To Love, Honor, and Obey... (Fated for Love) (14 page)

The horse nickered in response and Patience could feel the terror of what she was about to do creep up again. She pushed it back in her mind and grabbed Thistles main. With her free hand, she pulled up her nightgown and flung her leg over her back. Thistle sidestepped anxiously but Patience held on and adjusted herself at the new and uncomfortable sensation. Riding astride bare back was something Obedience would do—not Patience, but desperate times heralded desperate measures. Using her knees, she urged Thistle toward the drive. She was surprised the horse was so attentive to her directions. It was much colder in motion, her legs bare up to her knees. The nightgown billowed out behind her, allowing cold air to stream down her back. Within minutes, she was shivering and battling her own will to not turn back.

*~~*

The carriage pulled up to the manor and Chance was the first to get out, turning to help Obedience down. The night was unusually cold, and he urged her to go inside and wait while he helped his father into his chair. Obedience headed inside, her stomach aflutter with nerves and her eyes bright with tears held in check. They hadn't said much on the way home. The silence had been comforting in an odd sort of way. She wasn't ready to talk. She didn't want to have to relive the moments of the dining room just yet and they must have understood that. There would be plenty of time for talking now that she lived there. It was still so strange. She looked around the foyer with new eyes, hoping to feel a sense of rightness that still eluded her. This was her home now, Chance and the duke her only family. She clasped her shaking hands together behind her back and waited.

Chance and
a footman assisted the duke inside, supporting him under each arm. Another footman followed with the chair. “We're going to take him upstairs. I'll meet you in the drawing room once he is settled.”

Obedience nodded. “
Goodnight, sir.”

They slowed as they reached her and the duke smiled at her fondly. “It is a good night. You're home at last. Sweet dreams.”

Obedience returned his smile as they passed but it faded as she went toward the drawing room. She wished this place felt like home, and usually, it did feel like a second home. But she was still rattled from tonight, still nursing the open wound inside her heart from her mother’s total rejection. She wished she could push these feelings out and just be happy to be here, where she was wanted and welcomed, but her mind was still in a state of disbelief.

She sat on the sofa and stared at her hands. They were so cold, and even though she rubbed them together, she couldn't feel her fingers. The couch depressed beside her and a large warm hand covered hers. She didn't need to look up to know who it was
. She could just feel his presence and knew it was Chance.

“Teddy.”

“Porcupette,” he answered. His voice held a mixture of amusement and sobriety. “Your hands are cold.” He took them in his and chaffed them.

Obedience tried to smile but she couldn't. She was exhausted, all her defenses defeated, all her walls crumbled around her. “What am I supposed to do here?”

Chance stopped rubbing her hands but continued to hold them. “Just take some time to settle in. Tomorrow we can get things worked out. You've had a rough night, but the worst is over.”

“Do you think I will ever see them again?”

“Do you want to?”

She looked up at him, fresh tears fighting to overcome her lashes. “They are still my family. I cannot just erase them, but I wish so much had been different.”

Chance sighed. He hated the pain in her eyes, the brittleness of her voice. “Perhaps in the future there will be a time to mend things between you, but for tonight... you need to focus on you, on being happy. We are so happy to have you here. I only wish to see the same joy in you.”

This time Obedience could smile. He sounded so earnest. She felt a swell of emotion in her chest, but instead of cold and
bleak, it was warm and fuzzy. “I know I will be. How could I not?”

“I'll make sure you are. I can be very persuasive.” He leaned in, his forehead touching hers.

“So you've said.” Obedience leaned into him, his warmth and strength chased the cold from her skin.

Chance pulled back. He wanted to hold her close, but not pressure her. She had been through enough tonight. “Mrs. Moore should have your room ready now. I can show you where it is, if you like.”

Obedience nodded. “Sleep would be wonderful, if it doesn't elude me.”

“If it does, Mrs. Moore makes a wonderful toddy. It will put you right out.” He stood and held out his hand.

Obedience took it and let him pull her to her feet and lead her from the room. He tucked her hand in his elbow, a less intimate gesture, but then again, they were already courting scandal with her presence in his home. She had little care for propriety at the moment, but it was best to keep things as innocent as possible until they were wed. A blessing and a curse. She wanted his comfort and touch, but she didn't have the energy to think of him and her family. She was drained of everything.

They reached her room
, and she had been so lost in her thoughts that she had no idea how they got there. Chance paused before her door and turned to her.

“I'm one floor up and two doors down on the left. My
father’s suite is at the end, if you remember.”

Obedience nodded. She was so tired it took effort to lift her
eyelids, let alone her head, to look up at him. He tipped her chin up and she slowly focused on him.

“This is where you belong. Don't ever doubt that.” He brushed his lips across hers in a gentle caress and then let her go. He opened the door and ushered her in. A maid was waiting with a bath prepared. He didn't cross the threshold into her room.

“I'll see you in the morning. Get all the rest you need.” With that, he closed the door.

Obedience blinked and turned to the maid. In a blur of
activity, she found herself bathed and dressed and tucked into a large and extremely comfortable bed, though in her state, Obedience was sure a bale of hay would have felt comfortable to sleep on. The maid whispered a soft goodnight and blew out the lamp before leaving. Obedience was swept into darkness, giving into the weight of her eyelids and falling into a deep sleep.

*~~*

Patience rode until her hands and bottom were numb. Her legs ached from gripping the horse, and she couldn't hold onto Thistles mane anymore. Luck was on her side, she made it to the bridge. She slid from Thistles back, shivering and weak, stumbling as the cut in her foot crippled her gait. The bridge was old, but in good repair. The wood felt smooth under her good foot and the railing soft from the caress of many hands. During the day, this bridge was busy with farmers and tradesmen moving between towns, but at night, it was desolate and haunting. The trees on either side were dark and looming, almost menacing, except on this night she had nothing to fear but herself. She hobbled to the center, Thistle following her and breathing heavy. Looking over the rail, the water was a black bottomless abyss, but she could hear it. It rushed against the pilings and moved swiftly under the cover of night. She climbed up onto the rail until she could sit with her feet dangling over the edge.

She expected to feel more at this moment, to feel frightened of her own death, the snubbing of her life. But she felt nothing, she had nothing. Thistle nickered behind her shoulder. It almost sounded like a warning. Patience would have laughed at the absurdity
if she had the energy. She looked back at her mare. “You can go home now, Thistle.”

The mare stared back at her blankly. Patience looked back at the river. In the
distance, she could see the moonlight glinting off the water. It looked peaceful and beautiful. It was soothing to look at. She kept her vision focused there as she scooted forward until her toes touched the very edge of the planks. She looked down into the blackness and was hit with a sudden wave of panic. A dry burning sob erupted from her and her ears filled with the roar of the river. She let go of the railing and she felt suspended over the black abyss. She felt the rush of cold air and then a blast of frigid water as she was submerged. She was tumbling and rolling, and then pain infused her body like lightning.

Obedience woke as the sun filled her room. She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the bright light and the curtains billowing softly with a fragrant breeze. She stretched, remembering everything that happened last night, but the weight was lessened somehow. She looked around her room with pleasure. The walls were painted white and hung with
floral landscapes. The room was light and airy, the furniture primarily rosewood pieces, not overly ornate or heavy. There was not one overriding color, but instead a complement of many colors inspired by the floral paintings. Before the large window, there was a plush rosewood double-sided window seat with plump pillows. The room was larger than her old room, boasting a dressing room, water closet, large Cheval mirror, vanity, a writing desk, and a Tub Wing chair next to a white marble fireplace.

She slipped out from under the coverlet, her bare feet touching down on a thick Axminster carpet of light blue with crisscrossing floral garlands
. She made use of the water closet, a decadence she only experienced when visiting. The mantel clock chimed the tenth hour, surprising Obedience. Never before had she slept until such a late hour. Finishing her toilette and dressing herself in one of her more manageable gowns, she went down stairs searching for Chance. She went to the drawing room, the library, and then his study, slowing when she heard multiple male voices, including Chances pleasant baritone. She could hear the dukes gruff mumbling and a voice she couldn't recognize. She hesitated as she approached the door and knocked softly on the jam. The door was open, so she peeked her head around the corner timidly. “I beg your pardon, I was looking for Lord Willowton.”

“I'm here, Miss Wickenham, do join us.”

Obedience entered the room. The duke sat behind his desk looking years older than he did last night. Chance stood from a chair before his father’s desk, as did a very formidable looking man wearing robes and a wig.

“I present His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury.” He waved Obedience forward. Obedience curtsied, presentably she hoped, and stepped forward.

“A delight to meet you, Miss Wickenham. You've been the topic of our conversation this morning.” The Archbishop smiled politely.

“Oh?” Obedience walked forward nervously. Chance offered her his chair and moved to stand next to her as she sat. The Archbishop took his seat and continued to smile at her.

“This is a rather odd situation, I admit, but I am happy to aid you in any way I can.”

“Given the circumstances, it would be best to proceed immediately
,” the duke added.

Obedience turned to him, her gaze roaming over his face and noting the circles under his eyes and the odd pallor of his skin. “Proceed with what, exactly.”

The men chuckled. Chance cleared his throat and placed his hand on her shoulder. “The Archbishop brought the special license himself, Obedience. We can be married as early as this afternoon. He has even agreed to honor us by performing the ceremony.”

Obedience looked back to the Archbishop with wide eyes. “The special license? Oh yes—I mean, of course, thank you.”

The Archbishop laughed and slapped his knee. “I hope you're not getting cold feet, Miss Wickenham. You are here of your own volition, are you not? I wouldn't put it past The Bear Duke to kidnap a bride for his son.”

The gentlemen laughed much to Obedience's chagrin. She made an attempt at a convincing laugh but wasn't sure she succeeded. However, the duke
’s laugh quickly turned to a gurgling cough, and that pulled everyone's attention away from her. Chance offered his handkerchief, but the duke turned it away and used his own. All the amusement was quickly sucked from the room. Obedience could see worry and concern in the eyes of both Chance and the Archbishop. It was growing more and more apparent that time was the enemy. She swallowed down a lump of emotion in her throat as the duke took a sip of water and wiped his brow.

“My apologies,”
the duke begged of them. “What were we discussing?”

Although Obedience felt like her heart was trying to escape her chest, she knew what she must do. Chance caught her eye. His look said so many things that she didn't quite understand. She didn't want to admit that she was scared, that things were moving so fast she couldn't grasp her own feelings, but one thing hadn't changed. She was doing this for the duke, to repay him for all the kindness and affection he gave her over the years. He was asking for forever, which he deserved, but when standing at the edge of forever,
it’s normal to have some trepidation. There was also her mother and sister. They would either come to terms with her marriage or continue to hate her, but a small part of her wished they could be here with her.

She felt alone, which was ridiculous because she had two great men—two knights in
shining armor, championing her. But how was she supposed to explain to them that although she was grateful and willing to do exactly what they asked, she was terrified. She took a deep breath.

“We were discussing the wedding, sir
,” she said moderately calmly. “I believe Lord Willowton suggested this afternoon?” Obedience looked up at Chance. He was looking down at her with gratitude.