Other than her betrothed, the priest, and her family, there was not a single other soul within sight.
She peered ahead at the altar where her husband-to-be stood tall and calm next to the priest.
From this distance, she could make out the rough lines of his jaw and stiff posture, but Nancy could also tell just how he managed such a vile reputation as it was clear his good looks gave him an advantage. It disturbed her, how carefree and handsome he looked, oblivious to the distress his future wife was battling.
As far as she knew, he also needed this marriage for his own reasons. That being said, in order to ward off suspicion from the ton, it had to look as real as possible, regardless of the reason.
And so, it was disconcerting to discover that he had not invited a single person.
What sort of man has no one to support him at his own wedding?
“Good luck,” Beatrice whispered to her, hugging her close for a moment.
When she pulled away, Nancy had to clench her fists by her sides to keep herself from reaching out to hold her little sister longer.
Lady Suttington stepped forward, looking both proud and somewhat conflicted as she took Nancy’s hands in her own and squeezed gently with a small smile. “You look beautiful, darling. It will be fine.”
Nancy inhaled shakily and nodded, forcing herself not to focus too closely on her mother, lest she lose her conviction. “Thank you, Mama.”
Her mother glanced down the aisle, and when she looked back at her, whatever uncertainty lingered within her gaze had vanished. She led Beatrice to their seats.
Anne, alone, lingered by Nancy’s side. With her father dead and her hatred towards Lord Talbot—no,Lord Suttington—for almost throwing her out of her house, Nancy had no male family member left to walk her down the aisle. Anne had offered to assume this role but was not allowed to do so. Still, she had managed to convince their mother to let her stay with Nancy until she set off on her walk down the aisle.
When she looked up at Nancy, she asked with the same severity she had used inside the carriage, once more offering a rare display of maturity despite her young age.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Nancy?”
Nancy looked into Anne’s eyes, and every reason that she had clung to desperately that kept her from committing to this duty wholly evaporated into the air. Her family was all she had, and they were more important than finding love.
And now, it was her responsibility to provide for them.
She nodded, feeling surer with each passing moment. “I am, Annie. I promise.”
The walk down the aisle seemed to go by in the blink of an eye, and soon she was standing before the groom and the priest, all of the courage she had managed to summon minutes ago reduced to nothing in the face of the man she was to spend the rest of her life with.
Her heart was beating so fast, so loudly that she could feel her fingers quake as she clutched her bouquet of flowers, unable to deny to herself that up close, she still found her husband… handsome.
Terriblyhandsome.
Richard Harrington, the Duke of Wexford, stood as though he had never had a worry or a fearful thought in his whole life, his strong frame showing no hint of weakness as he stared ahead, his brown eyes dull with disinterest.
Not for the first time that day, Nancy wished her father was still alive.
Given that his death was the reason for her predicament, she felt as though that wish was a tad ridiculous. Still, he had always been there for her whenever she had problems. She had grown up with him always within reach, ever eager and present to listen to her and give her guidance.
He wouldn’t have wanted her to feel so terrified. He wouldn’t have put her in this situation at all, and this was as unfair as it got.
He isn’t here anymore. But I am.I must do what is needed of me. He would be proud of me for taking care of our family.
She stared ahead at her husband, pitifully noting that his good looks evoked nothing but a distant acknowledgment from her.
There was no single flare of affection or even a spark or something akin to love which was not entirely surprising as she did not know him at all. Their circumstances did not allow them a chance to court properly, and from what she had heard of him, he would never love her.
A man without virtue or self-control was hardly a man in her opinion.
“Are you both ready?” the priest questioned.
“I am,” the Duke replied, his tone gruff and almost impatient.
