Page 12 of The Duchess and the Beast
“He is certainly mysterious,” Lucy had whispered with a hint of excitement in her voice. “And rather… imposing. And I don’t know if you noticed how his eyes lit up at the sight of you. He seemed quite taken, indeed.
Virtue was only half-listening to her friend. Her mind was back on the ceremony, as she tried to recollect how the Duke had behaved when he had first set eyes on her, and then later, when they’d stood side by side. He had seemed withdrawn and unsure. Not upset or disinterested, rather… awkward, perhaps? As if he hadn’t known how to behave around her. Truly, he didn’t seem like the monster that she had imagined, and she didn’t sense any malice there. But she didn’t feel any warmth either.
It was still too early to tell. That was what she decided. This enigma of a man would become clearer with time, a mystery she was now bound to unravel. A problem that would soon be remedied too, as within twenty minutes of the ceremonies' end, her father arrived to collect her once more.
“It’s time,” her father stated simply. “His Grace awaits.”
Nerves took hold as Virtue rose and made her way from the antechamber. Lucy linked her arm and helped lead her from the church to the avenue outside where her carriage awaited. Her husband stood beside it, an impressive figure as tall as the carriage itself, still masked, still emotionless. He watched her as she approached. He looked akin to something of a statue—stoic and unsmiling—as she bid her father farewell, the reality setting in that it might be a long while before she saw him again.
“I will write you, Papa, I promise,” she assured him, or more so assured herself.
“If His Grace allows it,” her father cautioned gently.
“But—Yes, of course,” she conceded. She cast a glance over her shoulder, catching the unwavering gaze of her husband, feeling a chill now as he studied her meticulously. “But I am sure he will.”
“Then you will write me.” His smile was soft, a sense of love hidden behind relief. His daughter was wed to a Duke, and despite who that Duke was, this was the best he could have hoped for.
“Until I see you,” Virtue breathed, her voice quivering. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek, smiled, firmed her chin for she felt it wobbling, and then turned and started toward the carriage. Her eyes glistened with tears, but she made no effort to rub them away.
The Duke remained where he stood, making no move to greet her or accept her from her father. He simply observed, a silentsentinel. For a moment, as she neared the carriage, his hand wavered, as though he might assist her in stepping inside, but it quickly returned behind his back in a coached maneuver.
Climbing into the carriage alone felt like crossing the threshold into an unknown realm, a world where she couldn’t fathom, let alone imagine of what might await. Virtue reminded herself of the vow she had made a week ago—a commitment to enter this marriage with optimism, and it began this moment. The journey to the Duke’s estate would take five hours, time enough to begin adjusting to her new role and perhaps start to unravel the enigma of the man she had married.
It was time that she began her new life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They rode in silence. Virtue and the Duke sat on opposite benches from one another, the space feeling far more constricted than it truly was, magnified by her husband’s considerable frame. That, and the fact that the silence that occupied the carriage felt like a third body squeezed inside. It was heavy and awkward. Tense and unsure. It hovered between the two like a layer of fog, sitting on their shoulders and smothering them so that even if they had wanted to speak, it might have been impossible.
Virtue found herself unsure of where to direct her gaze. Her husband sat in the corner diagonally across from her, seemingly content to look out the window as they rode, acting as if he was oblivious to her presence... or as if he’d rather be running beside the carriage than trapped inside of it with her. She had hoped that when their journey began, he might have said something. That he might have started a conversation simply to lessen the tension that had existed since they’d first set eyes on one another. But no. It became increasingly clear that he hadno intention of breaking the silence or mending the chasm that existed between them.
Closer than ever now, and having all the time in the world, Virtue was careful as she studied the man she was to spend her life with, wanting to get a better look at him without appearing as if she was staring. Positioned as he was, she could only see the side of his face that was hidden by the mask. Beneath it, where the skin met the edges, it appeared… normal. No burn marks, nor hideous scarring to speak of. This raised questions in her mind. Why wear the mask at all then? Was he simply trying to intimidate her? Or was it perhaps a physical manifestation of the barriers he intended to maintain in their marriage?
The carriage rattled along rhythmically. For thirty minutes at least, not a breath was exchanged between them, and the Duke didn’t so much as glance at her. Rather, in Virtue’s opinion, he seemed distinctly uncomfortable. Almost too large for the confines of the carriage, and his demeanor suggested that he would have preferred her to be anywhere but here. Was his aloofness an attempt to keep her in her shell, or could it be a sign of his own nerves?
The very notion that it washewho was nervous caused Virtue to chuckle softly to herself—until she began to think about it more. Truthfully, it was entirely plausible. What if she had completely misread him? What if he had been as unsure of this marriage as she? And what if, all he needed was a little nudge to show that this union could be more than just an emotionless transaction?
They would have to speak sooner or later and, seeing as her husband wasn’t going to break the tension, Virtue decided the onus should fall upon her. She took a deep breath. She calmed her nerves. And then, for the first time ever, she spoke to him.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice a timid whisper, although it sounded as if she was shouting such was the way it broke the silence.
“Hmm?” he started and pulled himself back inside the carriage. Turned his head and frowned at her as if he didn’t even know she could speak until now.
“How are you feeling?” she repeated, with a little more conviction. “Are you... did you enjoy the ceremony?”
“It was fine,” he responded curtly.
“It was not quite what I imagined,” she tried for a light tone, only to be met with a scowl that saw her hurry to redirect. “But it was lovely, yes. Perfect, in fact.”
“I’m...” He hesitated, and she could see his eyes looking everywhere but at her. “I’m glad.” A beat passed between them. For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to say something else, and indeed, Virtue thought she detected the beginnings of a smile tugging at the left side of his face... only to drop as he turned back to stare out the window.
Virtue’s spirits sank.
On the plus side, she was beginning to piece together a clearer picture of the man before her now, although not in the way she might have imagined. One of the prevailing rumors surrounding him was how much of a shut-in he was, which suggested that he did not socialize as much as he might. Clearly, he was a little rusty. Perhaps even shy? Not a monster at all, just someone who didn’t know how to carry a conversation. Or so, she hoped.
“I must say, I am very much looking forward to seeing your home,” she tried again, making sure to keep her tone pleasant. “Or,ourhome, as it is.”
Again, he glanced back from the window at her. And again, he looked surprised that she was trying so hard to engage him. “I should warn you, it might not be what you expect.”