Page 10 of His Temporary Duchess

“The carriage has arrived.” Margaret’s scowl deepened. The Duke had made the arrangements, only leaving Margaret in charge of Eleanor’s wedding clothes; he had even gone so far as to provide a carriage. This, Eleanor suspected, was not out of the kindness of his heart, and she wondered if it was designed as a snub. Erasing Margaret’s presence at the wedding and in Eleanor’s life as much as could be reasonably done.

“I’m ready,” Eleanor said, collecting the silk flowers she intended to carry as a posy. Then, too, she would have something to do with her hands.

This was it. Her marriage day. And, to her relief, the Duke had not appeared to want to make the wedding common knowledge. As it was to be held in St George’s in Hanover Square, anyone could attend, but from what Eleanor could gather, very few knew about the connection at all, and aside from a very small announcement in the paper—made from what Eleanor suspected to be necessity rather than desire—there had been no other announcement.

She preferred it this way. But Margaret, who had wanted to benefit from the connection one way or the other, had bemoaned this several times.

The carriage ride to the church was near silent, and when they finally alighted outside the small church, Eleanor discovered that her knees felt somewhat weak.

“Remember your family,” Margaret hissed in her ear. “Just because the Duke chose you over your half-sisters does not give you the right to leave us behind. I took you in and raised you, though you are not my blood. Youwillrepay me with gratitude.”

Eleanor steadied herself on the door, her stomach turning over. “I shall defer to my husband in all things.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Eleanor shook her head but said nothing else as they entered the church. Very few people were in attendance, save for the bishop, her husband-to-be, a man she didn’t know, and her sisters. Her heart lurched again at the sight of the Duke, stony-faced and flint-eyed. She had not noticed, when they had been at the masquerade together, how very cold his eyes could be, or how hard his jaw looked. There, although she had seen the capacity for hardness on his face, he had also been engaged in softness. Teasing, mostly, and humor which lightened the expression in his eyes and the firm line of his mouth.

She ought not to look at his mouth.

Yet somehow, as she walked down the old stone floor toward him, her slippers near silent, she found she could not look at much else. They had not discussed the kiss. Perhaps they would not. Eleanor did not know what she would prefer, but she did know that if theywereto discuss it, she would rather not do so with this version of her husband-to-be.

Already, she missed the other man, with his dancing eyes and compelling charm. This man appeared like a stranger to her, as though he had been dragged here against his will, even though he had chosen her.

What lay behind his decision, she could not even begin to think.

She finally reached his side and he looked down at her, eyes sharp as a hawk, a lock of brown hair falling across his forehead. She resisted the urge to brush it back. The fashion was no longer for long hair for men, but it appeared he cared as little for fashion as he did for the opinions of others.

With a gasp, she broke their eye contact and looked at the bishop, who was waiting for the Duke’s nod to begin. Once he gave it, the ceremony began, and Eleanor did her best to concentrate. Yet as the bishop droned on about the sanctity of marriage and desires of the flesh, she found her mind and gaze returning to the stern man beside her. He stood stiff-backed and tense, as though he was fighting the urge to turn and flee.

That makes the two of us.

He did not seem as though he would make for a very comfortable husband. But as soon as she thought that, she remembered the man he had been when he had taunted her into kissing him—and enjoying it.

There would be some perks to this marriage, she supposed.

He glanced down at her, a muscle flexing in his jaw, and his lips thinning further still. If anything, the look resembled a glare, though she hardly knew why;shewas not the one who had initiated this entire ordeal.

Hmm, perhaps there will be no perks after all.

She pinched her inner wrist, the sting reminding her that she was, in fact, present. This was happening. She would shortly be a Duchess. Married to the Duke of Ravenscroft. A man who could not decide between being a lovable rogue and a stern, brooding Duke.

The bishop guided her through her vows, and she promised to love and obey the silent man beside her. Then he did the same, promising to love and cherish her, and all too soon, he had taken her hand in his and was slipping a ring onto her finger like a shackle. Binding her to him for the rest of time. When she raised her gaze to his face, she found his eyes on her. All the things she wanted to say rose to the very edge of her tongue, but she’d lived in silence for too long to break it now.

His mouth twisted as though he knew some of what she was thinking, but he merely bent and brushed his lips across hers.A chaste kiss, especially considering the one they had shared once, but still, at the feel of his mouth against hers, something in her loosened. Warmed. She raised a hand, placing it on his arm to steady herself, and when he pulled back, for a fraction of a second, she wanted to follow.

When he next looked at her, his eyes seemed very dark indeed.

He tucked her arm through his and led her back down the aisle, stopping when the man came out of the pews to speak with them. He looked much the same age as the Duke, though perhaps with a more friendly demeanor. That, she reflected, was not particularly difficult. If she had to guess, she would have said that this man and the Duke were the same age, but she hadn’t known the Duke had friends.

Then again, by the way the Duke eyed this man, it hardly appeared as though they were.

“What in god’s name are you doing here, Luke?” the Duke of Ravenscroft muttered, his voice low and a little dangerous. A shiver ran down Eleanor’s spine.

“I saw the announcement in The Guardian and I thought I would come to congratulate you, old chap.” The man,Luke, clapped the Duke on the shoulder. “Finally marrying, eh? And you could not have found a more lovely bride.” He beamed at Eleanor, who gave a hesitant smile in return.

“I did notaskfor your congratulations.”

“Perhaps not, Sebastian, but you didn’t need to.”