Page 3 of A Bride for the Beastly Duke
Her mother, Martha, reached out and squeezed her hand. “You will not regret this, I promise. In spite of his… hideous looks, the Duke is known to be an honorable man. He was a soldier before he inherited the dukedom, I am given to understand. And at least we know what he will expect from you.”
Ava blinked a few times to stem the tears that wanted to flow from her eyes. She had long accepted her fate, but some days, she could not help but rail internally. All she had ever wanted was to have a loving family and be happy. But because of her eagerness to please and her naiveté, now she had to pay for that desire by selling herself off to the most palatable bidder — palatable, that was, to her mother.
Suddenly she wanted to shoot to her feet and announce she would not marry this man. That she would wait in the hope that a man who loved her was waiting out there somewhere. As foolish as she knew that notion was, her body tensed in readiness to get to her feet.
But then Margaret sniffed, glaring at their mother. “What an awful thing to say, mother.”
And Ava relaxed back into her seat, remembering why she had to do this. “Leave it, Margaret. It does not matter. Mother is right. It really is the best I can hope for in my situation.”
Margaret looked like she wanted to argue.
“I am five and twenty, sister. I am on the shelf with an illegitimate child. It is pure luck that I received this offer. So yes, I do have to say yes, or we shallallsink into ignominy.”
Margaret opened her mouth, likely to protest, but nothing came out. Ava nodded decisively. “Good then. That is settled.”
She got up without another word and left the room, not wanting to speak about it anymore and feeling tears a bit too close to the surface. She needed to go off somewhere and cry. Bypassing her chambers, she climbed the stairs to the attic which had a large window through which she had an unhindered view of the sky. It was her favorite haunt because no one came up here except herself.
The attic would be dusty if she did not take some time each day to clean and mop and dust the place. It was something to do with the long, lonely hours while the rest of her family went about their business — receiving guests or visiting with others. Living in the country, it should have been easier for her to be in society, but even the ordinary people looked askance at her, a noblewoman without a purpose and with a scandal on her back.
Worse than a spinster or a whore, she was an unwed mother.
She let the tears fall unhindered, trying to come to terms with her reality.
You are one of the fortunate ones,she reminded herself. She had heard of ladies in her situation who were abandoned by their families and forced to make a life for themselves however theycould. She, at least, still had a home, and her family had not disowned her.
“When will I get used to this pain? When will it stop hurting?”
The stars winked at her and gave her no reply.
Her mother was sitting on her bed when she woke up the next morning, just staring out of the open windows. Ava sat up, rubbing her eyes in puzzlement. “Mother? What is wrong?”
Martha kept looking out of the window and sighed deeply. “I know you think that everything is bleak and hopeless at the moment—that you are forced into a loveless marriage and will never be happy.” She turned to look Ava in the eye. “But let me tell you something, my love. Your father and I were not a love match. I, too, had a large dowry and more importantly, a piece of land that William needed to control for his enterprises. We started out with nothing between us but respect. But now, here we are.”
Ava blinked at her mother in confusion. “Why are you telling me this, Mother?”
“Because I want to give you hope. Give your marriage your all, and you will see—it will be a good one.”
Ava nodded, simply because she did not want to argue with her mother. “All right, thank you.”
Martha got to her feet with a nod. “All right then. The modiste will come by in an hour to measure you for your wedding gown. Please be ready.”
Ava nodded again, “Of course, Mother.”
Chapter Three
What will she think of me?
Despite his words to his aunt, Edward found that he was very nervous on the morning of his wedding. He stared at his face in the mirror for a long time. Aside from the hideous burns that mottled the skin on the left side of his face, he could still see the handsome man he used to be. He had grown his black hair down to his shoulders in an effort to cover most of the scars. His brilliant blue eyes shimmered, drawing the eye with their diamond-hard, cold demeanor.
He had been known to terrify people with just a look… and that was before his accident.
He tried not to care about how people looked at him—the disgust, the horror, the cowering away in fear—but he could not quite manage it. Hedidcare.
He could not help but recall the horror on his erstwhile fiancée’s face—the recoiling horror as he had presented himself to her after he recovered from his accident. He had been worried about her, wondering why she had not managed to visit him in his recuperation.
“They said you looked like a monster,” she screamed. “They were not lying.”
Edward had a moment to wonder who ‘they’ were before he turned and left her manor house as fast as he could. He did not think he could bear a repeat of that on his wedding day.
