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Arthur frowned.

This was...

Unexpected.

She was not plain by any conceivable measure. Fashionable society would not have called her beautiful. They might have criticised her olive complexion, preferring porcelain skin and delicate fragility, yet Arthur found himself noticing none of that first, his gaze settling upon her face.

It was softer than he had expected. Rounded cheeks, lightly flushed beneath the morning sun, gave her a warmth entirely at odds with the cold bargain that had brought her here. Someone had clearly attempted to tame the abundance of black curls upon her head, but they had failed. Several glossy ringlets had already escaped their pins, framing her face in a way that only softened her further.

Then came her eyes.

Startlingly wide and green, they stirred something within him. They held none of the calculation he had expected, nor the resentment he would scarcely have blamed her for. Instead…

Good Lord.

She looked hopeful.

Hopeful that this morning might mark the beginning of something worth smiling about.

His gaze drifted lower. Around her neck rested a rusting locket, its worn silver nestled against the soft skin at the base of her throat. In another life, it would have been skin he tenderly kissed. A better man would not have let his mind wander down her body, thinking of what might lie beneath her gown as he stood in the house of God. Thankfully, he was a wretch, so there would be no misunderstanding between him and the Almighty.

Having taken her in with one swift glance, he could not find a positively ugly thing about her.

Then she smiled up at him.

His scowl deepened.

This was not the wife he had requested.

Chapter 5

Heaven help her, Eliza thought.

The walk down the aisle had passed in a blur. She had scarcely heard a word the clergyman had spoken. Every thought in her head had been consumed by the man waiting before her.

He was...large. Not merely tall, though he towered over her by the better part of a head, but broad through the shoulders and chest in a way that spoke of years spent carrying more than a gentleman ordinarily ought. His dark brown hair had been neatly combed back for the occasion, though one stubborn lock had already begun to hang near his temple. Fair skin, deep brown eyes, and a shadow of stubble darkened the line of his jaw, as though he had shaved only that morning before presenting himself at the altar.

She found herself wondering whether he always looked so thunderous.

Then she saw the scar.

It stretched in faded pink from his left eyebrow to the edge of his jaw in one jagged sweep. Like the branch of a silver birch, it divided twice as it descended, thinner lines spreading across his cheek and jaw. It must have been terribly painful. Whatever had caused it had come dangerously close to taking his eye.

She forced herself not to stare.

Instead, she looked beyond it. His shoulders remained perfectly squared, his hands clasped behind his back with military precision. Even standing motionless, there was a quiet strength about him that seemed to fill the small chapel.

Imposing without having spoken a single word, he made her feel remarkably small, despite being of perfectly average height herself.

He was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon, though admittedly she had not laid her eyes upon anyone outside the village; she felt confident that the man standing in front of her would pale in comparison to any man who would make her future acquaintance.

"Do you, Arthur Roger Wellington, Duke of Buckingham, take Eliza Harper to be your lawful wedded wife?" Her thoughts were interrupted by the priest.

She was ashamed that she had spent so much of the ceremony admiring the man before her without ever learning his full name. Not that she had been given much opportunity. Even so, as she met his eyes, she saw the scowl on his face had not softened since she first stepped into the chapel.

Was the sight of her unpleasant? Did he dislike her dress?

Perhaps he was simply nervous. Surely he would not refuse her now. Eliza would not begrudge him if he did; she only hoped he would be honourable enough to fulfil his end of the bargain still, though that thought did little to steady her.