A Hint of Scandal (15 page)

“Let me straighten your bonnet ribbon,” Lady Penninghurst said. Not that the bow under Bella’s chin needed adjusting, but Aunt Elizabeth needed a moment of normalcy during this very trying morning.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” Aunt Elizabeth whispered.

Bella’s eyes closed for a moment as she stood before her aunt. She was dressed in a lavender gown and matching pelisse with blond lace at the neck and at her cuffs. Bella
had fervently resisted wearing this ensemble today, but her aunt had insisted.

“Arabella, I will not have you looking like a waif on your wedding day,” Lady Penninghurst had said earlier, when Bella had stated she would be wearing her old gray gown.

“This is not my wedding day,” Bella had responded hotly, pausing in her anxious pacing for a moment. “The duke and I are being forced into this sham marriage because of archaic and barbaric notions of propriety.”

“Bella, please let us not argue this again.” Aunt Elizabeth sighed. “We must be at the church in less than an hour. I insist you wear your lavender gown and let my maid do something with your hair.”

She had looked at her niece’s stricken features and softened her tone. “Do not you see that your honor is at stake? There is no other answer but to wed the duke and have the protection of his name. You should be pleased that he is a man of principle and is willing to do the right thing.”

Bella snorted derisively at this, and resumed her pacing. “With my father and uncle looking as if they would call him out if he didn’t, I doubt the duke felt he had any choice in the matter,” Bella replied.

But Bella knew that no amount of pleading or arguing would do any good. She had tried everything she could think during the last few days to get everyone to see reason. She had written letters to her papa and uncle, which they ignored. She had cried and pleaded with her aunt to make her uncle David put a stop to this nonsense, again to no avail.

Yesterday, in a last desperate attempt to prevent this travesty, Bella had hastily written a note to the duke. In it she beseeched him to just leave Mabry Green and ignore her father and uncle. After charging one of the servants to take the note to the manor and wait for a reply, Bella had sat in her room and waited with the feeling that her nerves were stretched beyond her endurance.

It had seemed to take an interminable amount of time before the servant returned. She had torn the duke’s note in her haste to read it, and to her dismay he had stated that they both must do the honorable thing. He had concluded
the note by writing that he would see her at the church on Friday morning.

She had balled up the missive and thrown it across the room in desperate anger and frustration. At that moment she seriously contemplated running away—but very soon realized that there was nowhere for her to go.

In that moment Bella knew her fate was sealed. She was being forced to wed a man who was a gentleman by birth and rank, but whom she knew to be a rake.

Bella could not recall ever feeling so bereft or frightened.

So she had pressed her lips together and given in to her aunt’s desire that she wear her best gown to this mockery of a holy ceremony.

“There,” her aunt said, giving the bow a last tweak, bringing Bella back to the present.

Bella finally lifted her eyes and looked at her aunt.

“Please do not be so angry with us, Bella. We truly have your best interest at heart,” Aunt Elizabeth said softly to her niece.

The short journey to the place where Bella and her family had worshiped all their lives was made in silence until the carriage pulled up to the wide wooden doors of the church.

“Bella, before you enter I should let you know that your uncle and I have given Beatrice permission to attend the ceremony,” she told Bella with some trepidation.

Bella heaved an angry sigh. “Why not? She might as well see the culmination of her handiwork. But if she thinks I shall forgive her because we are in church, she is quite mistaken,” Bella told her aunt with quiet vehemence.

After Bella had learned of Triss’s deceitfulness, Triss had tried to explain and beg forgiveness numerous times. She had pleaded with Bella to open the bedroom door. She had banged on the bedroom door. She had slid notes under the bedroom door. But Bella would have none of it.

Her cousin’s duplicitous behavior had cut so deeply, Bella could not imagine anything Triss could say that would make her feel any different toward her.

The most painful part of this estrangement was that Bella, though she would never admit it, missed Triss terribly.
How ironic
, Bella thought bitterly. The one person she
would normally look to for comfort was the person who had caused this nightmare.

The carriage door opened and Bella saw that her father was standing outside the church doors, evidently waiting for them to arrive. Before exiting the carriage, she paused a moment and turned to look at her aunt. “My last remaining hope is that the church is empty,” Bella said with a remnant of her old humor.

“I somehow doubt it, Bella, dear,” Aunt Elizabeth said with a tight little smile.

Her father approached and first helped Aunt Elizabeth from the carriage. She whispered something to her brother-in-law before quickly slipping into the church.

Bella’s father turned to her, and she met his solemn gaze before taking his outstretched hand, allowing him to assist her exit from the carriage.

Breathing in the crisp morning air fortified her as, without a word, he led her up the church steps.

Suddenly an icy calm descended over Bella’s roiling emotions. For the first time since that horrible moment four mornings ago, Bella found a little hope. Somehow, some way, she would find a way out of this horrible mess, she vowed to herself resolutely.

It occurred to her that she certainly must have an ally in the duke.

Her heart lifted a little more as her father opened the church door and they entered the vestibule.

Bella latched on to the idea that the duke would help find a way to extricate them from such a misalliance. She had heard of the Church granting annulments under certain circumstances. Surely, together they could find a solution. Despite his stated willingness to do the honorable thing, the duke must be as eager as she to be free. After all, he had ladies to meet in atriums, she thought with some asperity.

She was pulled from her musings when she became aware that her father had stopped just inside the open doorway of the church.

His eyes were resting on her, and though his expression was still very solemn, there was something else in his gaze.

“I am deeply pained that you should feel this animosity
toward me, Bella, but I have faith that someday you will see that this was the honorable course to take.”

Bella, with a bitter explanation, threw up her hands in dismay. “Oh, Papa, what does honor matter when I shall be miserable the rest of my life? It is not too late to stop this charade,” she finished on a plea.

Her father’s expression grew stern, and he put a hand on her elbow and drew her to the nave of the church. “No, Arabella. Do not make this more difficult than need be. After being in his presence for the last few days, I am assured that the duke will treat you with care and respect. He has accepted the necessity of this marriage with great dignity. You must try to emulate him on this,” he said firmly, and moved forward.

Bella held back and again thought about picking up her skirts and running out of the church as fast as she could. Taking another deep breath, she dismissed the idea almost instantly. She knew in futile acceptance that there was no real solution in fleeing.

So Bella started the long walk down the aisle with her father. A moment later she heard the strains of a faint but familiar hymn being played on the church organ.

Looking down the long aisle of the beautiful Gothic church, Bella felt her heart clench at the splendor of the morning light streaming through the numerous stained-glass windows that graced her childhood place of worship.

Of all the dreams she had had over the years about her wedding day, Bella had never dreamed of a day like this. As they continued moving slowly up the aisle, Bella saw her aunt and uncle, Tommy, and Triss standing in the front of the church to her left. She quickly averted her eyes, lest they meet Triss’s.

Keeping her gaze firmly fixed ahead, Bella saw that a profusion of ivy, white roses, and lilies covered the chancel rail. Their sweet fragrance reached her, and Bella wondered how her aunt had procured such a display this time of year, and why she had bothered.

Avoiding the inevitable as long as possible, Bella looked beyond the chancel rail to the vicar. He was staring fixedly down at the prayer book he held in his hands.

Closer they drew to the front, and Bella found herself
gripping her father’s arm, trying to hold on to the calm that had so blessedly enveloped her earlier.

To her right, on the groom’s side, a single female guest caught Bella’s attention. As she and Papa passed the pew, Bella flicked a surreptitious glance to the lady. Bella took in her fashionable ensemble of a bishop’s blue velvet pelisse over a paler bluish-pink gown. The lady’s bonnet was an exquisite confection of blue velvet and exotic feathers, tilted at a fetching angle above a classically beautiful face.

In an instant, Bella’s eyes met the lone guest’s, and she felt a mortifying blush heating her cheeks at what this unknown woman must be thinking.

Bella had steadfastly avoided looking in the duke’s direction, and now was a little surprised to see another man standing next to him at the altar. He was as tall as the duke, with coffee-colored hair and a handsome face with a short, jagged scar on the high plane of his cheek, which gave him the look of a pirate, despite his stern expression. Evidently this man was to act in the role of supporter to the duke, Bella concluded.

As the vibrating notes of the organ music faded to silence, Bella finally looked up at the duke as she and her father finally reached the steps of the altar. Still clutching her father’s arm, she smelled the poignant scent of the roses and lilies all around her as she bravely looked at the man who was about to become her husband.

Her frightened gaze took in the duke. She immediately noticed that no sling marred the perfection of his bottle-green colored coat, but he held his left arm stiffly to his side. His nearly black hair only accented the extreme pallor of his complexion.

Frowning slightly, Bella thought he looked worse than when she had seen him last.

His expression was unreadable, but his intense gaze met and held hers for a moment before he moved to stand next to her, facing the altar.

The vicar cleared his throat and the ceremony began. Everything became a blur. Bella felt, rather than saw, when her father gave her away and moved to the front pew with the rest of her family. She was aware of repeating words after the vicar, but paid no heed to what they were until
she heard the vicar say, “Repeat after me: I, Arabella Cornelia, take thee, Alexander Arthur Henry George, to be my wedded husband.”

Her gaze flew to the duke’s grave profile as she muddled his two middle names. A smile touched the corner of his mouth.

It was only when the duke placed a simple gold band on the third finger of her left hand that Bella feared her hard-won composure would fail her.

“With this ring I three wed, with my body I three worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” The duke said these ancient words in a deep, firm voice, and Bella felt her hand shake in his.

In a daze Bella heard the vicar announce them man and wife, and she gulped in disbelief. There was brief, awkward pause, during which Bella prayed the duke would not attempt to kiss her. After a moment the vicar suggested that they remove to an anteroom to sign the papers.

The duke nodded, and he, Bella, the man with the scar, and the elegantly dressed lady all moved silently to a side door that led to a tiny room.

“Let’s see, I believe everything is in order,” the vicar said nervously as he handed Bella a quill.

Pausing before she signed her name, Bella scanned the documents and saw that the duke would be one and thirty in August. It was a good thing to know one’s husband’s age, she thought with a suppressed urge to laugh.

After the duke took the quill from her and signed “Westlake” in the proper place, he straightened, turned to her, and said, “Arabella, I would like you to meet my very good friends, the Duke and Duchess of Severly.”

A little taken aback by the duke’s use of her given name, Bella said hastily, “How do you do?” and managed a curtsy in the small room.

On her way back up, it suddenly occurred to her that a duchess probably did not curtsy to another duchess.

“We are very pleased to meet you,” the Duke of Severly told her. Bella wondered at the sincere tone in his voice.

“We are indeed,” the Duchess of Severly added with a gentle smile.

“Thank you,” was all Bella was able to say.

She stood mutely next to Westlake as the duke and duchess added their signatures as witnesses to the papers. Dismally, Bella wondered if she would ever again have anything to say for herself.

After the formalities were completed, the five of them returned to the main part of the church, where Bella’s family stood waiting, each with a solemn expression.

Westlake paused and looked down at Bella. He then offered her his arm; Bella looked at it for a moment before placing her fingers lightly upon it.

They proceeded to walk toward the back of the church, with the Duke and Duchess of Severly following behind.

Moments later the two couples emerged into the bright morning sunlight, leaving the haunting scent of roses and lilies behind.

Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle David soon came out of the church with Mr. Tichley and Tommy. Bella noted that Triss was the last to exit, and that she hung well back from the rest of the solemn group.

“If you would care to come to Penninghurst Park, I have breakfast awaiting us,” Aunt Elizabeth hesitantly said to the group.

“We’d be delighted,” the Duchess of Severly spoke up after a quick glance to her husband.