The Duke's Reluctant Bride

by Regina James

  Emma shouldn’t be surprised. Her sister’s goal was to marry someone with a title. To her, this was the best thing that could happen to a lady.

  Sophie had no idea what she’d just gotten herself into. “He’s going to resent me,” Emma said.

  Sophie slipped her arm around Emma’s and helped her move forward.

  “Give him an heir and all will be forgiven,” she whispered. She rolled her eyes and ignored her sister’s last statement.

  "You’ve always been the sensible one of the two of us,” Sophie said.

  She stopped before they reached the stairs and grabbed Emma’s arm so Emma paused. She hugged Emma.

  “I’m happy for you because you’re marrying a duke, but I’m going to miss you.”

  Emma returned her hug. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  ***

  Ever since that night when the Duke of Daventry had asked for her hand, her aunt had been busy tending to all necessary preparations in anticipation of her upcoming nuptials.

  And while Emma herself received the occasional instruction to tend to a minor item on her aunt’s list, she was never consulted when it came to the actual event and what it ought to be like.

  Never once did her aunt wonder what flowers she would like to see that day? Or what dish she might care for that morning?

  In a strange way, Emma felt like none of it concerned her, like she had no connection whatsoever to the upcoming wedding.

  After breakfast with her family, she was led upstairs to her room where the maids had already laid out her wedding dress.

  Seeing it, Emma’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away before her aunt could lecture her.

  “You will be a beautiful bride,” Sophie beamed, giving her hand a slight squeeze. “Smile for me, will you?” she whispered. Feeling the corners of her mouth tuck up at her sister’s emphatic words, Emma tried her best.

  “Thank you,” Sophie said.

  Rushing into the room, her aunt took charge immediately, and before Emma knew what was happening, she was looking at herself wearing a wedding dress in the tall mirror brought in from her aunt’s room.

  Busy hands tucked here and smoothed fabric back there. Her hair was drawn up and pinned up in the latest fashion, a few strands, forced into bouncing curls, softening the somewhat rigid structure.

  “Well, you look handsome enough,” her aunt mused, looking her up and down. “Do try to smile. This is a happy occasion after all,” she reminded her. “As unexpected as this is, we could not have hoped for a better match. He is quite amiable, and you are lucky to have caught his eye.”

  Looking at herself in the mirror, Emma saw the slight tremble in her hands as she brushed them down the front of her dress.

  The face that smiled back at her didn’t seem genuine, and she hoped her betrothed would not hold it against her. He could not expect her to go into this marriage with a joyous heart, could he?

  As another thought struck, Emma closed her eyes to maintain her composure. Before she had gone to bed the night before, her aunt had come to her room.

  At first, Emma had been surprised to see her, but then her feelings had quickly changed as her aunt began to speak.

  In but a few, short, clipped sentences, that showed no consideration for Emma’s feelings, she had informed her of what her future husband would expect of her on their wedding night.

  Sinking deeper into her seat, Emma had listened, fighting the deep desire to put her hands over her ears. Terrified beyond compare, she had barely slept a wink.

  The thought of allowing that man into her bed had purged all breath from her body, and the shivers had started anew.

  Chapter Six

  ♠♠♠

  In the carriage, Emma clung to her sister, squeezing her hand as though she would be swept away if she didn’t hold on tightly.

  But Sophie didn’t mind. Gently, she held her hand, here and there stroking her arm and murmuring words of comfort. Pointing out the window, she tried to draw Emma’s attention away from her jittery nerves and to the beautiful flowers growing by the side of the road and across the meadows they passed.

  But Emma could not appreciate what she saw. Her gaze was focused at what awaited her once the carriage came to a standstill. At times she did her best to raise her own spirits, lecturing herself harshly for entertaining all these gloomy thoughts.

  Giving in to her fear and allowing it to surround her, extinguishing every rational thought, every chance of calming herself in order to see things clearly, was a child’s way of dealing with the world she didn’t understand.

  She felt her hands tremble and a sickening sensation settle in her stomach that threatened to expel the meagre breakfast she had eaten that morning.

  In these moments Emma thought she would not be able to get through the day. She thought she’d pass out any second. Strangely enough that thought seemed desirable. Then, at least she would be free from her emotions, at least for the moment.

  Was life only about moments? She wondered. One changing into another, turning your life upside down, defying gravity and setting everything ablaze.

  Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Emma hoped that the moment her heart would finally stop tormenting her would come sooner rather than later. She longed to feel at peace again.

  As the carriage wheels churned to a stop, Emma’s head flew up. Peeking out the window, she found herself at Langley Manor, the estate of her betrothed. Would she soon be forced to leave her friends and family behind? Another shiver ran down her spine.

  A footman opened the door, and Sophie stepped outside. For just a second, Emma felt frozen to the spot and thought that no force on this earth could persuade her to move. But then Emma felt herself move from the carriage and step outside. Although she had only seen Langley Manor from a distance before, Emma drew in a breath at the stately home that was to be hers by the end of the day.

  Grand and magnificent, the manor loomed into the sky before her, and Emma wondered if only the way her own fate was tied to this house made her consider it with unease.

  She couldn’t help but see something dark hiding in the shadows behind the rows upon rows of windows, and even the door opening to the small chapel seemed like a doorway into hell itself.

  “Don’t be absurd!” she called herself to reason once more. “Take a deep breath! Your fears are running away with you again!”

  Blinking back the tears, she took a deep breath, but as much as she tried, her heart would not slow down, hammering in her chest as though she was prey hunted by a fierce predator, desperately seeking to escape.

  Murmuring her "I do" as though some unseen force had taken control of her, Emma watched in utter shock as her new husband turned toward her and lifted her veil.

  As she fought to put a smile on her face, Emma saw no answering expression on his countenance. The breath caught in her throat and the lump in her belly grew heavier and heavier as the Duke of Daventry slowly leaned toward her for the celebratory kiss, sealing their marriage vows.

  “You must go home with him,” her aunt softly told her. “He’s your husband now.”

  Emma looked over at him, and though he knew he should probably do the decent thing and turn his attention elsewhere, he crossed his arms and stared straight at her, refusing to blink.

  “You’ll have to forgive our niece, Your Grace,” her aunt began. “She’s terribly shy.”

  “Oh?” He glanced at her. “She wasn’t terribly shy at the ball when we were outside.”

  Emma gasped at his implication, and while something in the back of his mind warned him it was wrong to say that, at the moment, he didn’t particularly care to listen to his conscience. “Come on,” he told her. “Let’s go home.”

  She slapped his hand, but he tightened his grip.

  She clenched her teeth and stomped her foot on the floor. “No! I demand an annulment.”

  He laughed. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. You just stood there and pr
omised yourself to me for better or worse.”

  He pointed to the spot where they’d been standing by the vicar whose eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, my lady, but there’s no undoing what God has joined together.”

  “But-”

  “Don’t make a scene,” her aunt warned her niece in a gentle tone. “You’re married now. It’s time to act the part.” “Exactly,” Alexander agreed. “Now come along.”

  When she continued to dig her heels into the rug as he attempted to escort her out the door, he picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the church. By the time they were in his carriage, she was crying.

  As soon as the carriage stopped, she bolted out of it and stormed up the steps to the front door.

  “What are you doing?” her husband asked in a mixture of shock and irritation as he stepped out of the carriage.

  “What does it look like? I’m going into my new house,” she snapped before opening the door.

  She ignored the butler and footman and stormed up the first flight of stairs she found. Despite the commotion going on behind her as a confused butler and footman asked Alexander what the problem was, she pressed on.

  Had she not been so angry, she would never have acted in such an unladylike way. But she figured she had nothing to lose since her husband already loathed her and people were already laughing at her expense.

  When she reached the top of the staircase, she pretended she didn’t hear Alexander demand she stop. Instead, she proceeded forward, checking each room along the way to determine where her bedchamber would be.

  She heard his footsteps as he came up the stairs. Startled, she hurried to find the room meant for the lady of the house. To her dismay, he was already closing in on her when she finally found it at the end of the hall. She glanced back in time to see a scowling duke heading her way.

  Refusing to let him intimidate her anymore, she scowled in return before darting into the room. It wasn’t a lady’s room, exactly, but it had a bed, a wardrobe and other items to make her prison comfortable.

  She tried to close and lock the door before he could reach her, but he stuck his foot in the doorway. She tried to kick it out of the way, but it was no use. He was going to come into the room whether she liked it or not.

  Groaning under her breath, she left the door, plopped down on the bed, and crossed her arms.

  “This is my house,” he snapped. “You will not treat my staff that way.”

  She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less what he thought. And really, at the moment, she didn’t care what he thought, good or otherwise.

  “You have no right to be defiant to me. It’s done, and until you give me an heir, we’ll have to bear with one another.”

  She cringed at the thought of him touching her. “I can’t be with you that way.”

  "You can’t deny me my husbandly rights, so whether you like it or not, we’ll be working on getting that heir and we’ll start soon.”

  Before she could voice her protest, he shot her an amusedsmile and left her alone.

  As she looked at herself in the mirror, she hardly recognized the woman she saw. In a way, her old self had disappeared the second her lips had uttered the words "I do." Who was this woman who now looked back at her? A stranger? What would her life be like? As time ticked by, Emma’s mind was tormented by all sorts of questions, and before long, a headache started pounding behind her temples. Placing a wet cloth on her forehead, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. The thought that her husband might object to finding her this way crossed her mind, but was instantly pushed aside by the tiny spark once more igniting within her. If he didn’t like it, he shouldn’t have kept her waiting this long!

  Eyes still closed, Emma heard the grandfather clock in the hall chime. Counting the strokes, she found that it was midnight already. What was he doing? Annoyed, she snuggled closer into the covers, trying to relax, and before long was fast asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  ♠♠♠

  "You look beautiful, my lady,” Bessie said as she brushed Emma’s hair next evening.

  Emma refused to look in the mirror. She didn’t want to see everything Bessie was doing to make her presentable to that big oaf she was now condemned to spend the rest of her life with.

  Her gaze unwittingly went to the bed and she shuddered. She knew it was her duty to be with him tonight, but every time she thought about it, she felt sick to her stomach.

  Bessie finished brushing her hair and reached for the pins on the vanity table.

  “What would you like me to do with your hair?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Then I’ll use one of my favorite styles.”

  Emma glanced at Bessie’s reflection in the mirror. At most times, she had a tendency to forget Bessie was there, but today, she was glad to have her there. Bessie was a familiar presence in her new, and very scary, world.

  She turned her attention to her hands which were folded on her lap and wondered if she dared to talk about anything personal with her. Up to now, she hadn’t. Most of the topics they’d shared had to do with what she might wear or what she might do for the day.

  Bessie had been married, until her husband’s death, so she knew about intimate matters. Bessie slipped some pins into her hair.

  “Your Grace, in some ways you are like the daughter I never had, and I don’t like seeing you this miserable. Is there anything I can do to make things better for you?”

  Touched by her concern, Emma made eye contact with her. Perhaps she could trust her in personal matters.

  Clearing her throat, she managed a weak, “How long does it last?”

  When Bessie’s eyebrows furrowed, she pointed to the bed, her cheeks flushed from being so bold.

  Understanding lit up Bessie's eyes. “Oh! Of course. I should have known that’s been troubling you.”

  She offered a kind smile and patted her shoulder affectionately.

  “I can’t say for sure. Some gentlemen last longer than others, but I’d say no more than a couple minutes once he’s…involved…in the process. You shouldn’t worry so much about it. I know you can’t help but feel uncertain about the whole thing, but it’s a very natural process and one that brings pleasure.”

  Bessie finished pinning her hair back and motioned to the mirror. “What do you think, Your Grace?”

  I think I’m going to throw up, she thought as she glanced one more time at the bed. Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, she turned her attention to the mirror and studied her reflection. She looked like a virgin all dolled up so she could be sacrificed on an altar.

  “You don’t seem pleased,” Bessie softly commented, a worried tone in her voice.

  Emma sighed and turned away from the mirror. “You did a wonderful job. I don’t feel up to seeing him, that’s all.”

  “It’s just nerves, Your Grace. Truly, there’s nothing to it. All married ladies go through it.”

  Emma knew Bessie meant well, but nothing she could say would ease the sickening knot that tightened in her gut. This just might be the worst night of her life.

  Bessie smiled and helped her up from the chair. Whether or not Emma wanted to be in this marriage wasn’t up for debate. Now it was a matter of fulfilling her duty and giving her husband an heir.

  ***

  While Bessie helped her choose appropriate accessories, Bessie gave her a quick rundown of who would be at the ball. By the end of her overview, Emma’s head swam. She could not remember all those names and titles. How was she to get along?

  When she finally descended the grand marble staircase leading down to the entrance hall, Emma felt her every inch of her tremble, afraid she’d lose her footing and land head-first at her husband’s feet.

  Standing by the front doors, he looked up as her footsteps echoed down the stairs ahead of her. Dressed in a simple, yet elegant suit, his black hair combed back, her husband looked the picture of a gentleman. Taking a deep breath, Emma approached him, eyes cast down and to
ok his offered arm.

  She was breath-taking! Alexander thought. The crimson red dress perfectly complemented her auburn hair, accentuating her pale skin and slim figure. The stark contrasts made her glow, vibrant with colour.

  A rosy shine on her cheeks spoke of excitement or jittery nerves; he could not tell. Her eyes glistened in the dark, hidden under thick cast-down lashes.

  Nervously, she bit her lower lip, brushing a hand down the soft fabric of her dress. He could see the concern about her appearance plainly on her face. Then she looked up and for a moment met his gaze, before returning it to the stairs under her feet.

  Alexander barely managed to get his own features back in check before they’d give him away. He noticed his pulse had sped up, and although it returned to a more normal rhythm, he could still feel it pulsate against the tight fit of his collar.

  For a moment his eyes turned inward. Bridget had been beautiful in a more obvious way. Her golden hair and glowing blue eyes had enchanted anyone who ever lay eyes on her. She had been like the sun, drawing everyone near, necessary to everyone’s survival.

  Emma was different. Again he cast a careful glance in her direction as she approached and hesitantly slipped her arm through his.

  As he led her out the door and to the waiting carriage, their feet crunching in the snow, he felt her tremble by his side. Again he wondered if it was the cold or her nerves.

  Helping her into the carriage, he took a seat across from her. Avoiding his eyes, she kept her head down or faced out the window as the carriage slowly turned down the road. Pretending not to look at her either, Alexander still felt her presence like a thick blanket wrapped around him.

  Too wrapped up in his own mind, Alexander did not notice the silence that hung between them. Every now and then he thought he saw her glance in his direction, but when he turned to look, her eyes were once again focused on the landscape passing by their window.

  Before long, they reached Lady Montgomery’s estate, seeing the many lights a mile off, glistening like stars in the darkening night. Cheerful laughter met their ears as the carriage came to a stop, and a footman opened the door.