sight was beautiful, but the guests had eyes only for him.
Apparently, his face was more interesting than the Panel of Kings.
His hair didn’t completely cover the scar, and surely people had speculated on what he truly looked like after the rumours about him being disfigured. As soon as Isabella was next to him, he wouldn’t care about anyone’s judgement.
Lady Montrose and Helen were sitting on the right side of the aisle while the left side was reserved for his relatives. Not many.
The music began, and he straightened. A white silhouette came into view against the backdrop of the sunlight pouring from the door to the church. He hitched a breath.
When Isabella appeared dressed in an ivory silk gown that exalted her raven hair and black eyes, all his twitches and fidgeting stopped. Her beauty captured his attention, making him forget about everything else. Even her father at her side disappeared.
She looked ethereal and beautiful, like a ray of moonlight, as she walked towards him, holding a nosegay of small white flowers. Her plush lips parted when their gazes met, and her steps faltered. Her chest heaved. The closer she came, the faster she breathed. He doubted her nervousness was only due to the ceremony.
He couldn’t say Isabella had the happy, bright countenance of a woman whose romantic dream was becoming true. She shivered, seemed to have lost weight in barely ten days, and had dark circles around her eyes. Her exhaustion might be caused by the intense two weeks they both had before the wedding and the fact her parents were about to leave.
But in case she had second thoughts about him, he wouldn’t hide who he was or how he looked, so he tilted his chin up to let his hair fall back. Helen gasped, and Lady Montrose put a hand on her chest.
Grandmama shot them a glare filled with outrage. Had they not been on consecrated ground, he was sure Helen and Lady Montrose would have been burnt by that stare. They regained their composure.
Isabella, instead, resumed walking towards him with new determination.
When she took his arm and they both faced the altar, he stroked her hand with his thumb to tell her not to be afraid. She rewarded him with a smile.
He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t do anything to upset her. All he wanted was to take care of her.
