Page 14 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
Mortification swept over Theresa when she realized what she had done. The direction her thoughts had taken. If she had been at the nunnery, Sister Mary would have flogged her where she stood for the sinfulness of her thoughts.
But none of that seemed to matter—not to the cheering guests. Definitely not to her parents, who looked at her now with a mixture of relief and approval.
And just like that, she had become a duchess.
Her new husband took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow as he led her out of the church to raucous cheering.
Theresa could feel her cheeks burning. Her eyes dropped to the floor, suddenly feeling shy. She could see her mother delicately wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.
The Marchioness smiled sadly at Theresa, her lips pale. Beside her, the Marquess stood somberly. A silent statue carved out of some emotion she could not decipher.
“My dear wife.”
Her gaze flicked up to her husband. Half of his face was covered by a mask. The other half, bare to her scrutiny, was earth-shatteringly handsome.
“Be careful not to be drawn to physical appearances,” Sister Edith had once advised her. “Fallen angels walk amongst us as surely as you see me before you, child. Their forms are more luminous than any of human flesh.”
If fallen angels were indeed real, as Sister Edith had told her, then it was quite possible that the man before her was one. Or at least descended from that divine yet exiled lineage.
His palm brushed her cheek in the gentlest of caresses, and she shivered. Even his very touch spoke of temptation!
“Have we, by any chance, met before?” He asked her softly.
A cold chill ran down Theresa’s spine, and her eyes widened in panic. She had been caught!
“I… I am not who you think I am, Your Grace,” she mumbled.
His eyebrow rose slowly. Almost mockingly. “Oh?”
She nodded despondently. “My name is Theresa, and up until yesterday, I lived in a nunnery called the Congregation of St. Agatha.”
Her throat tightened as she continued, “I-I know that my sister was supposed to marry you, but I cannot let this farce go on. You have been tricked, Your Grace. I-I am not the woman you intended to marry.”
His gaze swept over her, light as a lover’s touch. Distant as the coldest star.
“There is no trick. I needed a bride.” He shrugged. “And here you are. It does not matter who appears at the altar today.”
“B-but… did you not hear a word of what I said?” She told him in exasperation. “I am not a fine lady—never have been in my entire life! I did not even know my parents werenoblesuntil yesterday.”
Although what they did was certainly not very noble. Or even remotely honest. They had lied to the man, substituting his bride with her more awkward sister.
The Duke should be incensed. Angry. Furious. Instead, he looked at her as if he truly did not care.
“And like I said, my dear, I do not care,” he said simply. “As for not being a fine lady, as you put it, I can teach you if you will apply yourself to learning. I have no doubt we can coexist peacefully—as long as you follow my rules, of course.”
Rules.
Theresa shuddered at the word.
Rules here, rules there, ruleseverywhere. She had spent her life boxed in and restricted by the rules of the nunnery. If she werebeing honest, she had no desire whatsoever to return to more of the same.
“What rules?” She asked hesitantly.
It cannot be as bad as the nunnery.Mother did not seem to approve of the methods of discipline at the nunnery. Maybe they will not use the stick on me here.
Or perhaps they had other means of enforcing their rules.
The Duke’s lips pressed together into a grim line. “If you must know now, we’re to lead separate lives.”
