Page 18 of Yours Truly, the Duke
’Tis not thine, with flaunting beauty
To attract the roving sight;
Nature, from her varied wardrobe,
Chose thy vest of purest white.
Perhaps Wyatt should have had more than a nip or two of brandy with his toast and eggs after all. Standing before a long-winded vicar and waiting to say, “I do,” wasn’t as easy as men had always made it appear. That was probably another reason his father had always told him to put off marriage for as long as he could. Why would a young and healthy man, who had everything he could possibly want, put himself through this?
Only a few people were in attendance, but enough. The children were sitting on the same chairs, in the same place, and looking just as stiff as when he’d first seen them a couple of days ago. An elderly couple and a widow who were neighbors of Miss Hale, the solicitors, and the governess and housekeeper were also present.
Nonetheless, despite feeling a lingering resentment for what he was having to do and why, Wyatt was managing. Yesterday, when papers filled with questions and answers were flying back and forth between Paddleton and theinn where he was staying, he had his doubts the wedding would take place. Luckily, Epworth had already been in touch with Miss Hale’s barrister and they both arrived in plenty of time to finalize preparation of all the documents.
It was very businesslike, as he had wanted.
He hadn’t seen Miss Hale since he’d let himself out the back door of her house to allow her to deal with Mr. Maywaring however she thought best. It had helped settle some of Wyatt’s own misgivings about the hasty wedding when she walked into the drawing room looking more like a beautiful angel with three cherubs flanking her than a nervous, reluctant bride. She wore a long-sleeved simple but elegant ivory dress and carried a small bouquet of dried wildflowers in her hands. More flowers had been woven into her dark-blond hair like a crown.
He couldn’t say she looked happy. No doubt, he didn’t either. What could he expect? Neither of them wanted to marry, but both were being forced by circumstances beyond their power to change.
Not a situation Wyatt wanted to ever be in again.
Now that the actual ceremony was taking place, he found it incongruous that he was wishing Miss Hale looked a little happier than the restrained expression she maintained. Even so, marrying her wasn’t all bad. There were rewards even now. He enjoyed standing close to her, feeling the warmth of her body beside his and looking at the graceful oval shape of her face, narrow bridge of her small nose, and high crest of her cheeks while the vicar spoke.
Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder if his father would have given in and married so young if he’d been faced with the same situation. Probably not. Wyatt wouldn’t have either if his grandmother hadn’t seen fit to want to leave her wealthy property to The London Society of Poetry.
“Your Grace,” the vicar said, bringing Wyatt’s attention back to the matter before him. “Would you please take the hand of your bride and repeat after me?”
Wyatt placed his gloved hand, palm up, toward her. Her dark velvety lashes fluttered, and she lifted her gaze to his. He saw indecision and trepidation in her beautiful eyes and understood everything she felt. Her chest rose and fell with short, shallow pants. Fear she might back out flooded him. He felt himself willing her to place her hand in his. Not just because there was no time to marry another, but because he wantedher.
Time suddenly seemed suspended as he waited.
Unspoken, a battle of wills swirled between them until he felt the barest brush of her fingertips. Relief melted through him. Wyatt gently closed his hand around hers and held firmly. She stiffened, but he also felt a soft, feminine intake of breath shudder over her. A quiver of sensual desire shivered across his lower stomach and settled in his loins.
A hot poker couldn’t have heated him more.
He tightened his hold. At first, she resisted by pulling back, but then a calm seemed to come over her and she accepted his grip. Their gazes locked as they repeated words the vicar spoke. During the process, Wyatt felt an intriguing and undefinable emotion surging through him as they stood close together, joined in this pact of holy matrimony.
It was unsettling that she fascinated him so. Being attracted to this lady wasn’t part of his plan. He hadn’t been prepared to be intoxicated by the fresh womanly scent of her, the hushed sounds of her breathing, or the binding words flowing from their lips. All of it teased his body with masculine thoughts.
“I pronounce you husband and wife.”
Wyatt blinked. It was over. The inheritance from his grandmother was safe from the clutches of the London Society of Poetry.
“You may kiss your bride, Your Grace.”
Wyatt knew all the traditional reasons for a wedding kiss: to seal the agreement, to make it a legal bond, and, rarely considered anymore, that it would be the first kiss between the happy couple. In this case, that happened to be true.
The room was so quiet he would have sworn to anyone he heard every click of the large clock that stood in the entryway of the house and every intake of breath in the room. He hadn’t thought ahead to a kiss.
Slowly, he relaxed his grip on her hand. One finger at a time as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of her at all. And for one wild second, he didn’t think he did. Her lips were inviting, but the situation wasn’t. There were a dozen people in the room, including two little girls and a boy curiously watching them. Not ideal for a first kiss. He bent and brushed his lips so briefly to hers he wasn’t sure they’d touched until he heard her startled, innocent breath. Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes. They were starry. It pleased him and a brief smile touched his lips.
He then looked at the vicar with a nod and stepped away.
The children started clapping and his tension eased. He turned toward them and smiled. It was good to see them happy, up out of their chairs and moving about. They should never appear to be soldiers lined up for duty. He wanted to see them playful and full of innocent mischief.
Wyatt would have never thought it possible just a few days ago that he would have a wife and three children to consider as well.
The boy and oldest girl went running up to Miss Ha—the duchess, wrapping their arms around her lovingly and hugging her close. Her neighbors crowded her too. Surprisingly, the youngest girl came over and looked up at him. With her aristocratic little face and ringlets of dark-golden hair, she had the makings of being an exquisite beauty one day.
