Page 28 of Bound By the Duke

He moved to his study then, setting the painting gently on his desk as he had promised, right in the center. Then, he lowered himself into his seat, determined to bury himself in the stack of documents—the comfort of the known.

CHAPTER 8

There were far too many flowers.

That was Aurelia’s first thought as she stepped into the chapel, her fingers curled tightly around her bouquet.

Flowers in every shade of blue, arranged with such elegance that the entire space smelled like a perfume bottle left uncorked for too long.

Someone, probably her mother, had seen fit to drown the altar in flowers. Even the poor organist looked mildly suffocated by the number of flowers decorating his bench.

And yet it was beautiful. Painfully so.

“Breathe,” Celia whispered from behind her, adjusting the trailing hem of her veil. “Don’t faint. That would be terribly dramatic, even for you.”

Aurelia almost laughed. Almost.

But the moment was too real. It was too close and too full of pressure. It wasfinallyhappening. She was dressed in a wedding gown, and despite the gloves, her palms were sweaty from nervousness.

And there, standing like a thundercloud in formal black, was her soon-to-be husband.

The Duke of Whitmore.

Percival.

His eyes met hers instantly. There was no smile or a flicker of hesitation. Just that intense, unreadable gaze that made her feel like everything about her was being quietly measured.

She took a deep breath before taking one step down the aisle. And then another.

Lord Scovell was steady at her side, his posture proud and his chin lifted. The very image of composed nobility.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” Aurelia whispered back.

But she didn’t feel beautiful. She felt… fragile. As if one wrong step would snap her down the middle of the aisle.

Every gaze in the chapel felt heavy on her. The attention. She had spent five years wishing for such attention, wishing for that prideful look in her parents’ eyes, and now that it was finally happening, it felt… too much.

And still, she kept walking. Towardhim. Toward the man she would marry.

The strange blue-eyed man who had looked at her like she was a puzzle he didn’t particularly want to solve but somehow couldn’t stop turning over.

Percival did not move when she finally reached him. He simply nodded to Lord Scovell, then turned his full attention to her.

There was no warmth or cruelty in this gaze. It was just… present.

The ceremony began shortly. As per convention, vows were spoken, and rings were exchanged. Aurelia did her best to nod at the right moments, spoke when prompted, and kept her smile soft and her back straight.

On the bright side, she ticked one item off her list:Get married.

When the final vow was spoken and they were pronounced husband and wife, the guests erupted in polite applause.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest intoned.

There was a brief, awkward pause as everyone wondered if Percival would kiss her.

He didn’t.