Page 3 of The Perks of being a Duchess
Don’tthink about a bad Shakespearean play.
Willow half expected that same booming voice to call her on her deception.
No one spoke up.
“…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 others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Willow held her breath.
Don’t say no. Don’t say no. Don’t say no.
“I will.” The firm, strong voice of St. Ives echoed.
The air whooshed from her lungs.
“Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband. . .”Yes! Yes! Yes!She repeated over and over until the priest finished, “. . . so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” she rushed to say and was pretty certain her reply had come out as a croak.
“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”
Her father stepped forward and the priest passed her right hand over to the duke in ceremonious custom.
Willow felt her breath catch.
For such an iron-fisted man, his touch was surprisingly gentle. Her hand trembled in his as she stared up into inscrutable eyes while he repeated his vows.I, Ambrose Jonathan Griffin,take theeMissMiddleton as my. . .
Wait a minute! He hadn’t used Holly’s name. Why hadn’t he used her name?
Willow had no time to ponder the question before it was her turn to repeat her vows. “I,Miss,”—she was not about to announce her name loud and clear if he hadn’t—“Middleton,take this man . . .”sickness and health and so forth and so forth and not obey“according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
His hand applied subtle pressure on hers.
Well, Willowhaddeliberately left out theobeypart. Again, she wondered why he hadn’t announced her sister’s name.
Then he slipped the ring onto her finger—the final symbol of the fate she’d chosen—and Willow felt the touch deep in her bones.
And she realized,he knew.
Why else would he announce his name but not hers? Why else would his movements be as stiff as a stick as he slipped the ring onto her finger?
The remainder of the ceremony passed in a daze. Then, too soon—much too soon—his hands reached out to lift the veil. She’d have preferred to pass through the entire ceremony without lifting the veil, to reveal her identity in the carriage. Or after the wedding feast. Or tomorrow. But the duke had other plans.
Because he knew.
He must know.
Tension tightened in her chest as he lifted the layers of lace from her face, and she could not help holding her breath.
The moment of reckoning had arrived.
Their eyes locked.
Time stopped.
All around them, whispers of confusion rocked the church. And for the first time since Willow was introduced to the duke, a kaleidoscope of emotion—affirmation, disbelief and fury—flashed in the depths of his dark gaze.
But besides the subtle clench of his jaw, his composure remained untouched to the average observer.
