Page 66 of His Ruined Duchess

Her maids helped her get dressed as usual—a process that took much longer than a typical day, however. This was not simply another Sunday after all. She was going to the church this morning to get married, and getting her into the chosen gown and hairstyle was a feat that took several hours.

Please let this ceremony proceed quickly.

Exhaustion dogged Selina at every turn. She had not slept a wink when she had gone back inside after seeing Hugh. The taste of his lips had lingered on hers the entire evening, and even now,she felt the urge to brush her fingers over her lips, mimicking the haunting feeling of his caress.

“I will secure your stays, Your Grace.” Selina fought back the need to jump at her maid’s words and nodded, not looking back at the woman who stood behind her. Her mind was too caught up in wandering, thinking back to last night and what she had said to Hugh. She’d waited awake such a long time in her room to see if he might come after her.

He did not.

Across the room, her handmade lace veil hung over her vanity mirror. She eyed it stoically, knowing that it would shield her face a bit for a time. Perhaps it would hide the downcast countenance that would not leave her.

Selina also knew that she was not to look in the mirror just before she left for the church as it was considered bad luck. A large part of her wished to do just that, to stare at her mournful expression and let fate work its ill will.

Still, there were worse things than not being loved by your husband, and Selina would not risk those despite her disbelief in superstition.

“Oof.” The maid yanked on the laces of the stays. Bridget had instructed each maid and attendant that Selina was to look perfect today, and they were all terrified to disappoint her.

Strange considering the woman had subtly suggested I not marry.

Still, Selina went through the motions of dressing with her maids as they covered her in layer after layer of fabric. The embellished bustle would lift the bottom of her gown, and the satin sheen of her dress was colored a dusky white. She was a widow, after all, assumed to be no longer a virgin. And while that was indeed the case now, no one would know it had only been accomplished the night before last.

Memories of her time with Hugh would not leave her be. She could feel his touch, taste his kiss, and all the want inside her was at odds with her need to uphold her promise, her duty to her family and to Magnus.

“Please lift your arms, Your Grace.”

Selina did as requested, holding them up so that her wedding gown could be placed over her head and guided down her body. The fabric had been detailed with exquisite embroidery, and she knew that her mother had spent a fortune on it—an expense she should not have incurred.

She truly is a maddening woman. Does she wish for me to go through with this or not? Or is she simply playing the role as I am?

That was a possibility Selina had not considered much prior to her conversation with her mother in the hall. She had been so open about her fear that her children would not be caredfor, able to live a good life, and Selina could see now how her overbearing nature had been a reflex associated with that anxiety.

And she had gone out of her way to secure the gown.

It was hardly possible to deny how gorgeous the dress was. Silver lame sat atop the off-white slip, the embroidery that of flowers and vines. The body and sleeves were finely cut and decorated similarly with point Brussels lace. It was fastened at the front with a lovely floral ornament, and her mother had commented on how regal it looked, mimicking the style of the royals.

Me a royal? Can you imagine?

The sheath was secured around her, and Selina was given satin flats to wear beneath. Once dressed, the maids proceeded to pile her long black locks on top of her head. They clipped and pinned the curls in intricate patterns, decorating the updo with beaded adornments and samplings of flowers that were similarly used in the small bouquet she would carry through the church.

During the height of the Season, in the best possible weather, Selina was being made up to look absolutely stunning. Her attire and presentation evoked a shimmering fairy queen, the picture of Spring’s beauty.

Selina simply stared at herself in the mirror, however, silently begging for the tears to remain in her eyes.

It feels as though I were attending a funeral… my own perhaps.

A sniffle escaped her, and Selina shook herself, blinking rapidly to rid herself of the embarrassing display. One of her maids circled to the front of her, offering a kind smile.

“Are you quite well, Your Grace? Do you require a?—”

“I am indeed well. No need to fret. It is only a tickle from the hazy spring air. Are we finished? We will be required at the church shortly.”

The attendant dropped any further questioning, smiling bigger as she walked over to the bedroom mirror and took down the veil. Selina had admittedly nearly forgotten about the item. A shame that would have been, considering how useful it would be in providing a layer between her and the crowd gathered for the wedding.

Standing behind her, the maid raised the veil high, lowering it onto Selina’s head. She watched in the mirror as the fabric came down around her, the thin waves of material smoothing over her face. Behind the finery, Selina could see herself draped in the fabric of a death shroud, and she mentally cursed at herself for being so dramatic.

Enough Selina. He does not want you. This is your only way forward. Magnus is kind, and he will be a fine enough husband.

The thoughts barely helped Selina to concentrate. The pain lancing through her ribs was blistering, the distraction it caused making her carry on like a ghost. Still, she was promptly turned from the mirror, a slim glove settled over her hand by her maid, reminding her that she ought not to look at it again. The matching glove would be placed just before she walked into the church and met her groom at the top of the aisle.

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