Page 21 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke (Scottish Duchesses #1)

Chapter Fifteen

“ T hought I’d see this coming,” Joseph said grimly as the two men prepared for the wedding. “You said you didn’t want to marry, but you’d already invited her to live in your home. And—forgive me, old friend—but I have never seen you take such an interest in a young lady before.”

Adrian went to see the archbishop, and he came home later that day with a special license. His mother had made inquiries, and it was discovered they could marry in St. George’s in just two days’ time.

Married to a lady he did not trust, whose secrets were written all over her face. And who would now, inevitably, bring him into whatever her business was. And, as her husband, he would have to protect her. Yet someone else he had responsibility for.

Still, as always, since the moment he had dragged his undeserving father from the flames, he accepted his duty with grim stoicism.

Adrian stared in the speckled mirror. Though he tried to forget about it, he could not quite dismiss the expression of fear and devastation in her eyes when he’d found her. That wave of possessiveness flooded him again, and he bit back on the metallic sensation.

Foolish. He was a fool.

“I wanted to investigate her because I didn’t trust her,” he said coldly.

“And now you’re marrying her. A perfectly predictable turn of events.”

Adrian clenched his teeth. “I hadn’t intended to marry anyone.”

“And yet here you are. And may I say, your bride is one of the most captivating ladies I’ve had the pleasure of seeing on my tours through London’s ballrooms. There will be many a jealous young gentleman who’d intended on asking her when he felt the moment was right.”

Adrian felt a brief flare of anger at the thought. “If someone else had wanted to marry her, he ought to have done so.”

“He ought to have done.” Joseph picked up the rings. “Now, are you ready? It wouldn’t do for you to be late to your appointment with your bride.”

Adrian just grunted again, casting another glance at his reflection in the mirror.

In recognition of the event, he wore his best clothes, buttons polished to a gleam, his waistcoat elegant without being flamboyant. He was expected to make the best of the situation and to accept his fate with grace.

He wondered if Isobel would do the same.

To be sure, she had intended to marry someone , and he flattered himself that, as a duke—and with the history of their meetings behind them, he was not an entirely unwelcome choice. Yet when he had announced their engagement, she had looked at him with horror and dismay in her eyes.

If he had been feeling any ardor in the moment—which, of course, he had not—that would have put paid to it quickly enough.

Still, as his wife, she would have to behave in a certain way. Conform, at least a little.

He was not looking forward to that conversation.

They arrived at the small church with time to spare, as was typical of Adrian’s timeliness. He engaged the vicar in idle conversation as guests took their places in the pews. His mother, Eliza and her mother and Joseph amongst the most notable.

Isobel had no family attending.

Of course, logistically, she could not, given the distance between their locations.

And yet, the sadness in her eyes had almost unmanned him; he had almost recommended that they wait.

Only the consideration of her reputation prevented any such suggestion.

She might not care about her reputation, but if she was to be his wife, he did.

“Are you ready?” Joseph asked, his hands tucked behind his back. “It’s time.”

Adrian glanced at the door, which remained closed.

As she had no family in attendance, it had been decided that his mother would walk her down the aisle, delivering her to him. At the thought, his heart beat a little unsteadily.

The doors at the far end opened, and an organ began to play as Isobel stood silhouetted against the sunlight. Her hair looked as though it had been caught alight, and Adrian had to resist the urge to let out a small gasp.

She looked, as always, fiercely beautiful. Whatever fear had plagued her at the ball was not in evidence here.

She accepted his mother’s arm, walking toward him slowly. When she reached him, he took hold of her arm, drawing her closer to him. The ancient church, somehow, didn’t seem sacred enough of a place for her.

“Yer Grace,” she murmured.

“If we are to be married, you can at least call me Adrian.”

“Adrian.” She tried the word on her tongue as though she had never said it before, but he knew she had—in fact, he had a strong memory of precisely the way she had said his name in the past.

“Are you ready?”

Her chin rose. “Are ye sure ye want to do this, Adrian?”

“Even if I were not, the altar is hardly the place to back out.” He gazed at her face through the veil, wondering what lay behind her eyes and wondering what she saw behind his. “I am committed, Isobel, and I hope you are, too.”

The vicar began the service, and Isobel turned to the front. Adrian looked down at her red hair, muted under the veil and the dim light of the church. She wore a pale blue gown that looked rather lovely against her creamy complexion.

Simply put, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

The vicar declared them husband and wife, and Adrian took her veil, raising it over her head.

“Well, wife?” he asked, looking down into her face.

She gazed back steadily. “Husband.”

Then, because it seemed the most natural thing in the world, he bent down to kiss her.

Isobel’s heart thumped in her chest as Adrian’s lips pressed against hers.

She had never kissed a man in front of an audience before—and even though it was barely a kiss, more a light brush of his mouth against hers, she had to fight the urge to panic. To run.

This is allowed , she reminded herself. He is my husband .

He was indeed her husband, but it didn’t feel real. He took her hand in his and led her back down the aisle. First, the wedding breakfast, then they would be alone. She would be alone with the duke. Her husband.

Her breath came a little fast.

What would happen then?

As they emerged into the spring sunshine, the duchess—now the dowager—followed them outside, beaming.

“Congratulations, both,” she said, kissing first Adrian, then Isobel on the cheek. “I already felt like you were my daughter, dearest, but now I can say for certainty that you are.”

“Thank ye,” Isobel said, flushing despite herself.

“I’m sorry your mother and father couldn’t be here to celebrate with you. But mark my words, my dear—they would be proud of you.”

“I hope so.” Isobel blinked back tears.

She hadn’t heard back from her mother yet, but that was hardly surprising; she couldn’t be certain that her letter had reached them yet. By the time they read it and replied, she would already be married.

She already was married.

Her stomach twisted at the thought.

“They trusted me to find a husband,” she said, the words almost inaudible. “But I hardly think they expected this.”

I certainly didn’t . But she didn’t say the words.

The dowager duchess patted her on the arm. “Your mother especially will be delighted about this turn of events, believe me.”

Adrian raised his brows. “Shall we have this conversation over breakfast? Eliza is bursting to run over here and speak with us, but it would be best for us all if she saved her enthusiasm for indoors.”

“Of course, of course.” The dowager touched Isobel’s cheek with gentle fingers. “You are your mother’s daughter,” she said. “Never forget it.”

Isobel forced a wobbly smile, and Adrian handed her into the carriage back to his home.

The journey took all of five minutes, not allowing for any conversation along the way, and when they arrived, they were immediately swept into the celebration. The staff had laid on the most sumptuous repast Isobel could have imagined—and she had been living in the duke’s home for several weeks.

All this for her.

Eliza approached with her hands extended. “You’ve done it! How does it feel to be a duchess?”

“A duchess,” Isobel repeated, feeling a little lost.

“Yes! Now Miss Wentworth will be forced to make nice, and it will destroy her inside. There are very, very few other eligible dukes in London—she cannot match you.”

“Eliza, that is not why I married him.”

“Oh no, of course not,” Eliza said hurriedly. “But you can hardly tell me it was out of love for my cousin. He is a good man, of course, and I expect he will be a good husband when it becomes necessary—but you have never shown any particular signs of fondness for him.”

No, she had not, at least in public. In private, that was entirely a different matter.

But perhaps it was better that she claim some fondness for him now he was her husband. Better for them both.

“I am not unhappy to be marrying him,” she said hesitantly.

“I should hope not! You are now a duchess! It is better than anything I could have conceived.” Eliza lowered her voice.

“I never thought he would consent to marry you, you know. The duchess—sorry, the dowager duchess—has been trying to encourage him into matrimony for several years now, and he has been quite firm in his refusal.”

“Oh.” Isobel’s heart gave a quick, hard thump. “Well, I suppose he is already wedded to his duty.”

“Yes, I suppose. But you must eat, drink, and make merry, dearest—this is an event to celebrate!” Eliza went to the table, and Isobel glanced across at the duke, where he was speaking to his friend.

Both men looked grim.

Yes, perhaps the duke had agreed to marry her, but it had certainly not been a choice he relished.

The dowager duchess appeared at her elbow. “There you are,” she said, taking Isobel’s arm. “I wanted to speak to you about the arrangements going forward.”

“Arrangements?”

“Why, of course. Did you expect me to sit here and intrude? There’s a dower house here in London. In truth, it is more than time that I retire to it. I’ve been making arrangements to have it refitted in the current style, and when the breakfast is over, I will be removing there to live instead.”

Isobel gasped. “Oh, but—I could never chase ye from yer own house!”

“It’s tradition, my dear. And much as I love this house, and it has been my home for a great many years, I understand that there is a time for all things to end. I always swore to myself that I would leave when Adrian married, and now he has done so, it is time for me to leave, too.”

She winked. “Besides, I was a bride once. I remember how it felt to inherit a large house and a family that was not my own. Everything will go more smoothly if I am not here.”

Isobel struggled with her words, but eventually, she managed, “Does the duke know?”

“Of course. I informed him before coming over here. All the arrangements are made—there is nothing you can do to prevent me. And, with a little reflection, you will be extremely pleased that I left you both alone to come to terms with this new life of yours.”

Isobel wasn’t so sure she would find that relief. The dowager duchess had acted as a buffer between the duke and herself. Without that buffer, she didn’t know how their life together would go.

But she knew better than to confess to such feelings, so she merely raised her chin and smiled.

“Ye are too good, Yer Grace,” she said, and that was that.