Page 13 of Two Blessings For His Duchess
“You know...” Emily said, adjusting a stray pin in Euphemia’s hair, “...if you are going to bind your life to an absolute stranger, The Duke of Greymoor is probably your safest bet.”
Euphemia let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Is he? Because so far, my impression of him is that he is a strict, terrifying man who is incredibly rude.”
“Well, he is certainly efficient,” Emily agreed, walking over to the table to pour them both a glass of water. “But you really don’t know anything about him, do you?”
“I know his full name,” Euphemia said, taking the glass from Emily. “I know he has two daughters. Beyond that, he is a complete mystery. Can you tell me about him? Tell me something true. Tell me anything.”
Emily cleared her throat, and leaned on the table by Euphemia’s side. “Theodore knows him quite well. Do you want to know why the Duke was even staying in the West Wing the night you got lost?”
Euphemia blinked. “I assumed he was simply a guest at the party.”
“He was, but His Grace is a man that doesn’t attend social events,” Emily revealed. “He is a major business associate of Theodore’s. They have a business arrangement, a significant one, that has been in some difficulty over the past few months. Something to do with shipping ledgers. Theodore invited him down specifically so they could iron out the details. The two ofthem spent the entire night locked in the study, arguing over numbers and trade routes. They ended up talking until dawn. That is why the Duke wasn’t even in his bedroom when you went in, and why he only returned to his chambers at dawn.”
“Nathaniel has avoided thetonfor years now,” Emily continued. “He is almost a complete recluse when it comes to high society. He does not attend balls, he does not promenade in the park, and he does not participate in the usual gossip. He cares about his businesses, his investments, and nothing else. The only reason he even agreed to come to our estate was because Theodore promised him a quiet night to talk business. If there is no profit or strategy involved, the Duke simply does not show up.”
Euphemia listened intently, the tight knot of anxiety in her chest loosening just a fraction. Perhaps this wasn’t the tragedy she had initially thought it was. If Nathaniel truly prioritized his ledger books and his commercial empires over everything else, it meant he would likely have very little interest in monitoring her daily life. He would not be a controlling, overbearing husband micromanaging her every move or demanding things from her. He would leave her to her books, and her own devices, so long as she maintained the dignity of his name.
Euphemia convinced herself that this was, undoubtedly, the best possible outcome. A marriage devoid of grand romance was a disappointment, yes, but a marriage to a stranger who was too busy with work to bother her was an absolute luxury.
“So,” Emily said softly, setting her own glass down on the table. “Are you ready to get married? I know this is entirely different from what you ever envisioned for your life, and I am truly sorry for that, Effie.”
Emily reached out, taking Euphemia’s hands in her own. “But if you will allow me to give you a bit of perspective... when I married Theodore, we were not in love either. We only got married because of a very similar circumstance. I was facing absolute social ruin if he did not step up, and he did the honorable thing by marrying me.”
Euphemia looked at her.
“We were practically enemies,” Emily continued with a reminiscent smile. “Genuinely. I found him insufferable. Theodore and I had known each other for a few years before our wedding, and we absolutely loathed each other. We couldn’t stand to be in the same room because we always argued. I couldn’t bear his antics, and he was a notorious rake. But then we got married, and I got to see a side of him that I didn’t even know existed. He is a passionate man, Euphemia. He is incredibly caring, and when he loves, he loves with all his heart. He is a wonderful husband and a good father. Things turned out beautifully for me. Perhaps things might turn out well for you as well.”
Euphemia let out a weary breath and shook her head. “I do not think so, Emily. There is no doubt that you got your happily ever after, but you are one of the rare, lucky ones. It doesn’t happen like that for most people.”
Euphemia pulled her hands back gently, smoothing the silk of her gown once more. “I know the realities of these arrangements because I read a lot. I have read enough to know that what you and Theodore have is not the common outcome, it is the exception, and the exception is wonderful precisely because it is rare. If there is no love at the very beginning, there is a remarkably slim chance that there will be any love in the end. I was optimistic for a very long time. From the very start of this season, I held onto the hope that everything would turn out fine and that I would find a real match. But I am just too tired of being optimistic about finding love.”
Euphemia looked out the window. “I made a mistake, it resulted in a rushed marriage, and I am simply going to live with it. I will take it one day at a time. But I am not going to hold onto any foolish notions that love is going to magically appear. I just want to walk down that aisle, get married, and get it over with.”
Emily sighed, her eyes filled with deep sympathy. “Well, I am going to keep hoping and praying that things end up beautifully for you anyway. Even if you have given up, I have not.”
Euphemia smiled. It was real, warm, and tired. “Thank you for the gesture, Emily. Truly.”
But as she turned back to the mirror to finalize her veil, Euphemia thought about The Duke of Greymoor. She simply could not see a world where she and a man like Nathaniel could ever be in love. They were complete opposites. They were nothing alike in temperament, desire, or outlook. She hadalready completely resigned her mind to the reality of a cold, quiet marriage.
There was no world, she told herself, in which the two of them ended up in love.
She was quite certain of it.
She picked up her gloves and put them on, and told herself she was quite certain of it again, for good measure.
The thing about walking down the aisle, Euphemia thought, was that from the outside it looked serene.
She knew this because she had watched other women do it. They floated. They glided. They moved gracefully… like women who had arrived at the happiest moment of their lives and knew it and wanted everyone present to understand that they knew it. They looked at their grooms and their grooms looked at them and the whole business had a quality of rightness to it, a sense that the universe had arranged itself into the correct configuration and everyone in the room was simply bearing witness.
Euphemia was not floating.
She was genuinely terrified that she was about to trip over her own hem and face-plant directly onto the stone floor, and it was entirely the Duke’s fault.
Nathaniel was staring straight into her soul.
The sheer intensity of his gaze was staggering. He stood at the altar, looking exceptionally handsome in a perfectly tailored dark coat and a crisp white cravat, but his expression was entirely unyielding. Euphemia tried every trick she could think of to break the tension. She looked away, she focused on a stained-glass window, she stared down at her bouquet, and she glanced at the small gathering of guests… yet no matter where she shifted her attention, she could still feel the heavy, burning weight of his eyes on her.
‘Why…’ she thought. ‘…is he looking at me like that?”
