Married To The Riveted Duke

“Congratulations, Becky! You’re officially a duchess.”

“Formality!” The Duke reminded sternly, without making eye contact with his wife.

“Oh, sorry! I almost forgot, Duchess Rebecca!” Crystal, her best friend, said cheerily and curtsied.

Rebecca smiled faintly and looked at her husband. She saw that his facial expression wasn’t welcoming—cold and nonchalant—and heaved sadly. She had her eyes on her parents, whom seemed pleased with the marriage.

When the Duke had sought for her hand in marriage, she simply obliged without hesitation. She had already got pregnant out of wedlock and couldn’t bear to bring more shame to her family’s reputation. Her belly was big as she was in the first month in her third trimester.

“Your grace!” His horseman said with a bow,

“We have to return home before night falls. It would be unsafe for the Duchess to travel at night especially in the condition she is in.”

“Mm!” The Duke hummed and flashed a glance at Rebecca. His eyes were fixed on her belly, irritated at the sight. He knew perfectly well she was pregnant before he proposed to her.

Rebecca felt nervous by the cold stare he gave her and wished she could disappear but sighed when she knew her nightmares had just begun. Her mother walked towards her with teary eyes and hugged her.

“I’m going to miss you, my dear.” Hilda said ruefully.

“I will too.” Rebecca said wryly, holding onto her tight. She knew it would take a long time before she would feel such embrace again.

“Come on, Hilda! You’re delaying the couple. They have to leave. You’re well aware that the Duke comes from a far place.” Edward said calmly, gently breaking the hug.

Hilda sniffed and replied in a nod. She had her arm round his side. Rebecca looked at Crystal, who did her best not to break down in front of her best friend. She smiled and waved goodbye at her friend. Crystal reciprocated.

The Duke led the way to the carriage and held it open for his wife. Rebecca stood at the door and stalled for a minute. She turned her head round and looked at her family. She faked her happiness in front of them. She turned to her husband, who didn’t look pleased with his decision.

Rebecca entered the carriage and sat down. The duke came in minutes later and the horseman closed the door. She peeked through the window and had her eyes on the sun, which was slowly at the horizon. The horses neighed and the carriage began to move. The Duke sat opposite her.

Rebecca’s eyes met his and he looked away. She couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about her.

“Why does he keep staring? Does he despise me that much?” She thought and bit her lips nervously.

Rebecca fidgeted her fingers and didn’t bother to talk to him. The Duke lived in the next village, which was miles away from Rebecca’s hometown—Strathpeffer. The carriage pulled over in front of a house. One of the Duke’s stewards, who had stood outside the house, opened the door. He helped Rebecca to get out and held it open for his master.

“Your grace!” The steward acknowledged him with a bow.

The Duke ignored him and walked to the house. Rebecca looked at the building and was astonished. The house was built in a classic architecture—Victorian house. The roofs were hipped; it had turrets windows; the porches had woodwork on them; the asymmetrical shapes made the house exquisite both in its exterior and interior and had bay windows.

Rebecca remembered where she was and entered the house. As she entered the living room, she saw the maids standing in a queue and all curtsied as she got closer. She was stunned by the respect, hence, she wasn’t used to the formal greetings.

“Your grace!” A man beside the mantle said and bowed at her.

“Thomas!” A steel voice called him from the end of the room.

All eyes—Rebecca and Thomas’—were on him.

“Duke Williams,” Thomas said plainly,

“It’s good to see you. For a moment there, I thought you wouldn’t arrive before the crickets began to chirp.”

“Well, you guessed wrong. I see you’re already acquainted with the duchess.” Williams said sternly, keeping a straight face.

“I haven’t done much for an introduction.” Thomas said frankly.

Williams looked at his wife plainly and let out a sigh.

“Her name is Rebecca; as you already know, she is the Duchess. So do your best not to annoy her like you do often to me.” Williams instructed firmly.

“I will my best not to, Your grace.” Thomas answered submissively.

“Hm!” Williams hummed,

“Have the midwife attend to her.”

“There is certainly no need for a midwife. I’m—.” Rebecca said cowardly.

“You’re not allowed to speak unless you’re asked to do so.” Williams cut her off, in a firm voice.

Rebecca hung her head, embarrassed by her action.

“I’m sorry, Your grace.” She apologized.

“Thomas?”

“I will go and call the midwife.” Thomas said and quickly left them.

Williams watched him as he left. He looked at the maids. Neither of them dared to look up; all had their gaze on the floor.

“You!” He called one of them sternly.

The maid by the right, cowardly raised her head and quickly avoided his fiery eyes.

“Show the Duchess to her room.” He ordered.

The maid replied in a nod, still didn’t make eye contact with Williams. Williams glanced at everyone in the room, except his wife and left the room.