Chapter Seven
“Relax, man,” Brookhaven instructed, his eyes positively dancing as they stood at the front of the church. He adjusted his gloves and gave him a nod. “You look as if you’re about to do the Tyburn Jig.”
He felt like he was about to dance the Tyburn jig, too.
It wasn’t Victoria. He liked her. Quite well. In fact, she was singular. But marriage?
Chase fought an inward groan and did everything he could to force the muscles of his neck, back, and chest to relax.
It was a fruitless endeavor.
Everything in him roiled against marriage. He was dangerously close to bending the vow he’d made.
Once he’d found out the truth of his line, he’d never thought to wed. But the years as a duke had proved most taxing. Mamas would try to corner him wherever he went. And ladies did endeavor to maneuver him into marriage.
The last thing he wished was to find himself in a situation not of his own making.
Yes, this really was the best for everyone.
Marriage to Victoria would make his life a good deal easier.
He had promised his father that he wouldn’t father children of his own. And now, here he stood in the small chapel on his estate, just outside of London, with his only friend, Brookhaven.
At least he had not sworn he wouldn’t marry. Really, this was a boon for both of them. They could achieve their wants in this union, and he felt quite good about that. He’d not let himself consider marriage until Victoria.
He’d never have risked it before. But her reputation had made it easy for him to intervene at the gambling table.
Besides, Victoria Kirby was far more than a woman meant for things like simple desire that would be slaked and forgotten in a moment.
Victoria was a woman he admired. She was a woman who got in one’s thoughts and did not go.
Suddenly, he yanked at his cravat. Why the blazes was she late?
Chase snuck a glance back at the empty nave. He was nearly sweating in anxious anticipation. Him. The most notorious rake of the ton, a former soldier, and an excellent duelist. A duke, devil take.
How the blazes did she make him so…unsettled?
Damnation. Hells bells. Blast it all.Thoughts of Victoria made his mind go wandering.
Since acquiring the special license from the bishop, he had been able to think of little else but her tart tongue and bold nature.
Once she had returned home to await their wedding, he’d gone about like a bumbleheaded fool. Thank God she’d not been witness to that.
Somehow, after a daze, he had found himself standing where the groom was meant to in the ancient chapel on the appointed day at the correct time. Without Brookhaven, he doubted if he would have got his boots on, let alone made it on time.
He took another deep breath.
Was he about to suffer apoplexy? Surely, marriage couldn’t actually kill a man?
“That’s it, old boy,” Brookhaven said brightly. “Now, take one more. There you go. That’s it. That’s it.”
Brookhaven pounded heartily on his back.
He stumbled and nearly plummeted to the polished stone floor. Righting himself, he whipped his friend a ball-crushing stare. “I’m not a bloody horse. You don’t need to soothe me.”
“Well, you look like you need soothing,” Brookhaven said, his lips pursed in contemplation.
“Hmph.” He folded his hands behind his back, then balled his hands into fists. A few seconds passed, pounding through his brain like a veritable eon. “Is she here yet?”