Page 11 of The Duke Who Stole Me (Stolen by the Duke #4)

Chapter Eleven

“ Y ou must forgive me, sister, but I am still finding it a little difficult to wrap my head around the prospect of you becoming a duchess,” Ava pointed out.

Emily, Georgina, and Lady Ridgewell nodded in agreement, all staring at Juliana as though she were an intruder.

“Then your heart is in the right place because it is the same for me,” Juliana replied with a small smile.

The family of five was gathered in Lady Ridgewell’s drawing room, with Juliana sitting in the middle and the others surrounding her, their brown eyes boring into her.

It was the morning after the Montford ball, and the entirety of London had heard about the Duke of Blackmoor’s ‘ heartfelt love confession ’ and engagement to Juliana. The papers had called it something from a tale as she was ‘ on the brink of ruination .’

Frankly, that last part was not far from the truth. Had anything gone differently the night before, the papers would mark her as the ruined Ridgewell daughter.

“But you have never been nowhere near the duke. How and when did you meet him?” Emily asked, an eager smile on her lips.

Juliana bit her lower lip. How was she going to explain that she had met Vincent on the night of the attack? That she had marched into his residence in the dead of the night, unchaperoned? That she had found herself hanging on to him for dear life as he kissed her passionately?

She sighed.

Surely, his declaration to marry her came as a surprise, but what had kept her up all night, tossing and turning in her bed, was the kiss they’d shared.

She had spent the night recalling the ecstasy of being held in his strong arms and suffered the dull ache of desire at the memory of his mouth on hers, hot and demanding.

Even now, she could still feel his warmth and smell his scent.

“Are you so embarrassed to speak about these things with your sisters that you have turned beet red?” Lady Ridgewell asked, her voice pulling Juliana back to reality.

“What?” Juliana sputtered, momentarily confused.

What had her sister asked? She couldn’t recall.

“Do not bother. I also do not care for the how and when. I am only excited and happy for you, dear sister!” Ava gushed, which put a smile on Juliana’s face.

“I wish your uncle would allow your duke some breathing space. It’s been barely a day and he won’t let him come visit you,” Lady Ridgewell complained.

Ava, Emily, and Georgina nodded.

It was true that Francis sent a letter earlier stating that he had invited Vincent to Ridgewell House to talk about the impending nuptials, but it had been nearly five hours since then, and even Juliana was a little worried about him.

“You know how he is,” she said, placing a hand atop her mother’s to comfort her.

But Lady Ridgewell was not having it.

“Which is why I am utterly uncomfortable with Francis’s behavior. I suppose he has deliberately kept him in Ridgewell House for so long so he wouldn’t visit us,” she spat, folding her arms across her chest.

Juliana’s sisters giggled.

“If Vincent doesn’t visit today, he’ll surely visit tomorrow,” Juliana said.

However, at that moment, their butler appeared with the news that Francis had arrived with Vincent.

“Quickly, dust your face. Your betrothed has arrived,” Lady Ridgewell urged in a firm voice after dismissing Henry, as though Juliana was not in the room when he’d made the announcement.

“Finally, we shall meet him,” Georgina squealed in excitement and rushed to take Juliana’s arm.

While Juliana basked in the excitement of her family, a voice in the back of her head told her Francis’s attendance was cause for worry.

It wasn’t until they were all in the drawing room that her worry became reality.

“The wedding shall take place in two days,” Francis announced with an air of authority and finality.

Juliana’s head snapped to Vincent instantly, but his expression was unreadable, offering no clue to his thoughts. Despite that, he appeared exactly as she remembered—tall, sharp, and exuding an air of unshakable confidence.

“That is too soon!” Lady Ridgewell protested. “There is no reason why the wedding should be in two days.”

Francis rolled his eyes. “The decision has been made, Lady Ridgewell,” he declared firmly.

Lady Ridgewell turned to Juliana. “Darling, you must tell me the truth. Are you with child?”

The silence that followed was so heavy that everyone stilled.

Juliana’s face reddened, and she shot to her feet. “What? No! No, Mama, I am not.”

A wave of relief softened the dowager countess’s face.

“Vincent—I-I mean, Your Grace. If I may have a word, please?” Juliana tried her best to smile, despite her frustration.

Vincent nodded. He rose to his feet as he excused himself and followed her to the next drawing room.

“Is anything the matter?” she asked him, her eyes searching his face for the littlest hint.

He shook his head.

“Why, then, are we to wed in two days?”

“The faster we wed, the quicker we leave London. There are things that must be done and put in place. You don’t have to worry. I sent word to Blackmoor, and the estate will be furnished to your liking. You will want for nothing.”

Juliana pressed her lips together, her gaze fixed on him. Something about his demeanor had shifted, and she found herself itching to dissect him, to uncover the reason behind it.

But Vincent, as always, was a puzzle—impossible to read.

She had tried to see their impending union from a positive angle, but if he was going to remain so distant, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond.

A sigh escaped her lips.

“I shall need more time with my family. Two days is too soon,” she told him.

“I do not see how that is an issue. They are free to visit Blackmoor if they so desire, and you are free to visit them. You will be the Duchess of Blackmoor, hence all my residences will be open to you, including the one in the city.”

Juliana blinked, a little shocked by his directness. But she simply nodded and walked out of the room, leaving him there.

She plastered a sweet smile on her face when she rejoined her family.

This was all for them, after all. She had to remember that.

Whatever the issue with Vincent was, she would get to the bottom of it in due time. But for now, she had a wedding to plan.

The wedding, however, did not need much planning.

Vincent had carefully considered everything that needed to be done and carried it out without so much as consulting Juliana—a fact that stung her more than she cared to admit. She felt offended by his assumption that her opinion wasn’t necessary. But with her opportunist of an uncle backing him so firmly, there was little she or her mother could say—or do—in protest.

“You may kiss your bride,” the vicar announced, a small smile on his lips.

Vincent grasped her veil and lifted it gently from her face. Juliana raised her gaze to his, and for a brief moment, she thought she glimpsed something other than irritation in his eyes.

But before she could make sense of it, his strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her in for a kiss—soft and chaste, though it left a thick tension in the air.

Cheers erupted as the vicar pronounced them man and wife, and Vincent led her out of the church and toward the carriage that would take them back to Ridgewell House for their farewells.

The ceremony had been brief, emphasizing only the solemnity of the vows, as Juliana had expected. It was a marriage of convenience, after all.

Yet, what truly unsettled her was Vincent’s dismissive attitude toward the occasion. To not even invite a single member of his family, brushing it off as unimportant, was a slight she couldn’t easily overlook.

“I have always dreamed of enjoying a wedding breakfast after your wedding,” Lady Ridgewell sniffed as she pulled her into a hug. “But I am forced to reserve my dream for Ava.” She rubbed her back.

Juliana smiled. She also never had grand plans for her marriage since her engagement to Lord Norfield. However, she never would’ve expected a ceremony that was supposed to be full of joy to feel so…empty.

For whatever reason—as Vincent had refused to tell her—he had prepared everything in haste, disregarding the other events as not important, and it had angered not only her but her family as well.

“We shall have a grand ceremony for Ava, Emily, and Gina,” Juliana assured her mother, slightly pulling away from her embrace to look at her tear-stained face.

“I reckon they’ll miss having you around,” Lady Ridgewell said.

Juliana nodded, looking over her mother’s shoulder to her sisters.

They had formed a little party, talking to each other in hushed tones.

Then, Little Gina caught Juliana’s eye and smiled. She nudged their sisters, who, when they noticed Juliana and their mother, approached them.

“I cannot believe the day has come when you are going to leave us,” Ava mumbled, her voice thick with emotion. “We would much rather have you around, but being a duchess entails a duty far greater than simply taking care of us.”

Juliana giggled, opening her arms wide enough to accommodate her sisters. “All I would like to hear from the three of you is ‘we’ll miss you’ and nothing more,” she told them, hugging them tighter.

Her sisters chuckled.

“You do not have to give a speech. It is not as though I shall go to Blackmoor and never return,” she added.

“We only thought it would be proper to deliver a sendoff speech, as you have now become a duchess,” Emily said.

Juliana shook her head. “Duchess or not, I am still the same Julie who will miss her sisters dearly.” She gave them a smile.

“And what of me?” a new but very familiar voice called.

Juliana smiled, letting go of her sisters as she turned to her friend.

“Will Julie miss her only friend dearly?” Portia asked, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

“Do I have a choice? I will miss you dearly, my good friend,” Juliana assured her, wrapping her arms around her.

“I must applaud you for a game well played,” Portia whispered in her ear.

Juliana flushed instantly at the meaning behind her friend’s unexpected words. “No games were played, Portia, believe me.”

“And yet here you are, now standing as the Duchess of Blackmoor, Your Grace. Perhaps I should take a page out of your book,” Portia joked, and they both laughed.

It would go on to become Juliana’s first and last laughter of the day.

“I shall visit as often as your husband will accommodate my annoying presence,” Portia said as they pulled apart.

“And your annoying presence will be greatly appreciated.”

Just as Portia opened her mouth to bid her farewell, Vincent appeared, a frown on his face as he cleared his throat to draw their attention.

“Blackmoor is quite far. If we’re to arrive at the appointed time, we’ll need to leave right this moment.”

Juliana fought to keep a small smile on her face. She acknowledged his words with a small nod, said her goodbyes to her family, and followed him to their carriage.

She had attended the event in a modest wedding dress, seated beside a handsome, imposing man, and yet she still couldn’t quite believe she had just gotten married—especially not to the Duke of Blackmoor.

The carriage ride began in silence, the only sound surrounding them being the rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves against the cobblestones and the faint rustling of Juliana’s dress as she shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Despite her efforts, nothing seemed to ease the constant discomfort from her corset, which dug painfully into her skin.

She had originally planned to change into something less restricting, but she’d decided against it when Vincent mentioned they had to leave right that moment. Had she known that sitting for hours in the carriage would cause her harm, she would’ve changed her dress whether Vincent wanted her to or not.

She let out another restless sigh, turning her head toward the carriage window. Not even the passing scenery could ease her mind and the growing pain she was feeling.

How much longer would she have to endure the pain before they arrived at Blackmoor? Juliana wasn’t sure, and she wanted to ask Vincent, but he hadn’t said a word to her since they settled into the carriage, a scowl on his face as though the last thing he wanted was to be in the same space as her.

“Can you at least keep quiet?” His deep baritone filled the small space.

Juliana’s head snapped in his direction. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“And I wish I hadn’t. Forgive me, Your Grace, but I cannot keep quiet because it has become unbearable to breathe,” she snapped.

Vincent’s eyes widened as he watched her, as though taken aback by her outburst.

“You could relay your discomfort without sounding so defensive. You could speak more calmly,” he muttered.

Juliana’s blood boiled. “I should speak more calmly?” she scoffed, her brown eyes flashing with annoyance. “No, I must say my piece. It seems you are under the impression that this marriage affects just you. You must have forgotten that this situation has irrevocably changed my life.”

“Duchess—”

“Allow me to finish. I have been uprooted from the only place I call home, and I’m going to a place I know nothing about—a place you won’t tell me about. I barely had enough time to say goodbye to my family and friends, and yet you seem to be more affected, when it was you who put us in this situation.”

“There was no other choice. We were discovered.”

“Which was completely your fault. You kissed me, and we were discovered.”

Vincent scoffed, closing the document Juliana hadn’t noticed was sitting on his lap. “You wish to place the blame on me? Do you not recall your persistence in following me, even after I ordered you to return to the ball?”

“Simply because I had—and still have—the right to know why Geoffrey risked ruining my reputation by ending our engagement. I didn’t ask to be kissed by you!”

“And yet you didn’t shy away or push me away when I did.”

Juliana utterly hated the way her heart flipped at his words. This was the infuriating, cruel man she had always known him to be. That night at the ball, he had seemed entirely different, someone she had allowed herself to forget was just a facade.

Silence fell over them, but not for long.

“This marriage appears to be trivial to you, for you are a man, and you hold no regard for me. I am aware that the moment we arrive at Blackmoor, you will abandon me to face the burden and consequences of this union alone, just as everyone around me has.”

The silence returned, but this time, Juliana did not care one bit. She had said her piece, and her mind was at peace. Or at least it would be.

“I did not mean to offend you,” Vincent muttered, surprising her.

He had shifted forward so their knees were touching, and even through layers of fabric, she still felt a tingling sensation course through her body.

“I understand now. I wish I had done so earlier.” He paused. “If your duties as the duchess ever seem daunting, you can come to me.”

He took her hands in his own. Juliana was not convinced, especially because she had seen him turn into a different person at the Montford ball, saying only what he knew people wanted to hear. He could be misleading her too, but by the heavens, his large hands holding hers, caressing hers, seemed to do most of the convincing.

“I understand that ours is a marriage of convenience, but it doesn’t mean I will discard you. You are my wife, and it is my duty to care for you. I vowed to do so, and I will.”

By the time Vincent finished speaking, the tension between them had thickened, the air heavy with unspoken words.

Her skin brushed against his, albeit innocently, but Juliana felt the spark all the same. She longed for more than just that fleeting touch, aching to be wrapped in his arms, to feel the weight of his presence engulf her.

The unrelenting pull between them simmered just below the surface, and the harder she tried to ignore it, the stronger it became. She could feel her heart beating faster, her breath catching, but she refused to let herself succumb to the desire that swelled within her.

She nodded in response to his words, slightly biting her lower lip—a force of habit. Vincent’s eyes immediately flicked to the movement, locking onto her lips with a dark intensity.

She saw his Adam’s apple bob once as he swallowed, his eyes darkening, a hint of something dangerous flickering in them.

He wanted her too. It was impossible to ignore the way his body betrayed him—how he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, how his posture had subtly shifted.

The realization left her breathless, caught between the urge to lean into him and the fear of what might happen if she did.

But she never did.

Suddenly, the carriage rolled to a halt.

They had arrived at Blackmoor.