Page 95 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
She took the handkerchief from his hand, and walked away to dowse it in brandy.
‘Sit,’ she ordered when she turned back.
He did as he was told. How could he not even have considered she might be with child? Because he was spoilt, arrogant and selfish. She was right. He did not deserve her. But she was to be his duchess. She would not find it easy. She would not have a clue how to go on. She would need his support. He could not be selfish any more.
‘He has a valet and a house full of footmen to wash his lip,’ Phillip grumbled.
Her gaze lifted to John’s as she finished, and she blushed. His heart ached for her and he stood, still holding her gaze. ‘I suppose I ought to change. You will not wish to marry a man with blood all over him.’
She did not reply. Of course, she did not want to marry him at all.
As he left the room, he heard Phillip say, ‘You should have told me.’
He glanced back to see Phillip embrace her.
33
Nobody said a word during the carriage journey back to town.
John longed to touch her, even just to take her hand. She had said she no longer loved him earlier. He hoped it was not true. He had been all the things he despised to her though. He could hardly blame her if she did not.
Phillip suggested they use a church in Cheapside. He said the vicar there could be trusted to keep the marriage secret. How he knew that, John did not ask.
John took Katherine’s hand when they alighted, and held it tightly as they stood outside, leaving Phillip to make the arrangements. When the vicar came to greet them he was accompanied by his housekeeper, who would be their second witness. ‘Have you a special licence?’
John nodded and retrieved it with his free hand, not letting go of Katherine’s.
‘Thank you. Come this way.’
They were led into the church.
John’s heart began to pound as the enormity of what they were doing struck him. This was a lifelong commitment and he would be asking much of her – to rise from the adopted daughter of a squire to a duchess.
Katherine’s fingers curled about John’s hand as they stood before the altar, accepting the reassurance of his strong grip. She had not had the courage to look at him, though. She felt like weeping – on her wedding day. She was scared. He did not believe he loved her and she had no idea how to live in his world.
When she finally looked at John, he was watching the vicar. She stood on the side of his swollen lip, and his cheek had a lump which was dark purple. The vicar must think this a forced match. But John had come to her before he knew about the child. At least she knew his offer was genuine.
If he had not come, she would have been married in a church full of people, to Richard, with her father there as well as Phillip. Her father did not even know she was marrying John… He would be wondering where she was.
‘Katherine Spencer, I…’ John’s ducal voice echoed about the church as he looked down at her, repeating the vicar’s words, his hand holding hers more tightly, ‘…in sickness and in health…’
Promises. Promises.
She met his gaze but did not trust him. He was no longer John Harding, the youth she had known well. He spoke as an orator, announcing his words with authority. This was the façade behind which he hid the young man he was. But which one was real? The man who had shown all those feelings at her father’s house, or this man?
The other, her heart told her. She must remember even in this man he was there, beneath. But she was afraid of the duke who had asked her to be his mistress, not his wife.
‘Now, Miss Spencer, say after me…’ It was her turn to make promises. He had promised to honour her, she had to say she would obey him.
When it came to exchanging a ring, John did not have one, and so he took a gold signet ring from his small finger.
I am going to be his Duchess.How?This Cinderella ending did not feel like a fairy tale. It felt like a nightmare.
‘I now pronounce you man and wife.’
John’s hands rested on her shoulders and he kissed her temple. Then he reached for his handkerchief because his lip had split open and wiped the blood away before taking her hand again. He had become the duke, she knew because now his hold was impersonal.
He signed the marriage register, writing John Harding, with no title. She wondered if the vicar even knew who John really was.
