Page 19 of Seven Days with her Duke (Hearts of Whitmores #3)

CHAPTER 19

D ominic felt sick.

While it was true he had hardly slept in the last two days––or nights––and had ingested little beyond brandy and a loaf of bread Nicholas had forced on him that morning, it also could have been caused by the dreary day he woke up to that Friday or something that had been in the bread. Or it could even have been caused by the fact he would be married within the next two hours.

He supposed it could be a great matter of things, really.

Sitting in a corner of the church gave him an opportunity to collapse in on himself. Internally he was proud of himself when he didn’t flinch over Nicholas’s hand patting his shoulder. Then it stayed, then it squeezed, like a reminder that he couldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s better this way,” his friend had attempted to cajole him while practically force feeding him the bread. “Eleanor knows you. Whether there’s a decent bone in your body any more, that’s what I don’t know.”

“I don’t either,” Dominic thought he might have said. Or he could have grunted. He wasn’t certain; the last couple of days had been a blur.

I should have died. I should have let him shoot me.

But he could hardly turn down a woman with tears in her eyes, let alone Eleanor’s fierce resilience combined with the wobble of her chin. He would die a thousand deaths for her. He just wished he could do that instead of marrying the poor chit.

“You’ve been given a second chance.” He reluctantly looked up to see Nicholas giving him a hard look. It made him wonder if they could even count themselves friends now. Brothers by marriage, perhaps, but friends? “Take it, Dominic, and make yourself better.”

That must have been what Nicholas had done; he was happier than Dominic ever remembered him being. Or rather, he had been, until the man had caught him and his sister tumbling out of a closet.

“Becoming better means there would be another version of myself that already exists somewhere with me,” Dominic murmured, dropping his gaze to his hands. “But there isn’t. There is no better version of me. Not a single part of me is any better than what I am now. And even that falls short.”

“Be who you will,” Nicholas growled, “but I swear to the heavens, if you hurt Eleanor any more than you already have, I will keep my word and we will have that meeting.”

With a hard swallow, Dominic gave him a nod. “Good. I look forward to it.”

Snatching his hand away, his friend gave him a strange look. “It almost sounds as though you really would rather die. Dominic, really. You have always had a fancy for Eleanor. I’ve never been confident of her feelings, admittedly, but I had hoped…”

He had hoped something would happen. He had hoped the two of them would fall madly in love with one another, perhaps, or at least liked each other enough to be together.

“You’ve got your wish, haven’t you?” Dominic dropped his head to his hands. The brandy had been holding back a migraine but he felt that now. Nicholas had the bottles locked away; his household had received them back but now he wasn’t home to enjoy a glass.

When I’m home again, I’ll enjoy a bottle all to myself. Two of them perhaps. Even three just to forget this.

This being his wedding day. He let out a small groan even as he heard footsteps from the front of the church. Since they’d just spoke to the pastor who went to his backroom, it had to be the rest of their party. He suddenly felt the need once again to upend his breakfast.

“Nicholas,” he started uneasily.

Hefting him to his feet, his friend––brother-in-law and best man though Dominic had never asked that of him––told him, “hold it until after your vows. Then you can die all you like and leave my sister a happy widow.”

“She would appreciate a quiet year of mourning,” Dominic mumbled with what he salvaged of his dry humor.

“Just give her a day at least. That’s all I ask.”

He answered with a grunt as they moved to the middle of the church to greet everyone else. There was a collection of family and friends, small and intimate and still too many. Everyone was respectfully quiet and well dressed. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anyone. Especially Nicholas.

Still, there was no denying he cared for Eleanor.

His bride was hidden away in the middle of the party as Adrian and Charlotte led the way. The couple were dressed in their Sunday best, almost as though it were their own union to celebrate today.

They would be family now, too. Charlotte would be his cousin by marriage. Twisting his lips, Dominic mused over such a notion. He’d lost everyone so long ago. And yet here he was, gaining more people than he was ready to entertain.

Fortunately, the other duke and duchess gave way to Eleanor who had been hidden behind them. She’d been buried in their small party; he wondered if that was done on purpose by her or someone else. It wasn’t unsurprising that she would wish to hide even on her own wedding day.

If only we had both hidden better.

There were so many mistakes they had made. Or him. It had all been him. He didn’t know where to start the list, only that it was unending and soon Eleanor’s name would be written all over it.

She looked tired.

That was the first note Dominic made, though he supposed she was resting up a bit better than he was. She didn’t look sick to his stomach. His second note was of how pretty she appeared.

Having chosen a muted cream-colored gown and not a drop of jewelry, Eleanor looked like she could have been taking a stroll in the park. Not walking down a church aisle to become a duchess. When she drew closer, he noted a sprig of small white flowers set in one of her curls. It was placed near her eyes.

Those pretty black eyes that shined like the bottom of a lake, ready to drown him and bury him deep. He welcomed the idea. She deserved to do away with him. Especially since he could see a tinge of redness to them.

Eleanor walked with her chin up, but she had cried recently.

It’s already begun. I’ve already started destroying her. How long will it be before she is gone for good?

For the first time in a very long time, Dominic found himself absolutely petrified. He wouldn’t admit to such a fear. But he felt the emotion choking him, threatening to do him in.

Yet he remained standing with a vague awareness of more company at his side. The clearing of the throat told him it was the pastor. They all watched their guests take their seats in the first two rows and then Eleanor reached his side.

How sweet she was. Delectable and tender, a fresh pastry just out of the oven. Too warm for his touch and much too delicate. He would surely break her if he touched her. Hungry between it all, he eyed her sweet curves and bouncing curls before settling on her lips pressed tightly together.

“Welcome,” called the pastor. “All are welcome in the house of God. Today we come together to perform the sacred rites of matrimony. For Dominic Elkins and Eleanor Whitmore, we are so glad to have you bound together in the sight of God.”

A snort sounded to his right. Dominic threw Nicholas a stare but that didn’t stop the pastor who continued right along.

No one said a word; they hardly breathed. Several times, Dominic forgot there were more people here than their man of God and Eleanor at his side. Once in a while she wavered so their elbows brushed. Every time, his breath caught like he was a young boy with his first love.

No, not love. Never love.

Fortunately, the ceremony didn’t take much longer. He politely recited his vows while avoiding gazing at Eleanor. When she recited hers, however, he could feel her eyes boring into his.

There was a ring placed on her finger. Dominic vaguely recognized it as something of his mother’s and wavered with it in hand, staring at the emerald. It was a very dark coloring. Some part of him recalled Nicholas ordering his household to find potential rings in the family vault. He’d handed over the collection to Dominic, who had chosen blindly.

“Oh,” Eleanor murmured, pulling him from his thoughts.

Nicholas nudged him from behind as though to tell him to move. The man was blasted impatient. Or, judging by the hesitant expressions of their audience, he was taking his time.

“Here.” Dominic swallowed before attempting to put it on Eleanor’s finger. But he tried to do it without touching her skin––too warm, surely, and he didn’t wish to ruin her further––and then it got stuck on her knuckle.

When he tried to shove it one more time, she winced and pulled back. She put on a pained smile as he realized he was being a cad. The small bouquet she held was easy to shift while she moved the ring from her fourth finger to her pinky.

“I have deceptively thick fingers, I’m afraid,” Eleanor muttered to no one in particular. He heard the false cheer, and it left a thick ugly feeling inside; she was attempting to lighten the atmosphere with a jest.

He should have been doing that.

“We’ll have it sized,” Nicholas said quietly. “Or replaced.”

“That’s quite all right for now.” The pastor, old and half-blind, beamed at them. “We may continue with the ceremony. Where was I? Oh yes. I pronounce that they are man and wife, in the name of the Father, and of the son, and of the Holy Ghost. May the Lord fill you with grace that ye may so live together in this life and in life everlasting. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed everyone else.

With that, a lump handed hard and low in his stomach. It took root and he could feel it searching him out so it might consume him. He looked at his hands and then Eleanor’s hands. They were so lovely and graceful. Hardly thick.

“Congratulations!” Nicholas thumped him hard on the back, nearly knocking him off his feet. “To the bride and groom!”

They left shortly after that. There was no reason to linger, and the pastor appeared to need his rest, ushering them neatly out of the church. All Dominic wanted to do was go home and lie down himself. But Charlotte had taken over hosting at Nicholas’s home, so he was forced to attend a traditional wedding breakfast there.

And what an absolute tepid affair it was.

“Let’s go,” Dominic muttered thickly after an hour, staring at his untouched plate and Eleanor’s. Polite chatter played around them but the frequent glances in his direction were more than he could bear.

Eleanor shifted in his direction with a small frown on her lips from where she had been speaking to Charlotte. As Nicholas sat on Dominic’s other side, he had the distinct feeling that the man was holding him from going anywhere. But where Eleanor might go, he could.

“Now?” she asked, clear reluctance in her voice as she glanced at her cousin.

His hands were on the arms of his chair since he was ready to rise. He would walk home if he could. The distance didn’t matter. Nor the rain that spattered against the windows behind him. His headache had returned and all he wanted to do was drink himself into a deep stupor once and for all.

But he sat back down, misery in every breath. “Or later if that’s what you desire.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Eleanor hesitated. She spoke in a soft, quiet voice, that was perfect on a day when he had a hangover. Except he didn’t have one. He simply felt ill. And it didn’t help that she spoke to him like she spoke to everyone else.

He didn’t like that. Didn’t care for it. She didn’t poke and prod and push him, making him work for a smile. Not that he had the energy to try.

“Fifteen minutes?”

“Yes, all right.” Her lips twitched like she attempted a smile before she resumed her conversation with her cousin.

Meanwhile, Nicholas was moving chairs. Off he went to speak with Adrian’s great aunt, Lady Theodosia, and Adrian took the man’s place at his side. While Dominic stared at him, Adrian nodded with a smile to his wife before focusing his attention back to Dominic. The smile disappeared.

“Congratulations on becoming a married man,” he said in a low voice that no one but him would be able to hear. “And welcome to the family. You’re a fortunate man, Your Grace. I hope you know what a treasure you hold now.”

Dominic feared he did in a way no one else knew. But he was not enough for it. For her. So he said nothing.

Tilting an eyebrow up, Adrian eventually added, “My aunt wanted me to reassure you that you are in an excellent position for anything you should care to enjoy in a life. You have a title. Your estates. And now Lady Eleanor Elkins, Duchess of Salford. Should you like to keep everything, there are expectations.”

He grew weary over speech like this. “Is this a lecture or a threat?” That was all he had been hearing from Nicholas for days.

“Both.” Adrian offered a wolfish grin that would have sent a shiver down Dominic’s spine if he could feel anything. “You’re a very fortunate man and we only wish to encourage you to enjoy what you have. Hold it close. Appreciate it.”

“Or else?” Dominic asked miserably.

Smiling now, Adrian nodded and rose to his feet. He clapped Dominic on the shoulder. It was a bully of a move as the two of them were near equal in size and might. Insulting, really. But he did nothing, accepting this for now. “Or else.”

There was a trail of threats. A short missive had even arrived from the countryside. Joanna had letters for half their party. Even him.

‘You’re nothing but a thief stealing a prized jewel. Learn to treasure her or I shall gladly retrieve what you don’t deserve.’

Dominic liked her honesty. She understood what not everyone did. But it brought him little pleasure as he glanced at his wife. Letting her go was the best thing he could do. However, now that they were wed, he feared he could never let her leave him.