Chapter 10 - Ten
A suffocating tension hung heavy in the air as the wedding party – a grim procession of Count Edmund, Countess Helene, a nervous Isabella, and a seething Suzy – arrived at the church. Two weeks had crawled by, each day a agonizing reminder of the impending marriage to a man Suzy had never met.
The grand cathedral, usually bustling with activity on a wedding day, felt eerily empty. The only people present were the priest, a couple of nervous-looking assistants, and Suzy’s "family," their faces etched with a mixture of annoyance and forced cheer.
Minutes turned into hours, the silence broken only by the nervous coughs of the priest and the rustle of Countess Helene’s silk gown. Every passing moment stoked the flames of anger burning within Suzy. This elaborate charade, this marriage to a stranger, and now, the utter disrespect of the Duke’s absence – it was all too much to bear.
Just as despair threatened to consume her, a lone carriage clattered to a halt outside the church. A sigh of relief rippled through the small gathering, except for Suzy. A spark of defiance ignited within her. This Duke couldn’t even be bothered to show up early for his own wedding?
The carriage door creaked open, and a tall, well-dressed man emerged. It wasn’t the Duke. It was a man Suzy didn’t recognize, his face a mask of polite indifference.
"Greetings," the man announced, his voice clipped and formal. "I am Davis, the Duke’s personal aide. I apologize for the Duke’s unavoidable absence. Urgent matters of state required his immediate attention."
Suzy’s jaw clenched. Urgent matters? Couldn’t he have sent a letter, a carrier pigeon, a raven or how do they send messages here? This blatant disregard for her, for the sanctity of marriage, was a slap in the face. The anger simmering within her threatened to boil over.
Davis cleared his throat, his gaze flitting between Suzy and the increasingly impatient priest. "However," he continued, producing a rolled-up parchment from his inner pocket, "the Duke has signed the marriage certificate as a token of his commitment."
He unfurled the document, revealing a flourish of elegant script and a bold signature at the bottom – the Duke of Carleton. Disgust churned in Suzy’s stomach. So, this was it. The Duke couldn’t even be bothered to show his face. Even in an arranged marriage, wasn’t there a basic level of decency expected?
The priest, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension, stepped forward, a hopeful smile plastered on his face. "Excellent," he beamed. "Then shall we proceed with the ceremony?"
He presented the document to Suzy, who scanned it with a frown. Her hands trembling with barely suppressed rage, took the pen offered by the priest and signed the certificate with a flourish. It was a formality, a meaningless gesture in a ceremony devoid of heart.