Page 87 of In Service to the Duke

Soft music drifts through the windows as well as smatterings of conversations. To my knowledge, no one knows of what transpired between the duke and me. They are all here in happy celebration for a marriage which is anything but happy.

Heat fans my cheeks as I recall the images in the books the others gave me. If only they knew I was far more acquainted with the male anatomy than they first believed. Honestly, it helps my nerves a bit, knowing they are without a clue of the scandal threatening to besmirch the Dowding name.

The dowager duchess steps out, her eyes kind as she smiles at me. Patting my hand, she gives me a quick nod. “Do not fret, my dear. All will be well.”

If only I had her hope. Glancing over at her, I inspect her face in the sunlight. It seems as if her vigor is quite renewed. Perhaps this wedding is just what the physician ordered. Blackport will certainly be in much better spirits.

My mind blanks as the doors open, revealing a long walkway surrounded on either side by long benches. Not too many people sit in attendance, but those who are there look upon me with more love and kindness than I know what to do with. My heart swells, nearly bursting as I look upon Blackport’s friends and family, considering them my own for just one day.

Off to the side, however, I see my mother. At first, my heart leaps for joy in my chest, but then I notice her expression. While everyone else smiles at me, she scowls, her lips turned down into the perpetual frown I’m used to seeing at home. I had thought she would be happy for me, but it seems as if I’m still a disappointment.

Tears burn in my eyes, but I blink them away, focusing on Teresa, Kitty, and Cynthia. They seem to have enough joy to make up for several sour mothers. They nod at me, encouraging me as I walk down the aisle. At the end, Blackport gazes at me, his expression a mixture of lust and tenderness.

Could it be love?

Has he somehow found it within himself to forgive me? Hope renewed, I float down the aisle toward him, holding his face in my vision while shoving out all others. When he takes my hand in his, the heat which arcs between us nearly takes my breath away.

Trap or no trap, he’s who my soul desires.

The vows go by in a blur. In fact, the entire wedding is over far before I realize it. Once the ring goes on my finger and he leans in and kisses me, my heart sinks because it’s already over. My pussy clenches as he brushes his lips against mine in a chaste kiss which promises so much more.

Taking my hand in his, he leads me out of the church where cheers and well-wishes follow us. My heart pounds in my chest, so hard I can hear my pulse thudding in my ears. Next to me, Blackport looks resplendent, so much like Apollo as he leers down.

“Come, my bride. Let us get through this wedding breakfast so I can devour you for dessert.”

I blink up at him, shocked by his change in demeanor. What has happened since we last saw each other? Pausing, I raise my hand to rest it on his cheek. “Apollo?”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you, my delectable Daphne, but no. It is truly me.” Leaning down, he brushes his lips against my ear, speaking so softly only I can hear him. “I’ve just been shown the error of my ways and cannot wait to take you down into my dungeon and whip you as you cry out in ecstasy.”

Shuddering, I grab onto his sleeve, needing his strength to keep my knees from buckling. Happiness soars through my soul as we ride back to the house, followed by a parade of those wishing to dine with us. As we enter the house, I forget all about my mother.

There’s just no room for her inside my bubble when I’m so filled with joy and relief. Unfortunately, as we greet everyone, I’m forced to remember she is still there. As she leans forward to kiss my cheek, she grips my hand so tightly I almost cry out.

Sensing my distress, Blackport wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to his side. “My dear, shall we dine?”

“We shall.”

“Forgive me,” my mother calls out, reaching for my hand. “I wish to speak to my daughter, Your Grace. Or should I call you Son?” The gleam in her eyes makes my stomach churn.

“Your Grace is well enough, Madam.” Clicking his heels together, he gives her a bow before stepping off to the side.

Thankfully, he doesn’t completely leave. I don’t know what I would do if I were truly alone with this woman. A shiver races down my spine as she looks me up and down.

“Took you long enough,” she spits out, her voice a low hiss. “Did you not receive my letters? Or is it you chose to not answer me back, you ungrateful little brat?”

I reel back as if her words physically strike me. “I- I tried. But I didn’t know what to say.”

“Anything. You could have told me about your nuptials? I almost came and got you myself and threw you into the path of Portswell. I guess it all worked out in the end.” Again, she looks at my clothes.

“Such a horrid shade. Who decided to dress you in that?”

My heart cracks as I hang my head in shame.

“I did.”

Whirling around, I look up at the dowager duchess. She strides over to us, the thunderous crack of her cane punctuating her steps as it hits the ground. Schooling her face into a mask of civility, my mother sinks into a curtsy.

“And what a lovely dress it is. You have a good eye, Your Grace.”