“Oh,” Katrina breathed from her place beside Lady Tesh.
But Bronwyn hardly heard her. Something in her had shifted at the duke’s words, a softening in her chest she had never allowed before.
Confused, flustered, she cleared her throat. “I am not opposed to a special license,” she managed. “Though I would like the wedding held on Synne. With my friends in attendance.”
The smile that spread across his face was totally unexpected. It transformed him from wickedly dangerous to affable in an instant. Overwhelmed by her conflicting emotions, she frowned and looked down to her lap.
“Well then,” Lady Tesh said, thumping her cane on the ground in a decisive manner, “that settles it.”
“But, my lady, Your Grace,” Bronwyn’s mother tried, distress plain on her face, her hands flapping about, as if ready to take flight before they came to rest on her husband’s mustard-yellow sleeve.
“But nothing,” Lady Tesh snapped. “Good God, Mrs. Pickering. Both the bride and the groom are in agreement. We should heed their wishes.”
“B-but…” Mrs. Pickering tried again.
The look Lady Tesh speared her with leeched all color from her face, leaving only two garish splotches of rouge on her cheeks.
“Are you doubting my authority, Mrs. Pickering?” she demanded. “Or perhaps it is my faculties you call into question?”
Bronwyn’s mother flinched. For a second, Bronwyn almost felt sorry for her; there was nothing the woman wanted more than the dowager viscountess’s approval after all.
“Of course not, my lady,” Mrs. Pickering gasped.
“IamSynne,” Lady Tesh continued, glaring at Bronwyn’s parents in turn. Her pup, too, looked at the couple with disdain, as if daring them to doubt her mistress. “And if I say we can plan a swift wedding that will be fit for a duke and his duchess”—here she gave Bronwyn a nod—“then it shall be done.”
Mrs. Pickering, in the process of deflating at the dowager viscountess’s pronouncement, perked up at that. “Oh, my lady,” she gushed. “Are you saying you shall assist us in planning?”
“Indeed.” She turned to His Grace then. “You shall leave first thing tomorrow for London to fetch that special license. When do you think you shall return?”
“As I’ll be traveling with my wards so they might pack their things for their move to Caulnedy, I would say a fortnight will suffice,” he replied.
Lady Tesh narrowed her eyes. “A move to Caulnedy? Will you be residing on the Isle then?”
As if in slow motion, Bronwyn saw her intended open his mouth to answer the dowager viscountess. Would he admit that he would be leaving Bronwyn and the girls on Synne while he returned to London? That they were to have a marriage in name only?
Mortification flooded her. Ah God, she would not be able to handle the shame of something of that nature being revealed to these people. It was bad enough Bronwyn was aware of what others thought of her, that she was odd and unattractive and could never inspire the more delicate emotions in anyone, much less a magnetic, desirable, utterly male figure such as her soon-to-be husband.
With a suddenness that stunned her, the memory of the most devastating day came back to her, like a nightmare that would not end. She saw Lord Owens’s face as he visited their London residence, recalled the surge of happiness in her chest when he asked for her to fetch her parents, for he had something to ask her. And then the confusion, followed by ripping pain when his features turned cruel and he hurled those words at her that would forever be etched in her brain: “Did you honestly believe that someone like me could ever care for a pathetic creature like you? Mayhap now you Pickerings will learn that your place in the world is beneath the boot of respectable society. Do not overreach again.”
Now here was another horrible moment, where not only her parents would be witness to proof of her undesirability, but Lady Tesh and Katrina as well. Would they ignore the fact that the duke intended to leave her as soon as the vows were said, pretending as if it was completely natural for a bride and groom to part so quickly? Or, worse, would they look at her with pity in their eyes? She blanched. No, she couldn’t handle it. Before she knew what she was about, she blurted, “Yes, we’ll all reside on Synne. For a short time, at least.”
There were exclamations of delight all around. All except for His Grace, who was unnaturally still beside her.
“Very good,” Lady Tesh said. “A fortnight it shall be then. When you return in two weeks’ time, Your Grace, we shall be ready for you.”
“Oh, Lady Tesh,” Bronwyn’s mother gushed, looking at Lady Tesh in a kind of rapturous wonder. “How very generous you are.”
The tea arrived then, preventing further discourse for some minutes. A fact that Bronwyn could only be grateful for. Her head was pounding from how quickly everything was changing. In a matter of two weeks she would be wed to a virtual stranger. What had she been thinking? Yes, the idea of being sent off in disgrace to her brother’s house had been horrifying. But that at least had been a known outcome, something she could have prepared for. There were so many uncertainties now, from how others would see her to how she would be required to act to what the myriad duties of a duchess were. And they frightened her witless.
A sudden hand on her own made her jump. Her gaze jerked up and met His Grace’s frown. Ah, God, for a moment she had forgotten her hasty declaration that they would all reside on Synne for a time. No doubt he was furious at her. She searched his eyes for any signs of anger. But no, there was only a peculiar concern. He studied her, brows drawn together, before turning back to the others.
“As I shall be leaving tomorrow, and shan’t see Miss Pickering until our wedding day, I do believe we could do with some time alone to discuss matters.”
“Certainly, Your Grace,” Bronwyn’s mother said with a complacent smile. “You may make use of the back garden.”
His Grace stood, holding out a hand for Bronwyn. She looked at it for several seconds, studying his long fingers before, with a trembling breath and a quick glance at Katrina, who was looking at her with wide eyes, she grasped hold of it.
All too soon they were stepping out into the garden. It was not a large space, but it was not small either. Several winding paths snaked in and out of the thick foliage, giving an immediate sense of intimacy. It was the very reason she had taken solace here more times than she could count in the years since they’d moved to Synne. Now, however, it made her even more aware of the man at her side than ever before. The silence stretched on between them as they walked, the sounds of the churning ocean and seabirds and the people of Synne going about their merry lives muted back here in this private place. Bronwyn would have been completely content if they could just keep walking about, circle after circle, not having to face the enormity of what she had agreed to.