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Safe, she reminded herself, counting the visible cracks in the molding. Just look at the stucco. Ignore the way his thumb brushes your knuckles.

“With all my worldly goods, I thee endow,” the duke continued, the words rolling over her.

She traced the outline of a painted cloud with her eyes, desperately hoping the cherubs wouldn’t notice her heart hammering against her ribs.

“…and with my body, I thee worship.”

Juliet’s gaze locked tighter onto a particularly dusty angel, thinking furiously that the ceiling really did require a thorough scrubbing.

When the vicar produced the ring, the duke took her left hand, and she felt the metal slide over her finger, cool and deliberate and final in the way of things that cannot be undone.

She looked down, just once. A plain gold band, nothing decorative. She understood that, and did not know quite what to do with the understanding.

She looked up. He was already watching her face, but then he glanced away first.

The vicar reached the closing words of the ceremony.

At its end, she breathed in and followed Adam to sign her name. She’d barely turned from the altar before Eloise appeared at her elbow, materializing from the staff pews with the single-mindedness of a small force of nature.

“I knew it,” Eloise announced, looking up at Juliet with both hands clasped over her heart. “You look exactly as I said you would.”

“You said I would look like a princess,” Juliet reminded her.

“Yes, and I was right.” Eloise stepped closer to study the satin trim at the cuff of Juliet’s sleeve. “You are glowing, Juliet!” She looked up with utterly adoring eyes.

Juliet’s chest tingled with warmth. “Thank you, Eloise. You look ethereal as well.”

“E…what does that mean?” Eloise asked as she reached out to take Juliet’s free hand; her fingers were warm and small and entirely confident.

“It means you look like an angel,” Juliet said, tapping the young girl on the nose.

Eloise giggled, then said rather solemnly, “You are going to stay now. For always.”

“For always,” Juliet agreed, happily.

Honestly, she wanted to collapse to the floor now that she was finally free from her father’s selfish machinations, but there were still guests to greet, even if they were very few.

“Finally! A new duchess!” A voice called, and she lifted her head.

The man crossing the chapel toward her was fair-haired, perhaps thirty, and had the look of someone who knew how to enjoy himself regardless of the circumstances, and never once regretted it.

As soon as he reached her, he bowed over her hand with a showman’s ease. “Daniel Lancaster,” he drawled. “Lord Honeysett, when absolutely required, which I try to arrange as infrequently as possible.”

Juliet blinked.

“Daniel is a friend of mine,” the duke explained.

Honeysett took that as an invitation to keep talking. “You mean a very old friend. I’ve known Adam since Eton, which means I have seventeen years’ worth of information about him that he would very much prefer I not share.” He glanced over at the duke, who had come to stand three feet away, arms crossed with the look of a man monitoring a situation. “I am, of course, delighted to negotiate.”

“The duchess will not be taking any negotiations from you,” Adam said.

“The duchess has not yet had the chance to accept or decline for herself,” Honeysett pointed out.

“She is a duchess,” he sighed. “She is above negotiation.”

“She is standing right here,” Juliet finally interrupted them both, and the marquess’ expression broke into genuine enjoyment.

“Oh, I do believe this is going to be the most entertaining marriage of the Season,” he said.