She's not a princess

Emily's eyes ran over the room and the still-bent figures of most of the men in the room. Mr. Brown and who she figured was the priest were overshadowed by the man who was now gazing intently at her, the one part of his face that she could see fixed on her and his expression pensive and --- dare she say, hungry.

His bow had been the shortest of them all and for what seemed like ages but was probably a handful of seconds, they stared at each other. She could imagine how she looked. She felt like a deer caught in headlights and was unsure of what exactly was going on.

She knew that her fear and uncertainty must have shown in her face as the now-straightened priest looked at her with an expression akin to pity on his weathered face.

"Miss Dewhurst," her betrothed broke the silence, "meet the priest. Father Benjamin will wed us."

She swallowed reflexively and turned to the priest to curtsy but he instead clasped her hands in his.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, sir."

He smiled, the lines at the sides of his mouth deepening. "It's alright, Miss Dewhurst. I understand that women tend to take a longer time with their appearance."

Her cheeks flamed and she knew she probably looked like a cherub. The curse of being extremely pale skinned and blushing at the drop of a hat.

"Shall we begin?" Edward drawled beside her and she turned wide eyes to him, her stomach dropping in dread.

"Very well," father Benjamin chimes in, his voice taking on fake excitement.

Arranging the folds of her dress, Emily moved to stand opposite her betrothed and strained her eyes to see him fully. However, he was determined to keep her in the dark -literally- so she regained her posture and waited, trying her hardest not to think of her depressing circumstances.

She was finding it difficult to come to terms with the fact that she was getting married in a dark, almost empty study with none of her family with her.

All her life, she had believed she would marry in her family's cathedral, surrounded by her family and with a groom who would shower praises on her.

She had thought wrong.

Her groom had given no indication that he had any intention to comment on her looks.

The only people there were her and her betrothed, the priest, Mr. Brown, Helena who she assumed was the head housekeeper, and the maid who had been assigned to help her dress up but who was no more knowledgeable about fashion than a normal country girl.

Emily had arranged her hair herself with the knowledge she had gleaned from years of watching skilled maids and although she did a good job, she knew the maid assigned to her who she figured out was named Sunny, was overwhelmed by the task of getting her mistress's hair ready. Emily couldn't wait for her personal maid, Anna, who was coming the next morning with more of her luggages.

Since her groom was determined to keep himself hidden from her, she kept her gaze fixed on his intricately knotted cravat, noting that he had taken the time to get dressed up for their nuptials although she could see little of what he had on.

There was a few minutes where everyone assumed their position; the priest standing in front of them, Mr. Brown and the women behind them, the ceremony began.

Emily had never felt as lonely as she had at the moment. She felt utterly alone and would have done anything to have someone she knew in the room. Of course, it wasn't like His Grace had any family in the room, but his servants counted.

She conjured up memories of her family; her father who had been nothing but sweet and indulgent until this catastrophic marriage he had arranged, her sister Margaret, who was fifteen years of age and was still in the school, and her myriad of dogs and horses who she spent all her free moment loving and petting. Her family was always filled with laughter and drama, her sister had a flair for dramatics and her father was only too happy to indulge his daughters.

No matter how she felt about what he had done, she missed him severely and missed her sister's quips and side talks.

"Miss Dewhurst?"

She was startled back to reality by the priest's gentle cajoling. She looked up at him with wide eyes, afraid she had said something wrong.

The priest's eyes were warm and filled with understanding and Emily grabbed onto that comforting look with all her heart. She would take whatever scrap of sympathy she could get at this time.

"She is tired from her travel," His Grace cut in and her eyes flew to him. "Please repeat the question."

The priest's accusing eyes shot to the man as well, questions written in the deep set of his eyes. It was clear that he was tempted to ask the Duke why he hadn't thought it was to give her time to rest. He held himself back and repeated himself.

"Do you take His Grace, Edward the third Duke of Snowshill to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Emily felt a knot in her throat and for a moment, she had a terrifying thought. What if she said no?

She just as quickly shook the thought off. No, she could never do that. Her father had placed a lot of hope in her.

With great effort, she swallowed the knot and whispered the words that would legally bind her together with this man.

"Yes, I do."

Everything moved in slow motion after that. His Grace slid on a cold metal unto her fourth finger and she lowered her head to look at it.

She was unable to see much pass the shean of tears in her eyes but she could tell that the jewel attached to the ring was ostentaciously big, almost gaudy if not for the elegant setting of the rocks.

When the ceremony was done, His Grace -her husband- waited to talk to the priest and the maids led her back upstairs. The knowledge that she now had a husband filled her stomach with a cold dread and goosebumps littered all over her skin despite the pleasantly warm weather and heavy dress she wore.

She ascended the stairs quietly and noticed from her side vision that the Helena, the head housekeeper, stayed back but Sunny continued walking with her.

The door to her room was opened to reveal two other maids laying out night clothes for her and once they caught sight of her, they dropped into low curtsies.

"Would you like to take your dinner with His Grace or would you prefer to eat in your chambers, Miss Dewhurst?" Sunny asked, her short black hair bobbing as she spoke animatedly.

"I'll eat with His Grace."

She would love nothing more than to hide out in her room and avoid the blasted man, but it would be a sign of bad luck to not share their first meal as a married couple.

A short rap on the door had Sunny going to see who it was. After a hurried whisper, she slid the door close and walked back into the room, her cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

"Uhm.." she began unsurely, "His Grace sends word that sadly, he won't be able to share dinner tonight as he has a pressing matter to attend to."

Emily was at a loss for words. What matter would be more pressing than his new wife?

Sunny opens and closes her mouth a few times before she finally gathers the courage to continue.

"He says you should have dinner and get dressed to wait for him."

Anger was the first emotion that she felt. It slid in, hot and heavy, causing her head to feel lightened and her vision to blur.

Oh, he sends his servants to do his dirty work for him, doesn't he? He should have told her to her face.

Closely following the anger is confusion. Wait for him? What did he---

Oh

Heavens! It was her wedding night.

She then looked at the clothes the maids had been fiddling with and all the blood drained out of her head at the sight of the sheer nightie that would make her Aunty Agatha swoon and faint. It was a useless piece of fabric that would expose more than it covered and she knew she was better off going without it.

He wanted her to wear that and wait for him.

He would expect conjugal rights.

Oh heavens! She felt lightheaded and when she turned to look at the maids, they were all staring at her with bated breaths.

"I need a minute," she managed to choke out and they were barely out the door when she crumbled into a heap on the floor, her sobs ricocheting off the walls of the room.