Page 5 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)

Chapter Four

“ Y ou look beautiful.” Landon gestured to Lydia as their carriage trundled down the lane towards the church.

Lydia touched her hair self-consciously, glancing down at her dress.

It was an elegant, bright blue satin, A-line dress with embroidered flowers in silver thread and real pearls stitched into it.

The embroidery matched the design on her new shoes and gloves.

It was not the most extravagant thing, but it was nicer than any dress she had owned before.

The pearl necklace she wore was one of the few items of jewelry she had not sold—a gift from her father before he had died. Her hair was arranged into an elegant bun, strands framing the sharpness of her face. When she had seen herself in the mirror, she had scarcely been able to recognize herself.

“Thank you, Land.” Lydia tried to smile, but it felt brittle.

Landon was sitting across from her in the finest suit he owned, not new but respectable enough for the wedding. He twirled his top hat between his fingers, glancing out of the window.

“You must be glad that the Duke managed to convince Father Peter to have the ceremony here.” Landon looked at his feet, shifting guiltily. “I forgot about special licenses.”

Lydia bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to point out that even if her brother had remembered, it would not have been an option, not with the state of their finances. “I suppose it is one of the perks of marrying a duke.”

“I wish you did not have to do this.” Landon’s hazel eyes were wide. “Though it seems like he will look after you.”

Lydia could hear the hint of desperation in her brother’s voice, and she gave his hand a squeeze as the Duke’s words played in her head. You would be free to live the life you choose. “Only time will tell, but thus far it seems promising.”

The thought of his eyes flashing when he had swept from the room, the confidence with which he had said nothing was impossible… the memory sent a shiver down Lydia’s spine. And now, I am getting married in the church I wanted.

The carriage drew to a halt, and Landon looked out of the window. “We are here—are you ready?”

Lydia nodded, her heart speeding up as they got down from the carriage, blinking in the sunlight. To the right of the path were the graves, and Lydia could see the monument to her father.

She saw that there were fresh flowers laid upon it, and her heart ached. “I wish he was here.”

“So do I.” Landon’s voice caught. “I like to hope his spirit is with us though I fear he would be rather cross with me.”

“Father was not that sort of man.” Lydia’s heart ached as she remembered her father’s warm smile, his gentle laughter.

“I would not know. He sent me to boarding school when I was seven.” Landon swallowed. “I always wondered if it is because I looked too like her. If I was just a reminder of his pain.”

Landon had inherited their mother’s soft features and curly hair—it was why he had such boyish looks—but they both had their father’s eyes.

“Father thought it was the best thing for you, Land.” Lydia squeezed his arm, even as her heart ached. “But I wish you had known him too.”

A breeze tickled her cheek, and the bell of the church began to toll. “We should go. The Duke will not want to be kept waiting. Chin up, Land; it will all be okay.”

Landon gave her a weak smile. “I feel like I should be comforting you.”

Lydia made a dismissive motion, even as her own heart twisted. “What are big sisters for? I will be fine.”

It is a choice . The Duke’s voice echoed in her head, and she straightened. She had made this choice. She could do this. She had always done this, sacrificing for those around her. Why should this be any different?

The doors to the church swung open, and they stepped inside. The pews were full of strangers—members of the ton, some local parishioners that Lydia knew by sight if not name—but the pew were the bride’s family should sit was notably empty.

She glanced at Archer’s side of the church and saw a crowd of people there, one of whom was leaning down talking to someone Lydia could not see. So many people are here for him.

Her eyes continued to the front of the church, and she found the Duke.

Her breath caught. His long black hair was pulled back from his face, and his high cheekbones and cold gaze made Lydia think of some kind of avenging angel.

He filled the space, commanding the attention of everyone around him, dwarfing the priest who stood beside him.

“He is so tall,” Lydia murmured as they approached the Duke.

“I expect it will take some getting used to for you,” Landon teased, and Lydia managed not to wince.

She knew her brother was trying to joke to put her at ease, but her height was a particularly sore subject. Not that he knew that. He thought she was proud of it, proud of being taller than every woman she met and as tall as most men. Not the Duke though. He made her feel small.

I hate that some part of me likes that.

They were at the dais, and her brother was handing her to the Duke. His eyes were full of a dark emotion that Lydia could not name. It seemed almost like hunger, but it could not be. “You look radiant, Duchess.”

His voice held an edge that set Lydia’s heart fluttering. She wanted to thank him, but as she peered up into his eyes, all words left her. It was like drowning in pools of honey. The world around her swam.

She felt strong arms around her back, the Duke steadying her against him. His eyes were wide with concern, even as the rest of his face betrayed nothing.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She could feel the warmth of him through her dress. “A little lightheaded, that is all.”

“If you need a break, we can take one.”

“But your Grace—” the priest began, but the Duke cut him off with a look, his voice like a knife made entirely of ice.

“If my wife needs time, you will give it to her, Father.”

The priest swallowed, and Lydia’s chest squeezed. Every hair on her body stood on end, gooseflesh covered her skin. She gently placed a hand on the Duke without thinking. His muscles tensed, and she drew back her hand as though burned.

“I do not want to keep anyone waiting.” Lydia’s eyes met the Duke’s. “I do not want to be a bother.”

“It is no trouble. I will make sure of it. If you need a moment, all you have to do is ask.” The Duke’s voice was soft and low so that only Lydia could hear it.

“I am fine. I just want to get this over with.” She managed to get the words out breathlessly.

“Very well.” The Duke stiffened and released her from his grip, but Lydia had the sense that he was watching for any sign that she might not be okay. “You may continue, Father.”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” the priest’s voice filled the room.

Lydia let it wash over her. How can this stranger seem to read me so easily? Why did it feel like her head was full of cotton whenever she was near him? Perhaps Landon was right, perhaps it was simply the strangeness of looking up at someone.

The Duke’s fingers twitched and then clenched into a fist as Lydia searched for some sign of emotion in his face. She rested a hand on her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. He does not care about me; he just does not want to be embarrassed by my fainting in front of the congregation.

Their eyes met as the priest took Lydia’s hand and placed it in Duke Dashings’. Warmth spread through the tips of her fingers and her body, and a shiver almost ran through her.

“I, Archer Baine, Duke of Dashings, take thee, Lady Lydia Babington to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,” The Duke’s voice was powerful and commanding.

Anything your heart desires, except my own. Lydia did not want his heart, but she could not help but feel a stab of pain as he said ‘cherish’. What would that even feel like? “I, Lady Lydia Babington, take thee, Archer Baine, Duke of Dashings, to my wedded husband…”

Her vow made her think of their conversation. I hope we both get something out of this arrangement. What did she want?

And then he was sliding the delicate gold band onto her finger. She was surprised by his gentleness, the way he held her hand in his, steady but loose enough that she could slip from his grasp. The ring fit her perfectly.

“With this ring, I thee wed, with my body, I thee worship.” As the Duke spoke, Lydia’s eyes could not help but travel across his muscled body.

She remembered the way he had steadied her, and even now, she could feel the intensity of his gaze upon her.

As the ceremony drew to a close, he linked an arm through hers and guided her towards the carriage waiting that would take them to their estate and the small wedding dinner they had decided to have in lieu of a large celebration.

As soon as Lydia felt Archer’s arm slip from hers, she felt like she could breathe again. He sat across from her in the carriage, his gaze lingering on her.

The silence lay thick between them, and Lydia fidgeted. “I wanted to thank you for sorting out everything with the church.”

Archer made a dismissive motion. “It was no trouble.”

“It must have been some trouble. Not everyone can get a special license, and I have grown up with Father Peter—the man can be rather set in his ways.” Lydia canted her head towards Archer.

“It almost sounds like you doubted my abilities.” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

“It is hard not to when you are told something is impossible. I’m rather used to men promising things they cannot deliver.” Lydia shrugged, thinking of the promises her father and brother had both broken, even though they had tried not to.

“I am not that sort of man.” His amber eyes were full of mischief.

Lydia found herself smiling. “What kind of man are you?”

“What do you think?”