Page 21 of Trapped with the Beastly Duke

Alexander.

She had hoped that using his Christian name would help her feel somewhat less intimidated by him, or that perhaps it would spark some emotion within her. However, all it did was remind her of how little she knew the man.

It feels like more pageantry.

“Oh, look at her. Look at her dress. It must have cost a king’s ransom,” a voice said, but Rose did not stop to look at the speaker.

“This whole spectacle is a feast for the eyes. She looks simply radiant,” another added.

“Indeed. Of course, someone like her would thaw the Beast of Emberly’s heart.”

“I hope she can tame his temper, too.” Laughter followed this.

Rose stopped listening to the whispers.

They know nothing. But at least my plan has worked.

She stood taller, mindful of her steps and doing her best to embody an air of regal authority.

She met the Duke’s eyes as she walked towards him. He smiled at her—a quick, short smile, but a smile nonetheless. His smile made the scar on his lip more noticeable, and Rose wondered if it was painful.

The Bishop spoke in his gravelly and surprisingly monotonous voice, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and woman in holy matrimony.”

As the Bishop continued speaking, Rose found herself studying the harsh lines of Alexander’s face. There was atightness in his jaw and a distance in his eyes that made her wonder what he was thinking.

Does he feel as I do? Is he angry at me? At God?

Rose wondered what he would do if she asked him. She could not imagine being so bold, or so foolish.

The Bishop’s voice brought her back to the present as he turned to Alexander. “Alexander Rokesby, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will.”

As Alexander said the words, Rose felt a pang of sadness.

There will be no love or comfort in my marriage.

And then it was her turn to answer the same question.

“I will.” The words felt hollow.

“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” the Bishop asked.

Lord Cotswalts stepped forward, placing Rose’s hands in the hands of the Bishop. Her heart beat faster. She knew what came next. Alexander took her right hand in his, and she was surprised by the warmth of it. The softness and gentleness of his touch were at odds with the coldness she knew lay within him.

Alexander began to speak, his rich baritone filling the hall. “I, Alexander Rokesby, take thee, Rose Pembleton, to be 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, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Rose was struck by the power of his voice. The formality of the words seemed to suit him. Each sentence sounded like the vow that it was, and she found herself convinced of his sincerity.

How can he be such a performer and yet so satisfied to allow a rumor to overcome him?

She was so distracted that she almost forgot her part. Flushing, she began to speak her vows. Her voice shook at first, but it became steadier with each word.

She tried to inject warmth and joy into her words as she said, “For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

“With this ring I thee wed.” Alexander paused, allowing a shiver of anticipation to run through the crowd. “With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

He held her gaze as he slid the gold ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.