Page 75 of How to Ruin a Rake

“I have been told that it is quite the thing for the bride to arrive fashionably late.” Her father smiled at her. “And I must confess that making the Duke of Barfleur wait for anything is something of a pleasure.”

Allegra sipped her brandy rather quickly and felt the sudden warmth course through her veins. She’d barely been able to eat anything at breakfast and was regretting it now.

Her father glanced at her. “Despite the difficult beginning, I think you made the right decision, my dear. You will have the protection of the Devereux family name for the rest of your life, you will be a duchess, and I can’t think of anyone who could carry it off as well as you will.”

“Thank you; I’ll do my best.”

“Gentlemen like the marquess …” Her father paused. “They usually settle down once they marry.”

“One can only hope.” Allegra finished her brandy and set the glass carefully down on the desk.

“But I think you have the measure of him, my dear.” Her father met her gaze. “And I believe he has a healthy respect for you. In truth, he wouldn’t have agreed to marry you if he hadn’t wished to save your reputation.”

Allegra tried not to wince. “Don’t worry, Father, I am well aware that this isn’t a love match like yours, but I will make the best of it, and be a loyal and faithful wife to Max.”

Her father wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. “I know that, my dear girl. He is lucky to have you, and if he ever forgets that, you will always have our family to support you in every way.”

“Thank you,” Allegra said.

He kissed the top of her head and released her. After a quick look at his pocket watch, he turned toward the door.

“Shall we go, my dear? Your bridegroom will be expecting you.”

Allegra mustered a smile, picked up her heavy skirts, and allowed him to escort her into the hall, where the entire staff had lined up to wish her well and see her off to the church. She smiled and nodded as she went past, aware of the unaccustomed weight of the family tiara woven into her hair and the dragging train of her gown.

She managed to get into the carriage with her father’s assistance and was driven the relatively short distance to St. George’s, where a large crowd had gathered to watch the entertainment. There was a loud cheer when her carriage stopped in front of the church and her father helped her down. Carenza and her mother appeared between the Corinthian columns guarding the entrance and made sure that she looked presentable.

Allegra felt like she was moving through a dream. Nothing felt quite right. Soft music played within the church, which was absolutely full, the chattering congregation giving the scene a greater resemblance to the first night of an opera than a wedding.

“Ready?” Her father proffered his arm.

She nodded. Carenza fell in behind them, and her mother slipped down the side aisle to find her place at the front. For one terrible moment, when she felt the avid looks of those in society who had always wished her to fail, she considered bolting. But something drew her on, some sense of pride in herself and her family that exalted in their sudden reemergence in society.

She focused on the tall figure awaiting her at the altar. Max was beautifully turned out in white linen and a dark blue coat that was molded to his figure. He turned to look as she approached, his expression suitably grave. Allegra was suddenly glad of the protection the heavy lace of her veil afforded her.

She looked at the vicar and tried to follow along with the service, but the words danced in her head and made no sense. How had she ended up at the altar with Max, and how on earth would she manage the rest of her life? She gasped when he reached for her hand and held her shaking fingers within his, his thumb stroking hers in a reassuring manner that made little difference to her abject terror.

When she was asked to speak her vows, she did so in a firm voice. The least she could do was offer Max her loyalty and discretion. She would keep those vows, regardless of how he behaved. She owed him that. He spoke his own vows directly to her, his voice low, his gaze intent. Something inside her steadied simply at the sound of his voice, and she remembered to breathe.

All too soon, the marriage service was complete and Max was lifting her veil. He looked her up and down.

“Just checking that you aren’t Lady Carenza.”

“I … you—” Allegra spluttered.

He offered her his arm. “Shall we? I believe my father has organized a magnificent wedding breakfast at Barfleur Hall.”

She placed her gloved hand on his sleeve, and they proceeded down the aisle, smiling graciously at the avid faces staring back at them. There was a carriage awaiting them directly outside the church, and Max deftly helped her up and got in beside her.

“That went well,” he commented as he waved at the crowds gathered on the street. “I did wonder whether you’d actually turn up.”

“I made you a promise.”

He turned to look at her. “Yes, you did.”

She raised her chin. “And I intend to keep it.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”