Page 27 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
“Pardon me, miss,” the girl said with a bow. “I was sent to inform you that the carriage is ready to take you to the chapel for the wedding.”
Joan inhaled sharply, well aware this time more than ever that this was one among the very few chances she would have to reconsider things properly. Not necessarily in line with the things her cousin has said, but rather because of the fears that had been steadily growing within her ever since she crossed paths with her husband-to-be.
She looked down at Sophia and drew strength from her daughter’s smile.
“All right. We will be down shortly.”
She really had no other choice, because it was beyond her to offer the best care to her daughter. At least this way, Sophia will be provided for by her own father, as opposed to another strange man who would view her as an obstacle.
Holding her daughter’s hand, she marched forth, towards the beginning of her new life.
Joan’s arrival at the chapel felt as though she was walking right into a nightmare.
She never imagined this — a wedding day with a groom, a man she was willing to rely on and trust. This unorthodox situation only further highlighted her feelings for the Duke, the confusion she felt about the way her body couldn’t help but react to him and his touch, with the underlying understanding that it would be too dangerous to believe his words.
But as she watched him smile at Sophia as the little girl walked down the aisle with a small basket of flowers that had been prepared for her, she knew she was willing to endure all she had to, for her daughter’s sake.
The Duke stood tall in the aisle, his eyes trained on her after he had watched Sophia settle comfortably in the pews. His gaze set her cheeks aflame, and she felt her feet lead her closer and closer to him, until she was standing by his side, before the vicar.
Graham’s gaze raked over her body, and he hummed softly, nodding at her vicar to carry on with the ceremony. Just as the officiant parted his lips to speak, the Duke leaned down, his breath hot against Joan’s neck as he whispered,
“Thank you for changing your mind. I’ll ensure you don’t regret it.”
Joan blinked, stunned by the earnest tone of his voice, wondering why he would bother to reassure her.
This man confused her to no end, seemingly doing what he could to make it seem as though… he wanted her. And she couldn’t fathom such a notion, unable to understand even the possibility of it.
The vicar began his recitals for the ceremony, and Joan was lost on the details of it rather quickly, barely managing to pay enough attention to say her vows. All she knew and felt was the steady grip of the Duke’s rough hand on hers. His touch stayed long after the ceremony had ended, while they bid a disgruntled and disappointed Georgina goodbye, even throughout the journey back to his estate.
Joan half expected that with his desperation to marry her, he would be eager to claim her as soon as he possibly could. But she was surprised at his calm mannerisms upon their arrival at the Rutledge estate.
Carefully, he lifted Sophia out of the carriage and handed her over to Penelope, who carried her away with promises of a biscuit if she behaved during her bath. And then Graham helped Joan disembark, draping her hand over his arm before he led her into the house.
Just past the foyer, the staff had assembled, their postures expectant and somewhat on edge.
Graham cleared his throat, and their gazes sharpened, as though they were viewing Joan in a new light.
“This is my wife. Moving forward, she is to be treated with the utmost care and respect, as the new Duchess of Rutledge. I expect that the same honor that has been shown to me is also given to her on all counts,” he stated sternly.
“Yes, Your Grace,” they chorused like a choir.
The Duke seemed satisfied because he gently urged Joan closer, his touch a reassuring, slight pressure on the small of her back that was eating away at her thoughts.
“This is Mr Williams, the butler of the estate. Most of the time, he’s the only one who has an idea about my whereabouts,” Graham said, gesturing to a man who looked almost as tall as himself, his silver hair cut rather short, which made him look even neater than he already appeared.
Next to the butler was a middle-aged woman who curtsied when the Duke’s gaze fell upon her, gazing up at Joan with a small smile.
“This is Mrs. Martha Wintersdown, the housekeeper of the estate. She knows much more about the estate than I would ever hope to, so whatever you need, she will be able to help guide you in some way. All your needs are to be voiced to her whenever you cannot find me,” the Duke stated, nodding at the woman politely.
There was a man who stood after a handful of maids, his expression open and kind, and the Duke approached him, and shortly, she learned that he was the cook.
“Robert. His dishes are quite superb, rivalled only by my mother’s. Whatever you desire — whatever Sophia likes, tell him and he will somehow manage to prepare it for you in record time,” Graham told her, his tone still as soft as it was when he had begun to make the introductions.
As Joan stood in front of them, she thought it would be good to say something, nervously clearing her throat and speaking after a nod from Graham.
“It — it is lovely to meet you all. I look forward to living with you as your duchess. I hope I will be able to bring you honor as the Duke has,” she said uncertainly.
It seemed to suffice, because their expressions softened a tad, and they bowed and curtsied to her.
