She narrowed her eyes, her blue gaze appraising as he stood, pulling her to her feet. “Truly, you needn’t give me anything. I am well aware that ours is not a love match.”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
The corners of her lips turned up in a cute little smirk. “I’m… well… no. I do not believe that I am stubborn at all.”
Grinning, Giles released one of her hands and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the small velvet box he’d tucked away there earlier this morning. “I denied you a choice in your husband and a proper courtship. I will not deny you a proper proposal as well.” He lowered himself onto one knee and held the box toward her. “Lady Juliet Gale, I swear on this token of my affection that I will make you happy. Please accept my ring.”
Her eyes rounded when he popped the box open to reveal the family heirloom nestled within. “It’s lovely,” she said, her fingers twitching as though she fought the urge to reach for it. “But it is too much. A simple band would suffice.”
“Nonsense,” he said, “You are to be my duchess, and I want you to have my ring. A ring fit for your station.” He stood, then took the diamond encircled sapphire ring from the box. She smiled brightly as he slipped it on to her finger.
After staring at the ring for several heartbeats, she met his gaze. “I shall treasure it always. Thank you, Your Grace.”
“There will be no more of that.” He placed one finger under her chin, forcing her to hold his gaze. “You will call me Giles when we are in private. In public too, if doing so, pleases you.”
“As you wish, Giles.”
His name had never sounded so sweet.
Chapter 8
London, a sennight later…
December 19, 1811
The wedding preparations kept Juliet so busy that she and Giles had scarcely seen one another during the past sennight. He’d called on her each day, but the visits were brief as she always had something, or someone, in need of her time.
True to his word, he’d helped her with the many tasks involved when having a society wedding, and she was grateful for it. But it had not all been work. They had shared tea a couple of times and even enjoyed a walk in Thorne’s garden. Still, there was always someone nearby or accompanying them, so they had no time to develop a deeper relationship.
Juliet may not have chosen this match, but over the course of the last seven days, she’d come to appreciate Giles. The limited time they spent together showed her another side of him. The side that was not a drunken rogue. True, he had a rakish reputation, and she still feared his ability to remain faithful, but she also saw that he was a hardworking, caring, and considerate man.
The dread she’d felt the night of the Christmastide ball had slowly given way to hope for the future. A fact she was glad of now that her wedding day was upon her. Dare she admit that she was even pleased with the prospect of spending time alone with him?
As she readied to take her father’s arm, Juliet admitted as much to herself. The doom and gloom she had experienced initially had indeed given way to the kindling flame of hope.
Juliet took her father’s arm and gave him a smile. Mother and Father had arrived three days past and were over the moon that their daughter had caught a duke, as Mother put it. Juliet had expected Father to be furious and Mother to be beside herself over the scandal of it all. Apparently, when one became compromised by a duke, all was forgiven.
Father returned her smile. “Are you ready?”
Juliet nodded. “Yes.”
She allowed a cursory glance around the church as Father led her up the aisle. Boughs of evergreen, red and white flowers and holly transformed it into a merry space. It smelled of Christmas and nature and new beginnings. All of which Juliet wasn’t sure she was ready to embrace.
She moved her gaze to the aisle she now traversed. White organdy draped the pews with evergreen arrangements pinned to the ends, and white flower petals coated the aisle like freshly fallen snow.
Her gaze met Giles’s, and her heart did a little patter when he smiled at her. She had to admit that Giles had outdone himself where the church was concerned. He’d obviously put a great deal of thought into the decorations, and his consideration pleased her.
He cut a dashing figure standing at the altar waiting for her, too. From his combed back blond hair to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, he was something to marvel at. Her cheeks warmed as she glanced toward her attendants.
Olivia stood off to one side of the altar in a pale green gown. Her chestnut curls gathered at the back of her head with white roses pinned just behind her ear along with a jewel-encrusted comb. Her husband, the Duke of Thorne, stood off to the opposite side of the altar, a slight grin playing at his lips as he stared at his wife.
Guests filled the pews, which she found quite unusual given that Christmas was nearly upon them. But then, she supposed everyone wanted to witness the conclusion of their scandal. The curious gazes of the ton’s elite followed her as she moved toward her waiting groom.
Anxiety bloomed as she drew closer to the altar. There would be no begging off now. She turned her attention to the front pews, where their closest friends and family had been seated.
Thorne’s sisters Louisa, Catherine, and Elizabeth sat in the front row with Juliet’s mother. The four ladies beamed at her, and all four clutched silk handkerchiefs. The sight lightened Juliet’s heart, and she smiled back at them, grateful for their support and well wishes.
As she approached the altar, her gaze met Giles’s. He winked at her, and heat flooded her cheeks. Would he always be such a rogue? And what was wrong with her that she reacted in such a way?
Truth be told, she would not mind his behavior a bit as long as he directed all of his roguish tendencies toward her.
What a startling thought! And yet, there it was. She enjoyed his attention. The way he made her feel—warm all over, pulse thrumming, and belly fluttering—was quite exhilarating. She must be a wicked woman, for she desperately wanted to be alone with him.
Juliet wanted his kisses. She craved his touch and wanted to touch him, too. And soon she would be able to do that very thing. So long as he welcomed her touch. What if he did not? Could an inexperienced wallflower measure up to skilled paramours? Or would he find her lacking?
Father delivered Juliet to Giles, then kissed her cheek before he stepped back. Her pulse ticked up as she stared into Giles’s blue-green gaze. She beheld playfulness in their depths, but also something else—warmth, and tenderness, perhaps.
The clergyman glanced at the leather-bound copy of the Book of Common Prayer in his hand and cleared his throat.
Juliet worried her bottom lip as the minister began reading. So many what-ifs and questions swirled through her mind that she barely heard the clergyman’s words.
“Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God…”
Paying little mind to the words spoken, Juliet’s attention roamed elsewhere—to her soon to be husband. Giles must be the most handsome man in London, dressed in his crisp white shirt and cravat topped with a sapphire waistcoat and black cutaway tailcoat. His eyes sparkled, and a small smile played at his lips.