Page 13 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
“Good evening,” Lord Tockenham said in a big, boisterous voice. He bowed, and his wife curtseyed, both of them smiling at him eagerly.
“Good evening,” he said, summoning enough manners to greet his hosts, bowing before his mother could nudge him again. Michael gave his hosts an awkward smile, fighting the urge to adjust his spectacles.
He looked them over casually, quickly dismissing his in-laws-to-be as typical ton members, more shallow than interesting, with about as much life as one of their seemingly prized candlesticks. He doubted that he would be able to spend a great deal of time with them, and he planned to have as little to do with them as possible after the wedding - and after obtaining the vase, of course.
He kept his expression pleasant as his mother introduced herself. However, he couldn't help feeling a sense of superiority towards them. Michael belonged to the upper class, and he had little respect for the ‘typical ton,’ as he referred to them. The only thing he saw that would ever remotely interest him about the earl and countess was the earl's collection. He had no intention of getting to know his in-laws-to-be or forming any sort of relationship with them. His bride could do as she pleased, but he doubted he would ever join her, should she choose to visit them.
Now inside the house, Michael was quite excited. All he could think of was getting to see the precious vase that would soon be his. He resigned to having to sit through dinner first, knowing that it was a formality that he had to endure. As he took his seat at the dinner table, he could hardly contain his excitement. His mind was consumed with the thought of the vase, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on it.
He was so distracted by thought of the vase that once again he nearly forgot the main reason he was there. The countess suddenly cleared her throat loudly, gaining his attention and irritation.
“And this is our daughter,” she said, pulling a young lady in a gold dress forward.”
Michael turned to bow at her just as stiffly as he had to the earl and countess. Once introductions were complete, dinner could begin, and then it could end that much earlier. But as he righted himself and looked his intended bride in the face, his breath was caught. Her dress reminded him of a princess. But her face was far prettier than that of any nobility in history, as far as he knew.
Her wheat-colored hair was styled in tight ringlets that shimmered atop her head like a wheat field in the summer sun. Her fair cheeks were slightly flushed, making her oval face look like that of a doll’s. Her full lips were red, as though she had been biting them. He openly stared at her, struggling to get hold of his thoughts.
He lost all track of time as he gazed at her, forgetting that anyone else existed in the room with them. He looked into her eyes, which were a very light brown. They sparkled, and at first Michael thought it was with excitement. But as he smiled slowly at her, absently adjusting his spectacles to get a better look at her, he thought there was mist in them.
Upon looking harder, he noticed that there was something in her eyes that didn’t quite resonate with her stunning beauty. It only took him an instant to recognize what the look in her eyes was. Fear. She looked as terrified as Michael felt- filled with dread. But of what? Of him? Of dinner? Of the wedding? His budding smile wilted a little, and something tugged at his insides. It was a strange thing he was feeling, and he couldn’t quite identify it. Was it sympathy? Did he feel sympathy for his beautiful wife-to-be?
“It’s lovely to meet you, Lord Strawbridge,” Lady Lydia said. Her voice was soft and delicate, and it confirmed the fear he thought he’d seen before. She curtseyed, her cheeks seemingly a bit paler than they had been when he first looked at her.
Still astounded by her beauty, Michael bowed again, carefully holding his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose.
“The pleasure is mine, Lady Lydia,” he said, surprised at how sincere the words were. He wanted to say more, especially if it might take away that edge of fear in Lady Lydia’s eyes. But he felt too overwhelmed with how beautiful she was. He hadn’t been expecting that in the slightest, and he had no idea how to conduct himself.
Michael quickly pulled himself together as the formal introductions were finished. Michael heard his mother strike up a conversation about the weather on the trip there, which was a short one, and he had to stifle an eye-rolling. That was why he hated typical members of the ton. They rarely talked about anything of substance, yet they looked at him as though he was the strange one for wearing glasses. He was even less thrilled when the earl beamed at him.
“We are delighted to have you this evening,” he said.
Michael glanced at him, giving him a tight smile.
“Delighted to be here,” he said.Now, when does dinner begin?
The countess soon interjected, giving Michael a very wide smile. Michael wondered at how hard she seemed to be trying to impress him. She stood beside her daughter, putting an arm around her shoulders. It would have been an affectionate gesture, but Michael noticed how Lady Lydia started. Then, he realized how tightly the countess was gripping her daughter’s arm. Pray tell, what was the matter between those two?
“Dinner should be announced very shortly,” she said, sounding a bit tense. “Would you like for Lydia to play a song for you on the harp while we wait?”
Michael shook his head. He wasn’t much for music, unless he was attending a show. At home, he preferred silence when he was studying his history books or working in his study. But not only that. Lady Lydia already looked terribly uncomfortable. He saw no reason to make her even more so. He glanced at her briefly, confirming in her expression that she hated the idea of performing for him right then.
“No, thank you,” he said. “I’m sure she plays beautifully. But that won’t be necessary. Especially so close to dinner.”
The countess nodded, curtseying again. She seemed satisfied enough with his answer, but also eager to please him. That was odd to Michael, and he began to feel uncomfortable.
“Of course, Lord Strawbridge,” she said, stepping away from her daughter, who visibly relaxed a bit as she did. “As you wish.”
Michael noticed then that, apart from Lady Lydia, who was staring fiercely at the ground, all eyes were on him. He adjusted his cravat, suddenly feeling exposed. He knew he was awkward in social situations. But now that he seemed to be the center of the attention, he was realizing just how much. But why wasn’t anyone making the efforts to give attention to Lady Lydia? Did her parents not notice how uncomfortable she was?
Michael was relieved when the butler announced that dinner was ready. The earl, the countess and his mother slowly started heading for the door. Michael understood it was expected of him to escort his bride-to-be to dinner. He silently offered her his arm, unable to speak when he once again looked at her beautiful face. Fortunately, she seemed happy not to speak, giving him a small smile and a nod as she took his arm. He really hoped that his spectacles weren’t outdated, and that he was imagining a lovelier woman than she truly was.
Michael's focus returned to the vase as they headed to the dining hall. He knew that he would have to make a little more effort to be agreeable to his bride than he had banked on. But the vase was his priority, and he couldn't wait to obtain it. So long as the evening went well, he could be secure in getting the vase. It would be worth the wait. And the evening would soon be over.
Chapter Seven
As she had descended the stairs, Lydia had been filled with dread about meeting the duke. The prospect of spending the rest of her life with a man she barely knew was daunting, to say the least. But as she descended the staircase and caught sight of the duke, she was pleasantly surprised.
He was handsome, and impeccably turned out. Even his unusually long, curly light brown hair was well groomed, and he was clean shaven, exposing his square jaw. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a regal chin. And his blue eyes twinkled with an odd mixture of excitement and fear from behind his spectacles.
