Page 28 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

“I cannot run; I have to do this.”

Julia’s eyes filled with tears as well. She kissed Poppy’s hands.

“I am proud of you, Poppy. I know there is no way I can talk you out of this. Please know that I will always be here for you, and now I will always be here for my nieces too.”

“And so will I,” Georgia added.

The ladies embraced as they tried not to cry. Outside, the church bell rang; it was a sound that indicated the start of a new life beyond those church doors.

Poppy took a deep breath in while Julia and Georgia let go of her and stepped into line as the church doors opened. The hem of her gown moved quietly around her ankles as the Duke of Sterling stood at the altar. He was strikingly handsome in a cream wedding coat, white ruffled shirt, gold-trimmed waistcoat and pantaloons tucked into black leather boots. He looked taller, and she admired his strength. She wondered what he saw when he turned his head toward her because his expression was unreadable.

It was difficult to tell that his vision was impaired, but Poppy knew that he was not fully blind because his eyes followed her perfectly as she walked down the aisle. She found it hard to tear her own gaze away from his pale gray stare, and her breath quickened as she approached him.

“Dearly beloved…” the clergyman lowered his eyes to his book and began reading the banns when she finally reached Hector’s side.

The small company of witnesses remained still behind them. Poppy could feel their attention resting on her back, but she kept her gaze on Hector because looking anywhere else would suggest she required escape.

He inclined his head by the smallest degree and whispered so only she could hear. “Miss Norish.”

“Your Grace,” her own voice quivered as she took in his scent and the way he seemed to see her through the veil.

“If you want to run, you should do it now,” he whispered.

Poppy looked up at him daringly.

He was not teasing, and there was no gallantry in the offer or last romantic test of her resolve. He meant it exactly as he said it.

Is it a warning?

The cane shifted once against the floor, so softly no one behind them would have noticed, but Poppy noticed that Jonathan’s attention sharpened from the edge of the scene, though he did not move.

Hector continued, “Once the vows are spoken, you will belong to me forever.”

Poppy gulped, and she wanted to reject any sentence that made a woman sound like property transferred between names and seals. Yet there was also the truth of the moment, stripped of lace and politeness. This marriage would alter her. It would fasten his name to hers. It would place her under his roof and within his authority, and it would give her the girls while taking from her what freedom remained.

Forever.

The thoughts settled heavily, and Poppy drew a quiet breath.

Why is everyone questioning my decisions?

“I know exactly whom I am marrying…and why.”

His head angled slightly.

“Do you truly know who you are marrying?” his voice was dangerously low, and it made her feel uneasy in a pleasant way.

“Yes.” She kept her voice as low as his. “I have no illusions that you will ever be a warm husband.”

Understanding moved across his face.

“No,” he said. “I imagine not.”

She should have stopped there. A prudent woman might have. But prudence had brought her all the way to this room, to this man, to this edge of irrevocability, and she found that she wanted one truth spoken aloud before she gave him her vows.

“But I am not marrying you for you,” she said.

His gray eyes remained fixed on her.