Page 20 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
Thomas nodded, draining his brandy, before nodding to the footman to bring him another. Kenneth had stirred up old feelings that he preferred to suppress. And even though he knew his friend was teasing him, he didn’t like the inference that he wouldn’t be able to control himself around Catherine once they were married.
His jaw hardened again. Yes, she was very beautiful. She was spirited, charming, and clever. But he could protect himself. Hemustprotect himself.
He must guard his heart above everything else, for he knew, through bitter experience, that it was the only thing in life that could never be recovered.
He felt a pang of unease. Would he have been better off settling for one of the wide-eyed simpletons his grandmother had pushed at him after all? Had he bitten off more than he could chew, as Kenneth was suggesting, in marring Miss Catherine Audley?
“Shall we indulge in some drinking games?” Kenneth asked suddenly, grinning from ear to ear. “To celebrate the fact that the eternal bachelor is falling from his perch?”
Thomas laughed. “Why not?”
Another round of brandy was procured. Thomas sank back in his chair, knowing it was probably going to turn into a dissolute night. But if it managed to take his mind off his impending marriage, that would be a good thing. However, he doubted very much it could take his mind off his delectable bride. That would be asking too much, indeed.
Chapter Ten
“You look beautiful, Cathy,” Oliver whispered, gazing down at his sister as they stood at the bottom of the aisle. His eyes were soft.
Catherine smiled at her brother nervously before her eyes swept over the church. There was only a smattering of people in attendance—the wedding had been arranged in such haste that she supposed most people hadn’t been able to make it. And she was grateful for it. It made walking down that long aisle towards the Duke of Newden much easier to accomplish.
Her stomach lurched. He was standing at the altar, looking very tall and commanding in a black jacket and white britches. His dark hair was swept off his face. He was talking quietly with another tall man who she recognized as the Duke of Dunford. He hadn’t seen her yet.
“I feel like a trussed-up chicken,” Catherine hissed, wriggling uncomfortably. “My stays are so tight that I can barely breathe.”
Oliver suppressed a laugh. “I do not suppose they will remain laced for so very long,” he quipped in a low voice. “Considering the Duke’s, ahem, tendencies, they will be off before the day is over, Cathy.”
Catherine blushed fiercely. Her nerves were like a pit of writhing snakes in her stomach. Oliver didn’t know that her marriage was going to be one of convenience. He didn’t know that there wasn’t going to be a traditional wedding night and that she was going to wake up a maiden tomorrow, the same as ever.
I will make sure of it. If the Duke tries anything, I shall reject him firmly. But I am sure he will not—he wants a marriage of convenience as much as I do.
“Are you ready?” Beatrice was at her side, handing Catherine her bouquet. “We should start.”
Catherine nodded, taking a deep breath. She was so nervous that she couldn’t even give her best friend a reassuring smile.
The organ started, blaring into the silence, echoing around the church. Everyone in the church turned and stared as they started slowly walking down the aisle. Every small, mincing step felt like a mile.
What am I doing? How could I have agreed to marry a complete stranger? How can I make sure that he will abide by our terms?
Her eyes flicked to her brother. He was the reason that she was doing this against her will and better judgment, and he wasn’t even aware of it. Would Oliver be appalled if he knew the sacrifice she was making for him?
A cold sweat broke out over her entire body, even though it was hot in the church. There were huge arrangements of flowers in vases everywhere, filling the church with a heady perfume. Catherine’s head was almost going to burst. The scent was overwhelming.
She was almost there. Suddenly, she became conscious of the Duke gazing at her. His eyes were fixed on her. They were blazing as they swept over her, taking in every small detail, from the orange blossom woven through her dark hair to the creamy lace and silk gown that had cost a small fortune to the expensive cream slippers on her feet.
I am selling myself. I am just the same as a horse that has been bought at an auction. How could I have done this when I always swore I would never marry?
She blushed again. The naked admiration and desire in his eyes as he beheld her hit her like a slap across the face. Instinctively, she felt her body react to it. Her skin prickled. It was alarming. She tried to ignore it, but it was hard. So hard.
She was so disconcerted that she stumbled slightly on the step. The Duke rushed forward.
“I will take it from here, old chap,” he said in a low voice to Oliver. “You can step aside.”
Oliver nodded, letting the Duke take her arm, and stepped back. Catherine felt her heart skip a beat at the contact. For a moment, the Duke just gazed down at her, his blue green eyes narrowed.
“You are exquisite,” he whispered in a husky voice. “A vision. I feel as if your image is seared in my brain.”
Catherine’s jaw dropped. Two spots of color bloomed in her cheeks. Her heart was racing.
“You do not need to say that,” she whispered stiffly. “I do not require it.”
