The sky was pale and bright, as if the day refused to take sides. When Rosalyn looked at her reflection, she barely recognized herself. Not because of the dress or the soft curls framing her face, but because she carried something new inside her. Fear, yes, a trembling uncertainty, but also something else.
Strength. A quiet strength that said her life was no longer slipping out of her hands. Her mother hovered nearby, tying a ribbon that did not need tying. "Do you want more time?" she whispered, though both knew there was no more time left to take.
Rosalyn shook her head. "If I wait, I will lose my courage." Her mother exhaled shakily. "You barely know him."
"I know enough," Rosalyn said. "He will not hurt me." "He could freeze you," her mother said. "A cold man can wound a heart just as deeply."
Rosalyn gave a weak smile. "I think his heart is locked away, not lost. I do not expect to find it." Her mother touched her cheek.
"But you deserve love." Rosalyn's throat tightened. "Love can come in many forms. Today I choose safety."
"Tomorrow I will learn the rest." A knock sounded at the door. Her father peeked in. His expression was conflicted.
Pride, fear, guilt, hope, all tangled together. He offered his arm. "It is time," he said. Rosalyn nodded and followed him out.
The ceremony took place in the Duke's private chapel, a quiet stone building surrounded by tall hedges. Only a few witnesses were invited: her parents, two servants, and the Duke's older cousin, Lord Wilton, a gentle-faced man who seemed far friendlier than his well-known relative. Rosalyn's breath caught when she saw the Duke standing near the altar. He wore dark formal attire, sharp and elegant.
His posture was perfect, his expression unreadable, but something in his eyes shifted when he looked at her. Not softness. Not affection. But purpose.
He stepped forward and extended his hand. She placed hers in his and felt the surprising warmth of his skin. The ceremony was brief. The vicar spoke the words with calm reverence.
When it was time for vows, the Duke's voice was steady, deep, and low. "I will give you honesty and respect," he said. "I will protect your freedom. I will not bind you in ways you do not choose."
"This I swear." Rosalyn felt something stir in her chest. When her turn came, she spoke without shaking. "I will stand beside you with truth and loyalty."
"I will not demand what you cannot give. This I swear." Then they exchanged rings. When the vicar announced them husband and wife, Rosalyn felt the world tilt slightly, as if the ground had shifted under her feet.
The Duke lifted her gloved hand and pressed a light kiss upon it. It was not romantic nor expected, but it was careful, measured, almost gentle. The chapel doors opened, and warm sunlight washed over them. Rosalyn blinked at the brightness.
She was married. A carriage waited outside to take them to Blackthornne Manor, the Duke's estate. Her parents hugged her tightly before she left. Her mother wept softly.