by Dayna Quince
“My apologies,” the duke begged of them. “What were we discussing?”
Although Obedience felt like her heart was trying to escape her chest, she knew what she must do. Chance caught her eye. His look said so many things that she didn't quite understand. She didn't want to admit that she was scared, that things were moving so fast she couldn't grasp her own feelings, but one thing hadn't changed. She was doing this for the duke, to repay him for all the kindness and affection he had given her over the years. He was asking for forever, which he deserved, but when standing at the edge of forever, it’s normal to have some trepidation. There was also her mother and sister. They would either come to terms with her marriage or continue to hate her, but a small part of her wished they could be here with her.
She felt alone, which was ridiculous because she had two great men—two knights in shining armor, championing her. But how was she supposed to explain to them that although she was grateful and willing to do exactly what they asked, she was terrified. She took a deep breath.
“We were discussing the wedding, sir,” she said in a moderately calm voice. “I believe Lord Willowton suggested this afternoon?” Obedience looked up at Chance. He was looking down at her with gratitude.
“Perfect. Chance, ring for Gable so we can begin preparations,” the duke said gleefully.
Chance did as he was asked and returned to Obedience's side. Obedience stood. “I should return to my room. Not all of my things are unpacked, and I need to make sure I have a suitable dress to wear.” The gentlemen nodded.
“I'll walk you to the stairs.” Chance took her elbow. Chance paused when they arrived at the bottom stair and pulled her to face him. “Are you sure you're ready for this?”
“I'm as ready as I will ever be. I know it would mean a lot to your father to have it over and done with.”
Chance smiled. “Surely our wedding has more romantic meaning than something to be over and done with?”
Obedience bit her lip, her nerves once again coming to the forefront. “Of course, I only meant that he looks tired, and this will ease some of his strain.”
Chance pulled her closer, him smile slipping to a frown. “Obedience, I know this situation is...not ideal, but I want you to know that though the wedding will be rushed for the sake of my father, I will give you all the time you need to become accustomed to your new position as my wife. This is so sudden, and you're so innocent, I don't want to hurt or scare you. Do you understand?”
Obedience nodded. “Thank you, that's very considerate of you. I admit the duties of a duchess seem very daunting.”
Chance shook his head. “I'm not talking about linens and silverware, Obedience. I'm talking about—” Gable stepped into the foyer and Chance clamped his mouth shut.
“You rang, my lord?”
“I should go.” Obedience turned and slipped out of his grasp.
Chance grimaced as she ran up the stairs, and then turned back to Gable. “You're wanted in the study by my father. The Archbishop will also need a room prepared.”
“Yes, my lord.” Gable bowed and moved on.
Chance stared up the stairs where Obedience had disappeared. He considered following after her, but his father would need his help, and he would certainly have time to talk with her later.
Obedience reached her room and rang for a maid. Once she arrived, she requested a bath and began to dig through the dresses that had been hung in her dressing room. She hadn't thought of her wedding dress when she was packing last night. She had only thought of day-to-day dresses to wear. She settled for a pale blue day dress that had seed pearls sown to the bodice in neat little rows. The color was lighter than her eyes but suited her. The maid returned with footmen in tow and set up for her bath. Once Obedience had finished, the maid returned and helped her brush and style her hair.
A note arrived from Chance. The ceremony would be held at one, with a celebratory lunch on the lawn. He asked if there were any requests she would like to make, but Obedience couldn't think of anything. She was still in a bubble of shock, going through the motions in a detached fashion. Her stomach was aflutter with nerves, and she couldn't keep herself still long enough to relax. Every time she did, she would think of the wedding, and her mind would wander quickly over all the things that had gone wrong. That is until the maid made a comment about Obedience not having a proper nightgown for her wedding night. Then that one thought dominated all others.
Tonight would be her wedding night. With Chance.
She couldn't control her blushes when she thought of it. She thought of the very real aspect of what becoming his wife meant, and a flood of tingling sensation came over her. They had kissed, and done some very intimate things in the carriage, but tonight she would be...his wife.
They would share a bed, and a room, breakfast, lunch, and dinner most days. He would be privy to every aspect of her life. Even though she had imagined herself in love with him since she was a little girl, she had never imagined they would marry. She hadn't imagined this, a rushed wedding, a complete inversion of her life into something entirely different from what she knew.
He undoubtedly would see her naked and she him. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her less than svelte figure and folded her arms over her stomach. And if they were sharing a bed, and being intimate, that meant children. She would be having his children, little boys with blond curls or maybe dark hair like hers. It was all happening so overwhelmingly fast.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In a little over an hour, she would be married, and she thought she might fall apart at the seams. It was so sudden and so unexpected. She opened her eyes and dared to think one horrible thought. Maybe she didn't want to do this? Instantly, she felt guilty because she had already agreed, the Archbishop was here, and she knew from the look in the duke’s eyes how happy it would make him. But what about her? She was no longer under her mother’s thumb, and she did love them both, but was she in love? She had always thought she was, but those were the musings of a mere girl. It had been five years since they had seen each other. Did she really know the man he was now? Did he know her? So many questions ricocheted inside her. She stood from her vanity and paced before the window. She couldn't back out—she wouldn't. But she needed to acknowledge her own feelings. She was scared. Her life was rapidly changing in just a short time. Soon the duke would be gone and her heart would be broken again. He had filled the role of father in her mind, bolstering her confidence, admonishing her for the things that did make it to the gossips, and comforting her when her mother made her feel like an abomination.
And then there was Chance.
She had yet to meet a man so handsome. But not only was he handsome, he was kind, thoughtful, cheerful, and so irritatingly perceptive. He had so much good in him that it put her to shame.
And then he had kissed her.
It was like a dream. She had felt things in that moment she hadn't realized she could feel. The man of her dreams had stepped out of her mind and proved how very real he was. He said they had passion, an emotion she wasn't familiar with, but the more he showed her, the more she wanted to know. She would always be safe with him. She would always be able to trust him completely. But was that real love? She didn't know. Either way, there was only one direction for her to go. She would marry him, care for the duke in his final weeks, and somehow figure out the rest along the way.
Chapter 11
Obedience arrived in the drawing room just before one and found only Chance. She glanced around in surprise at the absent group of attendees.
“You look lovely.” He smiled and stepped before her.
Obedience brought a shaky hand to her hair. The maid Angela, she had learned, had done an expert job shaping and pinning her curls into and elegant coiffure. “Thank you. You look handsome as usual.” He wore buckskin breeches, polished Hessians, a dark blue coat, and a pale blue waistcoat with a snowy white cravat.
“We decided a garden ceremony would be better. I tho
ught you'd like it.”
She smiled. “That does sound nice.”
He held out his arm. “Shall we?”
She took his arm and they strolled out onto the terrace and down the steps. An arbor had been moved in front of the steps where not long ago they had danced on the lawn in moonlight. Roses of pink, white, orange, and red had been cut and tucked into the lattice slats along with vines of ivy.
“Oh,” she gasped, “it’s beautiful.”
Mrs. Moore and Gable stood from their chairs, Mrs. Moore dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
The duke was in his chair, beaming with pride. The Archbishop stood before the arbor, a bible in his hands and a sunny smile on his face. They stepped in front of him. Obedience felt like her knees had turned to pudding. If not for her arm linked with Chance's, she wasn't sure she could stand. She did her best to appear serene, but she wasn't sure she was succeeding. She kept her hands firmly clasped together, afraid they would shake. The Archbishop opened his bible and started to speak.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men, and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy estate, these two persons present come now to be joined. If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter, forever hold his peace.”
Obedience exhaled, grateful neither her mother nor Patience was in attendance at that moment. Her head felt oddly light, and she could feel the sun on the back of her neck making her uncomfortably warm. She prayed things would move quickly, but having attended two weddings in her short life, she knew that would not be so.
“I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God’s word doth allow, their marriage is not lawful.”
Obedience switched her weight to her other foot. She wanted to groan in desperation. She didn't remember wedding vows sounding so ominous before, but then again, she never paid attention until now. From the corner of her eye, she saw Chance's head move just a little in her direction. Her discomfiture must be obvious, but she couldn't help it. The sun felt as if she was standing too close to a fire, and her hands were growing slick where they touched. Would it be odd to ask the Archbishop to stop so she could rest and have a sip of water? She mentally shook herself—yes, it would be odd. She took a deep breath to fortify herself.
“Chance Theodore Armstrong, Marquess of Willowton, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” Chance said solemnly.
Obedience turned her head just enough to see his face. He looked irritatingly composed. Already, she felt like she was sweating through her dress, and her hair leaned heavily to her right side.
“Obedience Theodora Wickenham, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I beg your pardon, did you say obey?” Obedience felt disoriented by the heat and the words had caught her off guard.
The Archbishop looked at her in surprise. Chance slightly turned to her, his lips twitching. “It is your namesake. Will you, or will you not? It’s a simple question, minx.”
“You don't have to say obey.” Obedience returned tersely. She could hear the duke trying to muffle his laughter. She turned back to the archbishop. “Does it really say obey for the woman and not for the man?”
He looked quite put out, but he actually looked down at his book and nodded. “Yes, it does. Now, may we continue?”
Obedience pursed her lips. She was as agitated as a bee trapped in a window. “Yes, we may, and yes, I will.”
The archbishop shook his head in disbelief. “I've never—”
A sound erupted from Chance that turned into a cough. “My apologies, please go on,” Chance bid.
“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” The Archbishop continued testily.
Obedience felt her heart contract painfully. She had no father to give her away. Tears instantly pooled in her eyes.
“I do,” the duke said gruffly. “Her father bestowed that honor to me before his passing.”
The archbishop took Obedience's right hand, his voice softer now. “Give him your hand, dear.” He placed it in Chance's right hand.
Obedience looked up at Chance. He didn't look so composed now, and for some reason, that made her feel better.
He repeated after the archbishop. “I, Chance Theodore Armstrong, Marquess of Willowton, take thee Obedience Theodora Wickenham, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto, I plight thee my troth.”
As he said every word he looked right into her eyes, and Obedience felt them in her soul. They switched their hands, and the Archbishop spoke the words for her to repeat, so she took a steadying breath and looked right into his eyes. “I, Obedience Theodora Wickenham, take thee Chance Theodore Armstrong, Marquess of Willowton to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto, I give thee my troth.” She exhaled, her head once again feeling so light it could float away.
Chance gave the archbishop the ring, he returned it to Chance, whom then held Obedience's hand and held her eyes again. The archbishop’s voice and the rest of the world dimmed as Chance captivated all her senses.
“With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” He slowly slid the ring onto her finger.
They turned to face the archbishop and began to kneel. When Obedience unlocked her knees, they gave out. Chance caught her, and the archbishop didn't notice as they slowly came down together, Chance’s arm firmly around her. They remained like that, as the archbishop performed the prayer, speaking to the sky and heavens above them.
He finished and bent toward them. “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder,” he said emphatically. “You may rise.”
Chance assisted Obedience to her feet while the archbishop resumed the ceremony. Obedience tried to focus on the archbishop, but her knees felt like water. She began to sway, and then her vision became hazy. She reached out to him feebly.
Chance was already reaching out to steady her when her shoulders and head slumped, and she fell into him. Mrs. Moore screamed, startling the archbishop from his passionate address. Chance scooped her into his arms. He carried her into the drawing room and set her down on the settee. Mrs. Moore followed him, anxiously fanning Obedience. He could hear his father bellowing for aid until Gable and the archbishop assisted him into the house.
Her eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”
“You fainted.” Chance held her hand.
“No. I've never fainted in my life.”
Chance smiled. “I wouldn't have believed it myself except I saw you do it.”
“Give her some air,” the duke ordered as he approached under t
he aid of the elderly butler and archbishop.
“Oh, dear.” Obedience tried to sit up. “You must sit.”
Chance allowed her to sit up, and the archbishop and Gable gladly eased the duke onto the settee. They were both red-faced and panting from exertion.
“Did I ruin the ceremony? Do we have to do it again?” she said in distress.
“God, I hope not.” Chance wiped his brow.
The archbishop gave him a peeved glare. “I suppose we can commence with the signing of the registry, given the unusual circumstances.”
Obedience slumped in relief. Chance squeezed in beside her on the settee and rested her head on his shoulder. “Well, look at that. We're married, Porcupette.”
Obedience would have swatted at him if she weren’t feeling so weak. The archbishop picked up the registry book and handed it to Chance. “Are you up to it, Lady Willowton?”
Obedience nodded and sat up straighter.
“I'll have some cool lemon water brought in to revive everyone.” Mrs. Moore hurried from the room.
Under the archbishop’s direction, they signed their names. It was official. Obedience stared in awe until the archbishop pulled the book away and snapped it closed. She looked up at Chance, and he was smiling at her.
“This is the oddest wedding I have ever officiated,” the Archbishop mumbled.
The duke laughed. “Would you have expected anything less from me?”
“I attended your wedding, Maltravers. Everything went accordingly, if you remember. Given your son’s exemplary reputation, I would have expected the same, but—”
“What's your point?” The duke pinned him with a stare.
“I know the reason for this hasty marriage is because of your health, but I wonder if that is the only reason,” he pointedly looked at Obedience.
