The duke

Edward snorted. "To marry us of course, he brought the license with him. And Mr. Brown

and the maid Helena will be witnesses."

She stood near the fire, it lit up her angelic face. Most of her blonde curls were pinned up,

but some hung down around her cheeks, framing her face. Her waist wasn't as narrow as some women, and he did not miss how her breasts swelled. She was beautiful, like an angel, and she did not deserve a hideous monster like him. He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself.

He stepped closer, so she could see more of him, but kept his face angled in a way that would keep his scar and eye from her view. She smelled heavenly, like flowers and sunshine on a Spring morning. She

barely came to the middle of his chest. He had an instant desire to hold her.

It had been so long since he felt the touch of a woman. Since before his accident, since

before he became too hideous for anyone to love.

Emily gasped. "Marry? Here? Now? Surely you were going to give it a week or so. A

wedding needs to be planned. I don't even have a dress!"

He scoffed. "Wedding? Heavens no. Get those foolish notions out of your head, woman.

A wedding isn't required for us to be married. We will have the papers done here, tonight we will consummate it, and with any luck from God, you'll become with child and we won't have to do it again."

Her blue eyes blinked in surprise at him and they filled with tears. "Why is this happening? I was supposed to marry the Duke of Bedford, now I'm here. You won't even let me see you and you want me to marry you before we even get to know each other?" She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

He swallowed hard and looked away from her. A part of him almost wanted to call the

whole thing off. But his family's fortune stood on the line. He needed an heir. This marriage needed to happen. It was only a few days she needed to bear him and then she would be free. If she took a lover at his other estate, he would not blame her. She deserved more than him.

He wished he could give her what she deserved, but he had a right to be a tad selfish. His lineage was on the line.

Her sobs filled the otherwise quiet room and, at a loss of what to do, he turned away from her and fixed his sight firmly outside the window where the flowers were just about to bloom, adding a little bit of color to the otherwise drab hall.

He had thought that the only thing that would make her burst into tears was the sight of his face, but it seemed the gods found it funny to gift him a woman that still believed in romance and who was more than likely in love with another man.

Who is the Duke of Bedford? His fist tightened in anger but he relaxed his tightened fingers and drew in a quiet breath.

There is no need to be up in arms about the issue. It is understandable that there be another man who had caught her fancy. No, she is quite beautiful and he wouldn't be a fool to think that there hadn't been a lot of men vying for her attention. His only concern should be that she shouldn't make the mistake of inviting any of them into her bed, at least not until he has his heir and a spare. He doesn't want to doubt the paternity of his children.

Clearing his throat, he carefully turned his gaze back to her, careful to keep his frame still shrouded in darkness.

"Mr. Brown will lead some maids to take up your bags to your room and he will introduce you to your personal maid. Please go with him and have a moment's rest. You'll be called when the priest has arrived."

Her sobs had quietened down but she was still sniffing, her face looking drawn and sad.

When Mr. Brown moved ahead of her and held open the door, she hesitated for several moments before reluctantly heading towards the open door. Just before the door closed, she looked back and summoned courage to ask the question that had been troubling her.

"What am I to wear then?" She asked in a small voice, sounding lost. Guilt pricked him but he didn't let it move him. This was all for her protection.

"Wear anything you like. You'll look lovely anyway."

She seemed taken aback by his compliment and stared at his shadowed frame for several long seconds before moving away from the threshold. Once the door closed behind her, he released a long pent-up breath and sank into his cushioned chair, running his hand through his hair. He felt the beginning of a blinding headache and would love nothing more than to take a finger -or two- of scotch, but he was about to be wed and needed all his wits around him.