Page 10 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
“It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” she said instead, feeling the weight of it around her neck as surely as if it had been a noose. She smiled and added jokingly, “With all the jewels I am wearing, one would think I am the one getting married!”
The Marchioness shook her head, her laughter a little shaky. “Naturally, I have made preparations for your sister as well. What you are wearing today is only befitting the daughter of the Marquess of Wyndham.”
She motioned for Theresa to take off her nightgown so that she might help her into the dress that had been laid out for her—a piece of deep green silk that seemed to flow like water through her fingers.
No sooner had Theresa shrugged off her nightgown than she heard a horrified gasp behind her. She turned around and found her mother staring at her back, her eyes wide in horror.
“Y-Your back!” The Marchioness gasped. “W-What are…?”
Theresa bit her lower lip as she felt shaky fingers trace the raised scars on her skin. “Discipline,” she said simply.
The Marchioness closed her eyes. “Was your life at the nunnery so horrible?”
Theresa shook her head. “No, not all of them. There were some who were very kind to me.”
“The nun who wept that day we came to take you home?”
Theresa nodded. “Sister Edith was like a mother to me.” She looked up at the mirror to see her mother’s distraught face. “I am sorry.”
“No, no… it is not something you have to apologize for.” The Marchioness shook her head, her smile wavering as she helped her into the dress.
Theresa barely felt her fingers on her back as she buttoned up the dress from behind.
The Marchioness let out a shaky breath and gave another unsteady smile. “There now. You are ready.”
Finally!
Theresa beamed at her in relief. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she let out a stunned gasp.
The young lady who stared back at her was almost unrecognizable.
Just yesterday, she had been garbed in rough wool, her hair knotted haphazardly, wild from hours of riding. Now, she was bedecked from head to toe in glittering jewels. Even the satin slippers on her feet were studded with crystal beads.
I certainly hope I need not attend a great many weddings after this.
She struggled to keep her head upright, what with the weight of all the jewels she now carried.
The degree of extravagance left her absolutely stupefied.
The preparations had lasted all of four hours, and she was not even the bride!
Why are they looking at me like that?
Theresa squirmed as heads turned and eyes swiveled to the entrance as soon as she and her mother arrived. With the church filled to the rafters, there were easily a hundred guests in attendance.
“There you are! We have been waiting for you!” A loud voice boomed from amongst the crowd.
Theresa squinted as a tall man with dark brown hair strode toward them with a smile that spoke of practiced ease. As if nothing could ever faze him.
“My dear, this is your father,” the Marchioness whispered to her.
“Oh. Good morning, Father,” Theresa greeted with a nervous smile.
“Well, don’t just stand there gawking,” the Marquess told them briskly. “The guests have been waiting for almost an hour!”
The Marchioness’s smile faltered. “You have to forgive us. I had to make sure that Theresa looked lovely for the…”
She was left unable to finish her sentence, for her husband had already looped Theresa’s right arm around his and proceeded to march them down the aisle as the music began to play.
