Page 26 of The Penitent Duke
Her gut twisted sharply and she blinked back a rush of hot tears, seeing now the path that laid itself before her feet. A path she had no choice but to walk.
“You must forgive this impropriety, Lord Westlake,” she began, her voice wobbling as she looked to the gentleman rather than to the other two ladies, both of whom were now whispering behind their hands. “The Duke of Strathmore has just asked me to marry him.”
The gasps from all three – the two ladies and Lord Westlake – made Rosalind close her eyes, feeling herself trembling as she let out a longbreath, curling her hands into tight fists as she forced the next words out. “And I have accepted him.”
Chapter Eleven
I am betrothed.
Lucian watched as his cousin made her vows, relieved that the wedding ceremony was almost at an end so that he might then make his escape and hide away from the prying eyes of theton.The fact that he too would soon be standing at the front of a church and makinghiswedding vows was something he could not, as yet, fully accept. It had been an astonishing, overwhelming moment when Lady Rosalind had announced she had accepted his hand in marriage and since then, Lucian had endured nothing but glances and outright questions and some rather rude demands from other members of society, each person clearly astonished at his news to wed the lady. Lady Rosalind had a good deal to endure also but, over the last few days, she had said less and less and though they had been out in society together, she had barely spoken even a word to him.
Lucian was not sure he liked that. What he knew of Lady Rosalind was that she was a determined, forthright young lady and that, now, all of a sudden, she was no longer that sort of creature. After all of his complaints, Lucian was quite sure that he ought to be grateful for such a thing but there was a niggle in his heart that would not fade. Whenever he looked at her, there was a dullness in her eyes rather than sparkle and he did not like that.
Though I am the cause of it.
“What a lovely service.”
Glancing to his right, Lucian frowned at Lord Radcliffe. “You do not even know my cousin.”
“That is not true! I know her and her family somewhat, though I am better acquainted with her husband, of course.” His eyes narrowed just a little. “Are you thinking of your own marriage?”
“No.” Lucian scowled. “I would prefer not to think of it, truth be told.”
“But you must have set a date, have you not?” Lord Radcliffe persisted, irritating Lucian with his questions. “Have you spoken to her father?”
Lucian cleared his throat and looked away, feeling a little uncomfortable. “I have briefly spoken with Lord Fairmont and we have decided not to set a date as yet. Not until Lady Rosalind is ready.” That had been an awkward conversation, for Lord Fairmont had not been pleased with the situation but had also not been angry or upset either. Though hehad not spoken of it directly, it was clear to Lucian that Lady Rosalind was Lord Fairmont’s prime concern and that she was in a somewhat sorrowful frame of mind. That had brought Lucian a stab of guilt though he had quickly ignored it, just as he always did. He had enough guilt to bear already and adding to it was not something he desired to do.
“Strathmore?”
Realizing that he had become lost in thought, Lucian swallowed and then forced a smile. “My apologies. What were you saying?”
Lord Radcliffe smiled. “I was asking if you planned on stepping out of the pew at any point, for I think the rest of the guests are leaving.”
Looking all around, Lucian flushed with embarrassment as he hurried to his feet, having not realized that he was one of the only few left in the church.
“No doubt you have been thinking of your own wedding.” An older lady, one that Lucian did not recognize though she did seem to speak with an air of familiarity, grasped his arm. “Lady Rosalind is an excellent creature. I do hope that you will treat her well, Your Grace. She has endured quite enough already.”
Disliking being told what he ought – or ought not – to do, Lucian made to respond sharply but a warning look from Lord Radcliffe stopped him. Instead, he bit back his initial answer and merely nodded. “Of course.”
“Good.” The older lady released his arm. “Her character is beyond compare, if you ask me. I do hope she will not be wasted on you.”
“I would quite agree with that, Your Grace.”
Glancing behind him, Lucian’s eyebrows lifted at the sight of Lady Eleanor. “Lady Eleanor, I did not know that you would be in attendance.”
She smiled but it held no warmth. “It seems that my family are vaguely connected with the groom’s family, though I confess that our invitation was somewhat unexpected.” Her smile cracked, her lips thinning. “I will say again that I believe Lady Rosalind’s characterisbeyond compare and, despite what I know of you, I can only pray that you will treat her with kindness and respect.”
“I understand that you have very little faith in me, Lady Eleanor,” Lucian answered, stepping outside. “That is understandable, I suppose but –”
“Especially since you coerced her into marriage.”
Lucian stopped short, turning to face Lady Eleanor, his eyes wide. “Coerced?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin a notch, her face a little pale as Lord Radcliffe came to join them, his own brows furrowed.
“I did not coerce her, Lady Eleanor.”
The lady snorted, shaking her head. “Then what would you call it, Your Grace?”
