Page 81 of In Service to the Duke

DAY OF THE WEDDING

I pace about the room, my heart sinking. Every time I look at myself in the mirror, it only gets worse. Outside the door, several voices call out, the musical laughing tones not instantly recognizable.

It must be Blackport’s guests. The realization makes the sorrow even worse. Throughout the last week, several people have come and gone, but none of them have been guests of mine. But I suppose that makes sense. Why would the duke wish to spend extra coin for someone he thinks is so conniving like me?

A soft knock pulls me back into the present. Hope flutters in my chest as the door opens. Perhaps I am wrong and there is someone here for me! But it’s dashed the moment it opens fully.

Their Graces Foxford and Birchleigh slide in, followed by another woman I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet. She smiles up at me, her blonde hair glinting just as brightly as the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Her Grace of Foxford slides forward and motions toward the new guest. “Allow me to introduce Miss Cynthia Campbell.”

With a soft smile, I dip into a curtsy. “Well met. I am Miss-”

“Gillet!” She cries out, grasping my hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. Come, we have much to talk about.” Her excitement is infectious, and despite the sadness looming over me like a pall, I grin as she pulls me over to the bed.

“Forgive me,” I hedge, not wishing to spoil the mood. “But my dress will be here shortly.”

“Oh, I know. That is why I’m here.” She darts a glance around as if to reveal a massive secret.

Unease drips through my veins at her actions. With all the potential for scandal surrounding this marriage, I want no part in anything else. I don’t think Blackport would forgive me.

Before I can make a gracious escape, Her Grace of Foxford sits on the other side, and Her Grace of Birchleigh stands in front. I’m effectively trapped on all fronts. At this point, the only way to flee is to throw myself backward on the bed and roll away. But that would draw even more attention to things.

“Before we begin,” Miss Campbell interjects, “we are all friends here. At least, we would like to be. Please, call me Cynthia.”

“And since I am soon to be your sister-in-law,” Her Grace of Birchleigh pipes up, “please, call me Kitty.”

On the other side, Her Grace of Foxford rolls her eyes. “You all stand on such formality,” she teases the others. To me, she gives a large grin. “You will, Of course, call me Teresa.”

“Has something happened?” I inquire, my gut clenching as worry floods my veins with ice.

The three sniff the air and hold up their hands, doing their best to reassure me. “No, no,” Cynthia cries out. “Nothing so dramatic as that. Merely, you are next to be wed, and we wanted to invite you into our little group.”

“Oh! You are married as well?” Cynthia’s gaze falls for a moment as sadness droops her shoulders. “Forgive me. That was impertinent. I-”

Kitty shakes her head as she rests a hand on Cynthia’s shoulders. “You meant no harm. All is well. Please, do not be so quick to worry.”

“You were well within your rights to inquire,” Cynthia joins in. “I am not one of the happily wed, but I have my cap set at a suitor. He just has to decide to want me.” Before I can ask any more questions, she waves her hand. “But that is not what this is all about.”

Looking over at the closed door, she pulls out a small book. By the look of it, it’s a sketching diary of some sort. “We wanted to give you your wedding present early, away from the prying eyes of others,” she clarifies.

Next to me, Teresa takes it from her before I can even touch it. “What’s contained in this book is all the information you will need to have a happy, enjoyable marriage. However, we can only give this to you if you solemnly swear to never reveal the contents to another who is not yet to be married. You must also never reveal who gave it to you.”

I look at all the faces, unsure of what to make of all this. Each one looks back at me in earnest. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly,” they say in unison.

“You see,” Kitty remarks, taking her turn with the book. “If anyone else were to know what was in these pages, it would reflect poorly on us.”

“And by poorly, she means our backsides,” Teresa teases, laughing as she tosses her head back.

“Does this mean your husbands discipline you as well?” I cry out before I can stop myself.

Horrified, I slap my hand over my lips, but it’s too late. All three look at me with wide eyes.

“Has my brother-in-law disciplined you?” An amused smile tugs at Kitty’s lips, but it does nothing to stop the pounding of my heart.

“I- I fear I spoke out of turn. What I mean is-”