Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves

Chapter Eight

The wedding was a small affair held at on the Morgan Estate the very next week. Everything between Miranda and Benedict’s conversation and the morning of the ceremony happened so fast, Miranda wasn’t certain she would be able to remember any details of how the event came together.

She woke that day feeling sick to her stomach. As she lay in bed staring up at the ceiling of her room, she briefly wondered if she should just refuse to get up. What could anyone possibly do if she just refused to participate in the day? Would they drag Benedict to her bedside and force them to marry anyway? With a sigh, she sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed to the floor.

If I am uncooperative, it will only make the day last longer. I would rather avoid such extended torment.

There was a knock on the door, and when Miranda beckoned whoever it was to come in, her lady’s maid poked her head inside the room.

“My Lady? I’ve been sent to help you get ready for the day.”

Miranda nodded. “All right, yes. Come in.”

As if sensing Miranda’s reluctance, the maid eased into the room very carefully and nearly tiptoed to the vanity.

“My Lady, if you would come sit, I’ll do your hair.”

Miranda pushed to her feet and trudged to the low-backed chair. She had bathed the night before, so her hair was soft and fell around her shoulders in shining, golden waves. The maid reached toward the vanity and picked up a hairbrush. She began brushing Miranda’s hair as she prepared to style it for the day.

As the maid worked, Miranda stared at her reflection in the vanity’s mirror and became lost in her thoughts and anxieties. She wondered if she was really doing the right thing, or if this was going to be an even worse mistake than that kiss in the garden. She considered how her father’s mood toward her had brightened considerably once Benedict had asked for her hand, and how relieved he and Aunt Pam had seemed that the mess that she’d made was getting cleaned up properly.

“My Lady, how do you like it?”

Miranda blinked, the maid’s voice pulling her back to the present time. She gazed in the mirror, astonished to see that her hair was arranged artfully on top of her head with little flowers carefully placed throughout. How much time had passed? She had been so lost in her thoughts, she had no idea.

“Oh…um…it’s lovely, thank you very much,” she quickly said when she saw the maid watching her reflection expectantly.

The woman grinned, clearly pleased by the praise, and nodded. “Then shall we get you dressed?”

Miranda’s hands clenched and unclenched in her lap.

“Yes…I…I suppose we shall.”

She stood and walked to the middle of the room to allow the maid to remove her nightgown. The woman then collected Miranda’s various underthings, including her chemise and corset, and helped her dress layer by layer. When everything was properly in place and cinched, the maid then fetched Miranda’s wedding gown.

Having had no time to have a new gown made, not that she’d wanted to, Miranda had chosen a dress that had once belonged to her mother to wear for the occasion. It was a lovely light green in color with a full skirt and sleeves that ended in intricate lace at her forearms. The design wasn’t in the latest fashion, but Miranda didn’t mind. She thought it was lovely, and wanted something of her mother with her when she walked down the aisle.

Once the maid helped her to finish dressing, the woman stood back and gazed at Miranda with an odd expression.

“My Lady, you are so beautiful,” the maid gushed.

Miranda managed a smile. “Thank you. I can only hope His Grace approves as well.”

“I’ve no doubt he will, My Lady,” the maid assured her. “He’s going to think himself the luckiest man alive when he sees you.”

I very much doubt that.

Of course, Miranda didn’t speak her thought out loud. It was no secret why she and Benedict were getting married so quickly, but as far as she could tell, no one outside of their immediate family and closest friends knew just how complicated her past with him was. And then, of course, only the two of them knew that the marriage wouldn’t be a true one.

No one could know that, ever. She hadn’t even told Rowena. There was another knock on her door, and Miranda bid the maid see who it was.

“My Lord,” the maid said with a curtsy when she opened the door to reveal Miranda’s father.

The Earl stepped into the room and when his eyes found Miranda, they widened.

“Oh, my goodness,” he murmured. “You look so lovely, My Dear. Is that…is that your mother’s dress?”

Miranda felt her cheeks warm and a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“It is, Papa. Do you like it?”

He nodded, crossing the room to her and taking her hands in his. “I do. Your mother would be so happy to see you right now.” His eyes suddenly shimmered as emotion overtook him. He made a clear effort to try and keep himself contained.

Miranda squeezed her father’s hands. Whenever her mother’s memory was invoked, it would be clear that her father had never fully recovered from losing her. Miranda didn’t remember her, of course, as she’d died very shortly after she’d been born.

Her father raised her hands so he could kiss her fingers.

“I’m sorry that this is happening under these circumstances,” he told her softly. “As much as I wanted you to find someone who could take care of you, this isn’t how I wished for that to come about.”

“I know, Papa,” Miranda replied. “I don’t think any of us would have wished for this outcome. It’s not what His Grace or I truly want, but we know that our actions have given us little choice in the matter.”

“All will be well,” her father assured her. “I have a feeling that this will lead to a very happy life for both of you.”

Miranda wasn’t sure if he was saying that just to make her feel better, or because he truly believed that. Whatever the case, she appreciated his words and attempt to lighten the tension that hung in the air.

“I hope you’re right, Papa,” she said, though she had her doubts that he would be proven correct.

He wiped at his cheek when one lone tear managed to break free, and then he gave her a bright smile.

“Well, shall we?” He offered her his arm.

Miranda lost her breath as a pressure settled on her chest. This was happening, whether she liked it or not. There was no turning back now. Panic began to thrum within her and she wondered how she would be able to get through this day without completely breaking down or making it obvious that she was terrified.

However, she didn’t let her father know any of what she was feeling in that moment. She had already brought him so much grief and worry, she didn’t think she could possibly cause him any more concern.

Forcing a smile, she slipped her hand around his arm and said, “Yes, let’s. We don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”