Page 59 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“Daughter. There you are. The vicar is here. We must hurry. Lord Ridley arrived ten minutes ago.” her father sounded worried.
“Men are supposed to wait,” Mama said lightly.
Papa shot her a look, but he did not argue. He seemed in a good mood, if a little agitated, and was wearing a gray velvet jacket and pale trousers. He was a good-looking man, if a little angry seeming. Anastasia gazed at him and wished that she could feel something besides a vague sense of pity. He was so lost. He would throw away everything that mattered in exchangefor a good investment, a prize to be won. And what was worse, he would not even be aware that he had already lost. All that mattered to Papa was what other people thought—and that made him the slave of everyone he met.
Anastasia gazed at Lily. She wished she could tell Lily those insights—she had just noticed them. But then, she thought with a smile, Lily might already be aware of all of that. She noticed more than people thought she did.
They hurried towards the drawing room.
Anastasia tensed as they went inside. Camilla was already there, and Camilla’s parents. They were to be the only guests, besides Mama and Papa and Lily. Anastasia took a breath, but then her gaze focused on the man at the small altar that the vicar had set up, and she could not make herself go over.
Lord Ridley stood facing the vicar, his back straight, his posture almost defiant. He wore a dark blue coat and navy-blue trousers, and the high-necked shirt was embellished with an elaborate cravat.
She felt her legs tense and she forced herself to take another step, and then another. Her father walked by her side. She had to keep up.
Lord Ridley did not turn around until she got to the front of the room. He turned and gazed at her briefly, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance.
Anastasia’s stomach roiled.
The appraising look that he leveled at her nauseated her. He never looked pleased or caring or even interested—not really. His eyes always calculated, always measured.
I do not want him to like what he sees. I would rather he ignored me for the rest of my existence than admire me in the way that he does.
She turned away.
The vicar, a young man with a thin face and big, serious brown eyes, smiled bemusedly. He looked a little unsure of why everyone was so tense, and why Anastasia and Lord Ridley seemed indifferent...to say nothing of why she had tears down her cheeks.
He gazed at them, gave an uncertain smile and then began the ceremony.
Anastasia felt her legs turn into stone. She was standing stiffly, unable to move even if she wanted. It was true. She could not run away. She was in the room and the vicar was there and he was speaking, and it was about to happen. Within less than an hour, she would walk out of the drawing room and her entire life would have changed.
God,she prayed silently.Help me. Strengthen me.
She gazed up at Lord Ridley, but he was watching the vicar with the same disinterested boredom with which he watched everyone—disinterested boredom or cold amusement or that unwelcome, discomforting interest he had shown in her as she stood beside him. Those three emotions were all the manseemed to feel.
She shuddered. Her gaze moved to the vicar.
He was speaking, and with horror, she realized that every word was one word closer to her walking out of the door with Lord Ridley. With each word he uttered, her time of freedom ran out.
“And does anyone know of any lawful impediment...” he began, clearing his throat.
Anastasia prayed.Please,she said silently in her heart.Please. Let something happen.
The vicar left the traditional pause, inviting anyone in the congregation who knew of some reason why she could not wed to speak out. It was tradition, only. There was no reason why they should not, and nobody was going to speak out. The vicar cleared his throat, and readied to begin.
Just as he began the next phrase, there was an almighty crack and, as Anastasia whirled around in shock, the door of the drawing room burst open, and a breeze drifted through.
“I do!” a voice shouted. “I know an impediment, Vicar.”
Anastasia’s legs wobbled. It was the Duke of Willowick. And he was walking towards her.
Chapter 23
As he strode into the room, Sidney’s gaze focused on Lady Anastasia, and he could look at nothing else. She was wearing a long white gown, a veil of gossamer-thin fabric over her hair, covering her face. She was holding a bouquet of pink and white roses. The fabric of the veil was so thin that he could see her face quite clearly through it—or, clearly enough to see her wide eyes and the surprised expression she wore.
His heart thudded. He had run up the stairs—indeed, he had run around the house from the stable at the back, but it was not for that reason that his heart was racing fit to burst. He was here. He had managed to arrive in time.
“You!” A shout from the chairs on his right made his head whip around to face it. He saw Lord Graystone rising out of his seat. His expression was full of rage. Beside Anastasia, Lord Ridley stood still. His mouth opened and then shut, as if he was going to say something and then thought through it and decided not to.
