Page 10 of The Duchess and the Beast
“And Lady Hartleigh?” Simon pressed. “Marriage is complex enough, but withher...” He sighed, shaking his head. “It will not be simple, my good man.”
“When has anything in my life ever been simple?” Sebastian replied, a bitter laugh escaping him as he unconsciously adjusted his mask. The irony of his situation didn't escape him either—it seemed to forge a sort of grim resolve within him, in fact. “Why should this marriage be any different?”
Onlysomeresolve, however. The truth was, despite Sebastian’s assurances that he had made the right decision, and that he was prepared for the consequences they wrought, inside he was more terrified than he’d ever been in his entire life. Considering the dark and treacherous paths he had walked, his current dread spoke volumes about the gravity of his decision.
Last week, His Grace, Sebastian, Duke of Greystone, had set a course that would irrevocably alter his life in ways he could scarcely comprehend. Whether this change would ultimately be for better or worse remained shrouded in uncertainty. He truly had no idea. The only comfort he could take, as morose as it might have been to admit, was that things couldn’t get any worse than they already were.
As to the decision he had made? It was a marriage of all things, committing himself to a woman whom he had never met, one who he wouldn’t lay eyes on for the first time until he saw her appear at the end of the aisle.
But that was also by design.
Once more, his hand strayed to his white domino mask, a slight adjustment made. He hadn’t given much thought to it until his closest friend, Lord Simon Wellington, commented on it just now. It had become so much a part of him, that the idea of unlacing it for the ceremony had never truly crossed his mind. But would that be so strange? Would his bride see him wearing his mask and wonder at what she had gotten herself into? Would it frighten her? Despite the harsh rumors that swirled around Sebastian, the last thing he wanted was to intimidate his bride. In fact, as strange as it was for him to consider, a small part of him even wanted her to like him.
But that was folly, he knew. He chastised himself for even entertaining the thought. He was a monster, inside and out. Afreak, or so some people said of him. And for that reason, he knew that this marriage would never be more than what it had started out as; a binding of two lives—not out of desire but necessity.
“Christ, why did they deem it a necessity to select a parish halfway across England,” Simon groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Though he was of a lesser stature than Sebastian, he made a show of stretching his legs as if trapped in a coffin as opposed to a sumptuous carriage. “You ought to have made one of the prerequisites of the marriage that she come to you.”
Sebastian’s thoughts were pulled back from their dark reverie. “She is already coming to live with me at Greystone, Simon. Leaving behind everything she knows. I thought a ceremony at her father’s parish was the least I could offer in return.”
“The least?” He blew through his lips. “By the sounds of it, you’re still drawing the shorter straw in this arrangement where I’m concerned.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Sebastian replied dryly.
Simon leaned forward abruptly at that, his voice lowering to a scandalous hush. “But youhaveheard what they say about her, have you not?” His eyes flashed eagerness. “The reason her last betrothal fell apart -- not that she got that far, mind you. It has been circulated that—”
“I amwell awareof what has been circulated,” Sebastian interjected sharply.
“Are you, really? Because you don’t seem overly concerned. If it weremyfuture bride who was rumored to be caught in a compromising position with—”
“Enough!” Sebastian’s voice thundered, causing Simon to recoil back into his seat. “Apologies,” he muttered after a moment. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
“No, no,” Simon hastened to reassure him, his voice lighter now. “The two of you are to be wed, and I ought to know better than to speak of her like that. In fact...” His smile broadened, almost theatrically. “I am sure that she is as delightful as a daisy in spring and just as lovely. The two of you will make a fine pairing.”
Sebastian eyed Simon warningly but decided not to pursue the conversation any further. He had a temper, Sebastian, one he couldn’t always control. And seeing as he had so few friends to begin with, Simon being his closest, he was loath to alienate one of his only allies over idle gossip or fleeting irritations.
The rumors he had heard about Lady Hartleigh didn’t bother Sebastian as much as they should have. After all, he knew firsthand the sting of unheralded gossip and how exaggerated it might be. Surely, the things they said about her weren’t all true? But then, why did her father agree to this marriage so readily? Why to him, of all people? A Duke, sure. But when considering his circumstances... he should have been the last person a father would wish to see their only daughter wed.
It added a layer of confusion to what was already a convoluted situation. One that Sebastian had spent the better part of a week agonizing over. He had never planned on getting married. He wouldn’t burden someone with such a thing. But driven by dire circumstances, he found himself on the precipice of a union that felt both inevitable and ill-fated. The wedding was set for tomorrow; there was no retreat now. In less than twenty-four hours, he and Lady Hartleigh would be bound together, for better or for worse...
Andfor worseseemed to be the most probable outcome. Not necessarily because he credited the gossip swirling around his bride-to-be, but rather due to the whispers that shadowed his own step. Not all the rumors they spoke were true, but not all of them were false either. For, in any rumor, there is a nugget of truth and, as the carriage made its way gently along the road, the sun just now setting behind them, Sebastian again foundhimself tracing the contours of his mask, knowing in his heart this venture of his was doomed to failure.
His future wife, Lady Hartleigh, would take one look at him and scream for the heavens. She would see him as a monster or a beast, as everyone else did. And to make matters even more tragic, where his physical deformity was indeed repugnant, it wasn’t even his darkest flaw. That deeper, more sinister aspect of himself would eventually come to light.
And it was this, above all, that convinced him of the marriage's inevitable demise before it could even truly begin.
CHAPTER SIX
“Are you ready, dear?” Her father appeared in the doorway, watching her as if he had been there this whole time.
Virtue, having been lost to her thoughts, spun about, startled by the sight of him. “N-now?” she stammered, hand clutching her pearl necklace. “Already?”
“He’s ready for you,” her father replied curtly. “If you are ready for him.”
What a thing to say. And what a way to say it! No well wishes. No excitement or eagerness or sense that her father was having second thoughts. It was spoken as if this was some sort of business transaction, something that he wanted to get over with because it was taking up valuable time that could have been spent elsewhere.
Indeed, this entire week, that was precisely what Virtue had felt. A pawn to be moved by her father, a game piece that had been played, and now all that was left was to await its dividends. The week leading up to one’s wedding should have been filled with excitement and grandeur and that feeling that life was moving forward toward unexpected but welcome places. If she had been marrying Lord Prescott, she had no doubt the manor would have been in a flutter all week as the staff buzzed with anticipation, with visitors pouring in to offer their congratulations and blessings.
Yet, there was none of that now. No excitement stirred the air, no festive whispers filled the halls—only a stark, oppressive silence that weighed heavily on her spirit.